Lethal Protector

by Kaylea Cross

  Finally cresting it, she sailed down the other side, relieved when the ground was right there to meet her skis. She risked a peek over her shoulder. Braxton appeared at the top of the rise, then barreled toward her down the incline at full speed. There were no more rifle shots.

  She kept going and glanced around, worried. “Is he…down?” she managed between gasps, her legs and arms burning, heart slamming like a jackhammer against her ribs.

  “No. I lost sight of him. Don’t stop,” he said tersely.

  She wasn’t planning on it. But now that the initial flood of adrenaline was beginning to ebb, her legs were growing weak and shaky. She didn’t say anything, didn’t slow, skiing along the trail as fast as she could and praying they were putting distance between them and the shooter.

  The trail wound left then right, then down and to the left again. After a while when there were still no more shots, Braxton came up alongside her. “He was on foot. We should be able to lose him, but we can’t slow down yet,” he said over the wind.

  Tala nodded, put her head down and kept pace with him as best she could. Digging deep for her stamina and ignoring the burn in her limbs and lungs, her body pushed to its limits.

  She didn’t know how far they went, didn’t know how much time had passed since they’d left the trees, but it seemed like ages. The heavy snow made it hard because it obscured her vision and made her skis drag more. But the damn wind was killing her, like a cold knife slicing at her face and cutting through her suit.

  Her face and hands were half-frozen in spite of how hard she was skiing, and so was her left foot. She was shivering so badly her jaw was trembling. The sub layer she’d put on under her suit might as well have been tissue paper for all the warmth it was trapping against her body.

  She took it for as long as she could, then shook her head, knowing going any father without another layer was asking for trouble. “Jacket,” she panted, hating to stop and risk the shooter possibly gaining on them—if he was even still following—but continuing like this was equally dangerous.

  Braxton immediately stopped, looked behind them, then gave her his back. “In the top of my ruck.”

  She shrugged out of her rifle harness and fished her down jacket out with numb hands. He helped her put it on, then tugged off his gloves with his teeth and did up her zipper, watching her face. “We need to keep moving and find a way to get back down to the snowmobiles,” he told her as he put his gloves back on. He had to be half-frozen too.

  She nodded, trying to stop shivering, and shrugged back into her rifle harness. They had to make it back down and take the snowmobiles back to the truck before it got dark. “I’m g-good.”

  They started out again, the storm raging around them, showing no sign of easing. Braxton turned right at a slight fork in the trail and led her down a steep incline. At one point he pulled out his phone as he skied, but he must not have had any service because he shoved it back in his pocket and kept going.

  Tala had no idea where they were, but Braxton seemed to have a direction in mind so she followed without question, unable to see what lay to their right beyond the edge of the trail. The canyon? Hopefully with the lodge at the bottom?

  They skied up and down. Left and right. Over and over, until he finally paused for a breather at the top of a small ridge. He bent over a little between his planted poles and sucked in a few breaths.

  She stopped beside him and did the same, too tired to bother looking behind them. They must have lost the shooter by now, or they would have known otherwise.

  “Pretty sure we’ve lost him,” he panted, then pulled in another big breath and straightened a bit. “No way he could see us through this shit anyway.”

  She nodded, in full agreement. She’d skied in some pretty gnarly conditions in her life, but never a full-on blizzard out in the backcountry. Without Braxton, she would be totally lost right now. Or dead.

  “The snowmobiles are about three miles from here,” he told her. “We just need to find a route down there.” He eyed her. “Can you keep going?”

  “Yeah.” She didn’t have the oxygen for anything more than that.

  “I’ll get us down as fast as I can.”

  Another nod, and then they were off again. They found a side trail another three klicks or so up the trail. But it wasn’t pretty.

  Tala stood at the edge of it, peering down the steep grade through the curtain of snow, everything in her telling her this was a really bad idea. The wind was sharper here rushing up at them, tugging at her jacket and toque. Her lips were numb, her fingers and toes practically bloodless from the cold, and her legs and arms were like lead.

  Braxton glanced back and forth, all around them before settling his gaze on her. “I don’t see any other way down.”

  Yeah, she was getting that.

  “I’ll go first and stop ten meters down, then call and wait for you. Go sideways, and slow. It’s narrow and I can’t see where we’re going yet. I know you’re tired. I know your balance is an issue. But you can’t afford to slip or stumble here. Understand?”

  “Got it.” He wasn’t being harsh, he was being real, warning her of the danger. If she did, she’d knock them both off the trail, and maybe over a cliff somewhere below. But she didn’t plan on screwing up and causing either of them to fall to their death after escaping a deranged shooter in the middle of this goddamn blizzard.

  She thought of Rylee. Of her daughter waiting for her right now. And Tate.

  Tala straightened and mentally geared up for this next challenge. She could do this. She would do this. She’d survived giving birth to an eight-and-a-half-pound baby without any drugs, then having her foot and lower leg blown off in a warzone. She wasn’t fucking dying out here on this mountain.

