by Kaylea Cross
Chapter Eleven
They hadn’t skied far up the untouched trail when Braxton slowed. Tala did the same, following his gaze to a fork just ahead. “Left or right?” he asked.
Tiny snowflakes had begun to fall from the thick gray clouds overhead, swirling in the light wind. “Right.”
“Right it is,” Braxton said and moved aside, waiting for her to join him. “There’s an area about two klicks from here that Tate said would make a good shooting range. Wanna stop there and put some rounds downrange?”
She had no doubt he’d memorized a map of the area before coming up here. And she’d come up here to simulate a race, so a good sprint before she shot was perfect. “Love to.” She tossed him a saucy look. “See if you can keep up.”
He flashed a grin. “How about you give me a decent head start instead, so I can go on ahead and set up some targets for when you get there?”
Good idea. “Or that.”
She stayed put while he skied off, giving him seven minutes lead-time before beginning her sprint up the trail. She started with freestyle method for the first hundred meters, then switching to classical, just as she would do in a race. Exhilaration filled her as her muscles warmed and her blood got pumping.
The snow was deeper here, a lot more difficult to ski through compared to the well-groomed biathlon trails she was used to. Her skis sank into it, making every stride more difficult. But she loved the thrill of it, the challenge of pushing herself as the cold air whipped over her face.
Most of all, she loved knowing Braxton was waiting up ahead for her.
She was panting, her heart racing by the time she spotted the clearing he’d mentioned up ahead. He was standing in the middle of it, the snowflakes falling faster now. She slowed as she approached him, practicing her easing-in technique. Shifting her focus to her breathing, resting her muscles to get her heart rate down before she reached the makeshift shooting range.
“I put the target on a tree trunk to your two-o’clock,” he called out. “Not quite fifty meters, but close enough.”
As a sniper, he was an expert at judging distance, so she wouldn’t be surprised if he had the exact distance calculated in his head. Not wasting air to reply, she took the thin rolled-up yoga mat from the small of her back that she’d brought to serve as a shooting mat, and spread it out next to him.
Pulling in another slow breath, her heart rate dropping, she took off her backpack sling, hooked the webbing sling to the firing cuff on her upper arm and flipped the cap up on the end of the muzzle before loading a five-round clip into the chamber. The sprint had been shorter than in a real race, but the deeper snow made it feel longer. And shooting outside was always far more challenging than at an indoor range with perfect conditions and no wind to worry about.
“Light wind blowing east to west. Adjust left slightly,” he told her.
Nodding, she located the paper target he’d fixed to a tree trunk in the distance, then got onto her belly. There were all kinds of tips, tricks and questions she wanted to pick his brain about later. But first, time to see if their last lesson had stuck in her head.
She assumed her firing position and brought the rifle tight to her shoulder, making the adjustments he’d helped her with the other day.
A snowflake landed on her eyelashes. She blinked it away, staring through the sight at the target. The stock was ice cold against her cheek as she aimed at the first circle, timed her shot between heartbeats, then squeezed the trigger.
“Miss. High and to the left, five centimeters,” Braxton said a few meters beside her, watching the target through a pair of binos.
Not surprising, since she’d hadn’t zeroed the rifle yet. She quickly adjusted her sight, took aim again, implementing everything he’d taught her before, and fired.
“Hit, right of center. Good job.”
His praise warmed her all the way to her bones. She immediately focused on the second target. Tucked her chin in a bit more and exhaled. Picked a spot between heartbeats. Fired.
“Hit, left of center.”
Then the third.
“Hit, center.”
God, I love this. She fired at the last two targets in succession with only a second in between.
“Both hits, dead center.” He lowered the binos and met her gaze as she looked over at him, a huge grin on her face. “Look at you,” he said in admiration, giving her a proud smile that made her still fast-beating heart flip-flop.
“It’s my new secret weapon coach.” She pushed up onto her knees to rise, already slinging her rifle onto her back.
Braxton reached down to grasp her arm and help her to her feet. He didn’t let go.
Tala stilled at the contact, her gaze shooting to his. Her insides fluttered at the yearning in his eyes. Then she laughed softly.
“What?” he asked her.
“I’m sweaty and out of breath, and have no makeup on.”
“Mmm,” he agreed. “And you’re still the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.”
Her eyes widened at the compliment, but then he was bending his head and…
She sucked in a breath and grabbed hold of his sturdy shoulders as his lips came down on hers. Slow at first. Careful.
She didn’t want slow or careful with him.
Tala reached her arms up to wind them around his neck and leaned into him, his deep groan sending a shiver through her as his lips parted, his tongue delving between hers. She flattened her body to his, barely aware of the cold snowflakes drifting down to kiss her upturned face.
Braxton made the whole world fall away. There was only him and this moment, his strong arms around her, his mouth on hers as his big body sheltered her from the cold wind.
He held her rock steady on her skis while his tongue caressed hers. Gliding. Teasing before he nipped at her lower lip, sucked at it tenderly and raised his head.
Tala blinked up at him, half-drugged with arousal, the pulse between her thighs bordering on painful and her nipples tight beads against the front of her sports bra.
