Black Ice

by Becca Fitzpatrick

  "I'm scared," I whispered. I'd felt tipsy and loose ever since drinking the moonshine, but even it couldn't mask the worry sloshing like ice water inside me. A grizzly bear. If the fire burned out, if it came after us, if we had to run--we would be fatally outmatched.

  Jude gathered me into his arms. He reclined so that I sat with my back to his chest, his long legs drawn up on either side of mine. Cradling me against his body, he wrapped his arms protectively around me.

  "Better?" he murmured into my ear.

  I let my head fall back on his shoulder. "I'm glad you're here, Jude. I'm glad we have each other."

  His breath ruffled my hair. "Me too."

  "This may sound strange, but I almost feel . . . more capable with you around. I really do feel like we're in this together, if that makes sense."

  "Perfect sense."

  If Calvin were here with me instead, I wouldn't be able to say the same. I had always let Calvin take care of me. When we used to go out, even if we took my car, Calvin drove. Calvin paid for dinner. If it was raining and I'd forgotten my coat, I pestered him until he gave me his. I'd wanted him to adore me, protect me, and bend over backward for me. When he didn't measure up, I acted helpless to force him to pay attention to me. With Jude, I trusted my own ability to take care of myself. I felt a sense of security, not desperation. I believed our strengths complemented each other.

  Jude swept my hair off my shoulder and kissed the nape of my neck. "Tell me what you're thinking."

  I stretched my neck, inviting him to kiss me. I shut my eyes, feeling my skin tingle under the soft pressure of his mouth. "How do you know I'm not seducing you so you'll help me to Idlewilde?" I baited him. Somewhere outside myself, I could hear how flirty I sounded. But the moonshine had relaxed me and I didn't care.

  He nuzzled my neck. "When you bluff, your left eyebrow twitches. It hasn't twitched all night. Besides, I already told you I'm going to get you there safely. No need for games now."

  I pulled back indignantly. "My left eyebrow does not twitch."

  Jude studied me with an idle smile, as if calculating the wisdom of saying more. "When you're amused, your mouth takes on a mischievous curl," he went on, as if proving his point. "When you're angry, you press your lips together and three tiny lines jump out between your eyebrows."

  I rolled onto my knees and planted my hands squarely on my hips. "Anything else?" I asked hotly.

  He thumbed his nose, struggling not to grin. "When you kiss, you make a purring noise deep in your throat. It's so faint, I have to be touching you to hear it."

  Now I turned bright red.

  "We should kiss again and see what other observations I make," he suggested.

  "Fat chance, after you insulted me!"

  "You want me to think you're insulted, but your left eyebrow is twitching--you're bluffing." At my exasperated look, he shrugged and spread his hands as if to say, I can't help myself.

  I realized Jude must have been studying me a lot if he'd come to these conclusions. My mind traveled back to the times I'd caught him watching me. I'd assumed he'd kept his eye on me to make sure I didn't run. But now I wondered if he'd secretly been piecing me together like a puzzle, out of his own deep interest. The idea made my breath come faster.

  "Fine," I said at last. "Say I do let you kiss me again." I knelt on all fours in front of him, smiling temptingly. My mind was definitely still present, but the alcohol had given me a pleasurable buzz. I felt warm and alive, and a teensy bit reckless. "First, I want to set some ground rules."

  "You have my rapt attention."

  "When was the first time you knew you wanted to kiss me?"

  "That's your ground rule?"

  "I'd like to gather some information before I lay down the law."

  "My, my, but you're demanding. This, and that, and who knows what else."

  My smile widened. "Answer it."

  He leaned back and scratched his head, exaggeratedly struggling to recollect the exact moment.

  "Take your time," I said sweetly. "The longer you take, the longer until we kiss."

  "The first time I wanted to kiss you," he said thoughtfully, rubbing his chin, "was at the 7-Eleven, right after I discovered you told Calvin that you were with me now. The resentment on his face was memorable, but your expression was priceless. I've never seen someone fight so hard to hide their giddiness. You had both of us in your hand. I wanted to kiss you and, as I recall, I did."

  I frowned, trying to remember. "That kiss? It was about as puritanical as a hymnbook."

  "Didn't want to seem forward."

  I doubted that. The more I got to know Jude, the more his veneer of modesty peeled away. I was pretty sure there were remnants of the arrogant, swaggering kid he'd claimed to have left behind in his teen years.

  "I'm not the type to start up with perfect strangers," I told him. "I still don't know what brought you to Wyoming or how you got wrapped up with Shaun."

  Jude studied me quietly a moment. "There are things I want to tell you but can't. I know it's not a good explanation, but it's the best I can do right now. I care about you, Britt. I want what's best for you. I'm sorry you got dragged into this mess, and I will do everything I can to get you home safely."