  Before she even realized what he was doing, Braxton leaned in and kissed her, one hand sliding up to cup the back of her head.

  She was still processing the shock of it when he lifted his head and gave her the semblance of a smile. “I’m so goddamn proud of you, sweetheart.”

  Sweetheart. Her insides fluttered and her heart turned over.

  She opened her mouth to say something but he’d already turned away and started down the trail. She swallowed the urge to blurt out be careful and crept to the edge, watching anxiously.

  After a few tense seconds, she lost sight of him. She waited, heart thudding.

  Please let him be okay. Please let us get down safely.

  “Okay, start down,” he called. “Real slow. It’s narrow. Stay tight to the left.”

  Pushing out a breath, she thought of Rylee again and began her wary descent. She angled her body to come down the trail with her skis sideways across it, her left foot on the bottom to provide her with a stronger, more stable base. With slow, careful placement, she edged her way down the incline.

  Braxton finally came into view, and her heart rate slowed a little. He nodded his approval. “Good. Now stop there and wait.”

  She did, waiting for him to move down the trail and call out to her again. Every second, she was prepared for him to say they’d reached a dead end and would have to climb back to the top to try and find another route down.

  Thankfully, that didn’t happen. He descended a little at a time, stopped, and waited for her to catch up while the wind roared over them, driving snow into their faces.

  It seemed to take hours to reach the bottom. By the time they made it to flat ground, her left leg was on fire from the strain of bearing her weight on the tortuous descent, and her stump was burning.

  “Not far now,” he told her, and turned to his left. “This way.”

  She didn’t know how the hell he knew where they were, but doggedly pushed her exhausted body to follow him. The burning in her left leg faded, replaced by a heavy numbness that told her she was going to be damn sore over the next few days.

  “Should be just up on the left, another few hundred meters,” he said over his shoulder.

  She slowed when he did, could have crie
d from relief when the familiar outline of the rock outcropping came into view up ahead on the left. But her relief was short-lived.

  Braxton swore softly. Her spine snapped taut and she dropped her poles, automatically shrugging out of her harness to grip her rifle. But as she slowed beside him, she scented the problem on the wind.

  Smoke and scorched metal.

  A few seconds and ten more meters later, her heart sank as the destruction became visible through the snowflakes. Just as fast, another tendril of fear snaked through her.

  The shooter had been here.

  Beneath the rock overhang the snow was blackened, smoke rising from the scorched remains of the one remaining snowmobile, and the pile of smoldering ashes that had been their extra emergency supplies.

  Tala edged under the overhang to shield herself from the worst of the wind and snow, shoving out a hard breath. The shooter must have known a shortcut down the mountain and found their earlier tracks, leading him here somehow. It was the only explanation. And now he had a vehicle to get around on.

  Her skin crawled at the thought of him still close, watching for them. She clutched her rifle, scanning uselessly through the storm in case he was out there within range, waiting to take another shot at them. If he did, this time she’d be ready.

  Braxton had his phone out. He skied a short distance away, then turned in various directions, watching his phone. “No signal at all,” he muttered, and came back to her.

  Tala took hers out just in case, but, of course, she had no signal either so she shoved it away in her pocket. The shooter was likely long gone. He wouldn’t be able to withstand this storm any better than they could.

  “What do we do now?” The ride up here on the snowmobiles had taken them the better part of twenty to thirty minutes. On skis, it would be more than double that, even going downhill most of the way, and the little daylight that penetrated the storm was already fading. Within another hour, it would be full dark out here. They’d be at serious risk of hypothermia, or worse.

  Catching her off guard, Braxton wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into a tight hug, his face pressed to the side of her head. She lowered her rifle and leaned into him, grateful for his warmth and strength, her cheek on his chest.

  “We’re gonna have to find shelter for the night,” he murmured, confirming what she’d already known inside. “But not here.”

  No, not here. The shooter might try to come back to look for them.

  Braxton eased his grip enough to lift his head and caught her chin in his gloved fingers, bringing her eyes to his. “You trust me?”

  There wasn’t even the slightest hesitation. “Completely.” With her life.

  His eyes warmed behind the goggles as the corner of his mouth kicked up. “Let’s get out of here.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Visibility was still the shits, and it was getting dark fast. With the temperature dropping, they needed to find shelter and get out of the elements. Fast.

  Braxton leaned forward against the relentless wind, its force making the icy snowflakes sting his cheeks. The hollow he’d found them in the side of the mountain wasn’t deep enough to be called a cave, but at least it was large enough that they would both be able to lie down inside the rock enclosure. If they could seal the opening with branches and whatever greenery they could find, it should keep out the worst of the storm.

  In theory.

  At any rate, it would have to do. They were out of time, and he was worried about Tala.

  The shooter was no longer their biggest threat. The storm was. Tala was smaller than him, with less muscle mass, and she had fewer layers on. The sooner he got her out of the elements and warmed up, the sooner he could breathe easier.