“I’ve never wanted anyone the way I want you,” he murmured, his eyes blazing with unmistakable heat.
He was telling her this now? Here, when there was nothing she could do about it? “Same.”
He cupped the side of her neck with one hand, his thumb grazing across her lips. “You deserve better than me, but I can’t keep my distance. Christ, Tal, I just don’t wanna hurt you,” he finished, anguish bleeding into his expression.
She shivered as a strong gust of wind tore over her. Her heart was still pounding, from elation now instead of exertion, and her body was cooling fast now that she’d stopped skiing. “So then, don’t hurt me. And you are good enough for me. You’re exactly right for me.”
Braxton groaned and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her in for a tight hug. “Promise me I won’t lose you,” he whispered, crushing her to him. “No matter what happens. I couldn’t take that.”
The note of vulnerability in his words twisted her heart even as it swelled with hope. Did this mean he was giving them a shot? A real one? But how could he if he was going to re-up at the end of his current contract? She wasn’t willing to put herself through a relationship like that.
She also didn’t want to ruin the moment by pushing any harder right now.
“You won’t lose me, Brax,” she promised, hugging him tight. They’d started out as friends, and that meant something to her. No matter what happened between them, she couldn’t see herself cutting him out of her life entirely. “Unless you cheated on me,” she added. “Then you’d lose me real fast.”
He relaxed his grip and lifted his head to stare down at her, equal parts heat and disbelief in his eyes, snowflakes gathering on his dark whiskers. “I’ve never cheated on anyone, and I would never do that to you.”
She believed him. “Good,” she murmured, giving him a little smile.
His lips curved, then he cupped the back of her head with one hand and kissed her again, making her lose track
of time and space until he sighed and eased back. “We came up here to give you more practice. Up for another sprint and shoot? This time standing.”
She’d rather keep kissing him, but sensed he needed breathing room while he grappled with whatever internal conflict made him think he wasn’t good enough for her. “Sure.”
He pinned another target for her on the same tree, then they set out on an easy ski up the trail and stopped three klicks from the clearing. On his mark she took off, pretending she was in a race.
Braxton was right behind her, keeping pace without any difficulty. In the clearing, he stopped and looked through the binos while she set up in standing position and adjusted everything according to his previous instruction.
As usual, she wasn’t nearly as good as when she shot prone. She lowered the rifle with a sigh. “Meh.”
“Not bad,” he said, tucking the binos away. “Try again now that your heart rate’s lower.”
She took a fresh five-round clip from the stock, loaded it, and took aim. This time she hit four out of five. “I’ll take it,” she said, giving him a smile.
“Wanna keep going?”
“No, I’ve had enough for now. Let’s head back, I want to learn some finer points of compensating for windage and air temp while we ski.”
He grinned. “Sure.”
He stayed beside her as they made their way back down the trail, the big ruck strapped to his back while she carried her biathlon rifle in its backpack harness. He was in the middle of answering a question about a technical point when he suddenly stopped talking and looked to the left.
Tala followed his gaze into the trees. Through them, she saw a single set of footprints emerge from the edge of the trees up ahead onto their trail. Braxton immediately stopped and moved in front of her, his posture tense, gaze alert.
The tracks made her uneasy. She immediately thought of the fugitive Tate had mentioned earlier. They were truly in the middle of nowhere here, and a storm was about to move in.
She glanced at Braxton to get a read on his reaction, making note of their position so she could tell Tate about the tracks later on in case he wanted to look into it. “Should we…turn around and find another trail?”
He didn’t answer for a moment, taking out his binos to check the trail in front of them. “The tracks lead back into the trees a ways up ahead. We’ll go straight back to the truck.”
He started forward, moving in front of her now in a protective move that wasn’t lost on her. While she appreciated the sentiment, she wasn’t exactly helpless, and she was the one with the rifle when he only had a pistol on him.
She followed him anyway, watching the prints. Sure enough, they veered off into the trees and disappeared, and when she scanned the trail up ahead of them, she didn’t see any further traces that anyone had been there. “We need to call—”
“I’m calling Tate now,” he said, already pulling his phone from his jacket. He explained what they’d seen, and their approximate location, plus the direction the tracks were headed in.
He answered a few questions, then paused. “Roger. We’re heading straight for the truck right now anyway. See you in a while.” He ended the call and kept skiing. Thankfully there were no more tracks ahead of them.
“What did he say?” she asked.
“He’s calling the station to alert the guys on shift right now, but they won’t be able to send out anyone to check the tracks tonight. Forecast has changed. Storm’s moving in faster than anticipated. He says we need to get home.”
After seeing those tracks, she was eager to get off the mountain. The last thing she wanted was to put either of them at risk by staying out here with a potential fugitive and a blizzard bearing down on them. “Let’s get moving then.”
“Yeah.” He tucked the phone away as he skied, then glanced over and gave her a slow, sexy half-smile that sent a fresh wave of arousal through her. “You up for coming back to Mason and Avery’s place with me after dinner?”
Her insides heated, images of them tangled together naked in his sheets filling her brain. “You might be able to persuade me.”