  Neither of us brought up what would happen after that. Jude was a wanted man. An accomplice at the very least. And if Korbie had been rescued by Calvin, she may have already told the police that Jude was one of our kidnappers. We had no way of knowing how much trouble Jude was up against. Right now, I didn't want to think the worst. I didn't want to think about after, period.

  "Do you have a girlfriend?" Jude didn't strike me as a cheater, but it was a valid question. He knew I wasn't with anyone. If I was going to make a mistake with him tonight--and against my better judgment, I was considering it--I wanted to know I wasn't dragging a third party into the mix.

  "No."

  "That's it? Just 'no'? No explanation?"

  "You asked a straightforward question. Given the alternatives--'yes' and 'maybe'--I thought you'd be happy with 'no.' "

  "You're making fun of me."

  He smiled. "I don't have a girlfriend, Britt. My last serious relationship was a year ago. I've never cheated on any of the girls I've been with. If I feel the need to cheat, something in my relationship isn't working, and if I can't fix it, I end it. I don't believe in hurting people."

  "Very good answer, Mr. Jude . . . ?"

  I saw him hesitate, gauging me. "Van Sant. Jude Van Sant. That's my real name." He reached for me, catching me by the wrist. He stroked his thumb in a slow circle at the base of my palm.

  "Not so fast," I said, resting my finger on his lips as he bent to kiss me. "I like this new, open side of you. I want to hear more of your secrets."

  "Some things you have to find out for yourself."

  And he pulled me down on top of him.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Something about the morning sunlight slanting through the tree, and the moonshine's spell wearing off, made the memory of last night surge back with horrifying clarity. I lay stiffly on the ground, aghast as every detail of my actions flashed across my mind.

  I'd made out with Jude. The man who'd held me captive. That he was hot and sexy and protective of me was irrelevant.

  I kept my eyes shut in feigned sleep several minutes after I woke, even though I could hear Jude rustling around. I tried out icebreakers in my head. Nothing seemed appropriate. What had I been thinking, to drink moonshine? It had led me to kiss him.

  No. I'd been attracted to Jude when I was 100 percent sober. I could try to convince him it was the alcohol, but I couldn't lie to myself. I made out with him because I wanted to. It was shameful, but it was the truth.

  I massaged my palm into my forehead and grimaced. No choice but to get the awkward morning-after over with.

  "About last night," I began, sitting up and feeling a dull headache roll across my skull. With a shock, I realized I was experiencing my first hangover. Mild, but undenia
bly a hangover. If there was a silver lining, it was that my dad couldn't see how severely I'd disappointed him. Unfortunately, I couldn't spare myself the same humiliation.

  Pretending to be deeply interested in lacing my boots, I kept my eyes steadfastly on my feet, avoiding Jude's direct gaze. "What we did was stupid, obviously. A mistake." A colossal mistake. "I had too much to drink, and I wasn't thinking. I wish I could take it back."

  Jude made no comment.

  "I was half passed out when we . . . did what we did. I hardly remember what happened." If only it were true. In reality, my memory tormented me with a perfectly scripted blow-by-blow. "Whatever happened between us, I didn't mean it. The real me didn't do those things, I mean."

  When Jude still didn't respond, I stole a nervous glance in his direction. The careful, evaluating manner in which he watched me made it hard to read him. I was sure he felt the same way. Didn't he? There were so many things I wanted to ask him, but I stopped myself. I wasn't going to dig for a way to rationalize my behavior. It didn't matter what Jude thought. What I did was wrong, period. And he was the worst possible person I could have made such a grave mistake with.

  Jude sat up and stretched, languid as a cat. He rolled onto his knees, belted his jeans, and cast me a sly look. "How long did it take you to come up with that speech?"

  I frowned. "It wasn't a speech. It was impromptu."

  "Good. That explains why it sucked."

  "Sucked? Excuse me?"

  "You weren't drunk, Britt. You had a buzz, sure, but don't forget I took my half of the bottle. I'll try not to take offense that you think I'd impose myself on you while you were drunk. And if that's how you kiss when you're drunk, I can't wait to see what you kiss like when your mind is fully present."

  I stared at him, mouth ajar. I didn't know how to respond. Was he teasing me? At a time like this?

  "When was the last time you were kissed?" he went on easily. "And I'm not talking about the dry, noncommittal, meaningless kiss you forget about as soon as it's over."

  I scrambled out of my stupor long enough to quip, "Like last night's kiss?"

  He cocked an eyebrow. "That so? I wonder, then, why you moaned my name after you drifted to sleep."

  "I did not!"

  "If only I'd had a video recorder. When was the last time you were really kissed?" he repeated.

  "You seriously think I'm going to tell you?"

  "Your ex?" he guessed.

  "And if he was?"