  She stood a few meters from him, hunched over with her back to the wind, her arms wrapped around herself for warmth. He shrugged out of his ruck, quickly took out the emergency Mylar blanket and wrapped it around her.

  “I’m gonna start piling up some branches,” he told her over the wind. It had to be gusting around a hundred klicks an hour.

  She nodded in understanding and waited while he took out the folding axe, skied over to some fallen branches and began cutting up some large evergreen boughs that had fallen onto the trail. He brought an armful back and began standing them up on end. Then he shoved them into the snow and wedged them against the mouth of the opening to form a partial windscreen across the rock opening of their makeshift shelter.

  “I’ll d-do that,” she told him, shaking visibly as she took the next branch from him. “You go get more.”

  He hated that she was so cold and tired, wished he could do more to warm her up and take care of her, but she needed to keep moving and if they worked together they’d get this done much faster. Cutting the large boughs up worked up a sweat in no time.

  Armful by armful he brought her the branches while the snow flew in their faces. She’d stacked the boughs close together, weaving the greenery together in a kind of blanket to help keep out the wind.

  He gathered several more loads, then helped finish the first layer and started on the second. By the time they had the second one halfway done, he took her by the upper arm and pulled her toward the little opening they’d left in the branches.

  “Go inside,” he told her. “I’ll be done here soon.”

  “No, I c-can—”

  “Tala, go,” he commanded, just wanting her out of the wind and cold. They both had survival training but his was more advanced, and survival in austere conditions was part of his expertise. He wanted her somewhere sheltered so she could start to warm up a little.

  Thankfully she relented, took off her skis and crawled through the opening. He pushed her skis and poles in after her, along with his ruck, then set to work finishing the second layer. When he was done, there were still gaps in the branches.

  He skied farther down the trail to find more boughs, cut them up and carried them back to plug all the holes with fir and pine greenery. Soon enough the snow would pile up on the outside of the wall they’d erected, forming an insulating blanket against the elements. They’d have to maintain a hole for ventilation to stave off carbon monoxide poisoning.

  After plugging the last gap as best he could, he crawled through the hole and found Tala inside with her headlamp on, the emergency blanket wrapped around her. He set his skis and poles on top of hers right next to the curtain of branches they’d erected, then set about closing the hole, leaving the top portion open for an airway.

  It was still freezing inside, but at least the wind and snow were blocked by the makeshift wall. He crawled over to Tala, who was shivering as she sat on the bedroll he’d attached to his ruck. Without a word, she opened the silvery blanket and held it out to make room for him.

  After digging in his ruck for all the extra clothing he’d brought, he gave her thick socks, a sweatshirt and a pair of sweatpants, along with some chemical packet hand warmers. He took off her jacket and quickly helped her get the extra layers on, then put her jacket back on, zipped it up and tucked the hand warmers into her gloves.

  “That should help,” he murmured, tugging her toque down a little more beneath the Mylar blanket. The other one he’d brought had been burned with the snowmobile.

  “Wh-what about y-you?” she asked, her teeth chattering.

  “I’ve got some more.” He stripped off his jacket, put on the extra layer, then pulled the jacket back on.

  As soon as it was zipped up and his gloves were on with the hand warmers inside, he sat next to Tala. Hauling her into his lap, he bundled the emergency blanket around them both, his arms tight around her.

  She groaned in relief and tucked in tight to him, her face pressed into his neck, gloves clenched against his chest. She was shivering hard, her body jerking with them.

  Braxton laid them down on their sides and pulled his ruck into place to use as a pillow, tucking her thigh between his and holding her as close as possible. They were in for a long, cold, uncomfortable night,
but at least now they were out of the elements and could share body heat.

  “C-can’t believe how f-fast the storm blew up,” she said.

  He pressed his cheek to hers, the shared body heat warming the front of him while the unyielding cold seeped along his back. “I know.” The original forecast had called for the blizzard to end just before dawn. Maybe since it had started early, it would end early too. “Better?”

  “Much.” She wriggled in closer, flattening her body to him.

  Braxton released a long breath. He’d wanted more time with her. Had never imagined a shooter coming after them. And even though this situation sucked, he was thankful he’d been with her today. Grateful that she was still alive, and that he could take care of her now.

  He hadn’t been able to help her after she’d been wounded. Seeing her lying in that hospital bed, he’d felt totally helpless. He’d even wondered if coming to see her was a mistake, if seeing him might upset her more.

  He could still picture the look on her face when he’d stepped around the curtain. Surprise. Relief. Gratitude.

  And then she’d reached for him, and there was nothing on earth that could have kept him away from her.

  Duty had dragged him away from her far too soon when all he wanted was to stay, to be there for her. He still felt guilty about that, even though he hadn’t had a choice. He’d done all he could for her that day and ever since, but it hadn’t seemed enough. Still didn’t. And all he’d been able to leave behind of himself was that damn bear she loved so much.

  “What are you thinking about?” she whispered. Her shivering was subsiding.

  “You.” About how he was more certain of his feelings for her today than ever. Tala was it for him and always would be.

  “What about me?”