He quirked a dark eyebrow, a hot gleam in his eyes. “Race you to the bottom.” He shot away.
She’d already been motivated to get out of there. Now she couldn’t wait to get into the truck with him. Tala sprinted after him, her whole body pulsing with anticipation of what lay ahead tonight once they were alone.
****
Jason stilled when the first shots ripped through the air, his heart rate skyrocketing. He whipped around to face the shack door, his muscles tight as steel cables.
More shots. Spaced out. Distant, but not distant enough.
He was definitely no longer alone on the mountain. Hunters?
Could be the cops.
His pulse kicked hard. A couple hours earlier he’d managed to find a spot with a weak signal for his hand-cranked radio to check the weather and the local news. Right after the forecast about the blizzard, the local radio station had talked about him.
The cops had put out an alert about him, asking anyone who might have seen him or have information on his whereabouts to report it. Now every local yokel within thirty miles knew who he was, and that he was out here. He was trapped here for now. With the storm moving in he couldn’t risk leaving yet.
But he needed to find out who was out there, and what they were shooting at.
Jaw tightening, he grabbed his heavy jacket from the peg on the wall, shrugged it on and yanked on his knit cap and gloves. The custom rifle was still in the corner near the wood-burning stove, along with his binoculars. He grabbed them both, loaded a round, and stuffed more ammo in his jacket pocket before stalking to the door.
Opening it a few inches, he paused to peer outside and make sure the coast was clear. The storm was already here. Hours earlier than expected. Overhead the sky was dark and leaden, thin flakes mixed with fat, fluffy ones as they fell in a steady curtain.
He stepped out and shut the door behind him, his breath catching at the sudden bite of cold, the wind snatching his breath away in a silver mist. His snowshoes sank only a few inches into the snow as he hugged the edge of the trees before crossing the clearing. They would still leave tracks for anyone trying to follow him, but with the snow falling faster by the minute, it wouldn’t be long until they were completely covered again.
For now, he had an urgent scouting mission to accomplish.
His gloved hands tightened around the rifle as he made his way through the trees toward the trail he would take to begin his hunt. Heading in the direction the rifle shots had come from, he shoved back the fear making the hair on the back of his neck tingle.
If whoever was out here had come to find him, they would die.
Chapter Twelve
Braxton was preoccupied by the deteriorating weather conditions and the possibility of a fugitive being nearby as he followed Tala back down the trail, but he hadn’t seen any more tracks, and the sight of her in that body-hugging Lycra suit was distracting. The light blue fabric clung to every inch of her, and made him think about slowly peeling it off her in the basement suite at Mason and Avery’s place.
Tearing his gaze from her firm, shapely ass and thighs, he glanced up at the sky through the goggles he’d put on, the snowflakes gathering on his face. Fat and fluffy now, and so thick their visibility had dropped to about fifty meters. The wind was picking up too, gusting hard and swirling the snow around.
He adjusted his goggles and stayed right behind Tala in the grooves cut by her skis. The storm had moved in a lot faster than anticipated, and they still had at least a thirty-minute ski to get back to where they’d left the snowmobiles. From there, it was easily another twenty minutes or so back to the building site. Maybe more, if the storm kept getting worse.
Tala stayed several strides ahead of him, her technique smooth and steady, showing no signs of tiring yet. While her outfit was sexy as hell on her, it also made him worried about her core temp in these con
ditions.
She would be plenty warm while they were skiing, but once they got to the snowmobiles he was going to wrap her in the extra layer he’d brought in his ruck for the ride back to the truck. In these conditions, even the base layer she had underneath her suit for added warmth wasn’t enough.
They rounded a bend in the trail, and ahead of them their previous tracks from the trek up were already disappearing beneath the heavy snowfall. Sheets of it dropped from drooping, snow-bound branches they passed on either side of the trail. A sharp gust of wind cut across the face of the mountain, sucking the breath from his lungs.
Then a faint, distinctive rumbling sound reached him.
Shit. “Tala, stop,” he ordered, racing to catch her.
She did, turning to look back at him questioningly as he got close. “What’s wr—” She froze as the sound intensified, her head whipping back around to face forward.
Braxton cut in front of her and stopped, angling his body and holding out an arm in front of her in case he suddenly needed to throw her out of the line of fire. The rumbling was louder now, getting closer, but he couldn’t tell where it was coming from.
About forty meters ahead, a wall of white appeared in their line of vision, kicking up snow and other debris as the small avalanche exploded over the trail and over the edge of the cliff to plunge down the mountainside on their right.
He pushed her off the trail, backed her up against the closest thick tree trunk he could find and froze, waiting. Listening. The rumbling faded away in the distance, and the cloud of snow up the trail from the debris field began to ebb.
He waited another minute, his chest pressed to her back, then set his hand on her shoulder and squeezed. “Stay here. I’m gonna take a look.”
She didn’t argue or question him, but he could feel her eyes on him as he skied away, watching anxiously as he followed the trail down until he could get a good look at the damage. As soon as the extent of the avalanche became clear, he stopped.