  "Was it your ex who taught you to be ashamed and uncomfortable with intimacy? He took from you what he wanted, but never seemed to be around when you wanted something back, isn't that right? What do you want, Britt?" he asked me point-blank. "Do you really want to pretend like last night never happened?"

  "Whatever happened between me and Calvin isn't your business," I fired back. "For your information, he was a really great boyfriend. I--I wish I was with him right now!" I exclaimed untruthfully.

  My careless comment made him flinch, but he recovered quickly. "Does he love you?"

  "What?" I said, flustered.

  "If you know him so well, it shouldn't be a hard question. Is he in love with you? Was he ever in love with you?"

  I tossed my head back haughtily. "I know what you're doing. You're trying to cut him down because you're--you're jealous of him!"

  "You're damn right I'm jealous," he growled. "When I kiss a girl, I like to know she's thinking about me, not the fool who gave her up."

  I turned away, humiliated that he'd guessed the truth. I could try to deny it, but he'd see right through me. The air between us felt charged and thick, and I sat there, hating him for making me feel guilty. Hating myself for letting things go this far. There was a name for people who fell in love with their captors. This wasn't real attraction; I'd been brainwashed. I wished I could take back kissing him. I wished I could take back ever meeting him.

  Jude tied his bootlaces, yanking the knot. "I'm going to set a few traps and hopefully bring back breakfast. I shouldn't be gone more than a couple hours."

  "What about the grizzly?"

  "I just put two logs on the fire. He won't cross it to get to you."

  "What about--you?" I kept my voice carefully indifferent.

  He flashed me a cold smile, sharp at the edges. "Worried about me?"

  Because I couldn't think of anything snide to say, I stuck my tongue out at him.

  Jude wagged his head. "More tongue exercises? Would have thought you'd had enough last night."

  "Go to hell."

  "Sorry, love, but we're already there."

  Without another word, Jude strode off into the snowy forest.

  After Jude left, I decided to inventory our resources. The project would occupy my mind and keep me from analyzing my kiss with Jude. I did not want to figure out how I really felt about him. I did not want to admit that I might be in over my head.

  We had a day's hike to Idlewilde, and I wanted to make sure, if a new storm rolled in or we faced some other unseen obstacle, that I knew what supplies we had. Unzipping Jude's backpack, I began organizing his belongings into three groups: bedding, food, and tools.

  When I reached the bottom of the pack, I found a small canvas bag holding a few objects, but there wasn't a zipper, or any other opening that I could see. In fact, it was almost as if the bag had been entirely sewn shut. The objects' angular sides strained against the fabric, but I couldn't get to them.

  It shouldn't have surprised me that Jude was hiding something--he had gone on about the importance of secrets--but when I used the pocketknife I'd stolen from the ranger patrol cabin to make a neat incision along the seam, and when I saw the contents inside, that's exactly what I was. Surprised.

  No, not surprised. Shocked. Dizzy with disbelief. Sickened.

  I pulled out a photograph of a girl. It was a candid shot, taken from a distance, but the girl's eyes were eerily aware. Her wide, haughty smile seemed to gloat at the camera, her eyes sizzling with contempt, as if she were mentally flipping off the entire world with a single piercing look.

  Lauren Huntsman. The socialite who had disappeared last April while vacationing with her parents in Jackson Hole.

  Why did Jude have a picture of her? And not any picture, but one taken without her permission. It was like he'd been spying on her.

  I went back to the canvas bag, this time retrieving a pair of handcuffs. My stomach soured. Why would Jude have handcuffs? I could think of an explanation. And it wasn't good.

  I pulled out Lauren's diary next. It felt wrong to read her personal thoughts, but as I fanned through the pages, I told myself I was only keeping an eye out for Jude's name. I had to know how he was connected to her, but the bad feeling in my gut told me I already knew.

  Going dancing tonight. Watch out, Jackson Hole. It's gonna be one of those nights. Plan A: Get drunk. Plan B: Do something I'll regret. Plan C: Get arrested. Bonus points if I manage all three. Can't wait to see the look on M's face tomorrow. I'll know I've failed if she doesn't burst into tears at least once during dinner. Well, I'm off--wish me luck!

  XO, Lauren

  That was it. Lauren's diary ended abruptly on April 17 of last year. No mention of Jude.

  It wasn't until I pulled the final item from the canvas bag that my hands started to shake in earnest. A heart-shaped gold locket. I dimly remembered watching one of the press conferences related to Lauren's disappearance on TV. Lauren's father had held up a sketch of a heart-shaped gold locket that Lauren had worn every day since she was a girl. He was adamant she would have been wearing the locket the night she disappeared.

  It was now obvious why Jude had gone to great lengths to keep the contents of the bag secret. The evidence was indisputable.

  I recalled a conversation I'd overheard between Jude and Shaun. Their words had bothered me initially, but now that I could put them into context, they chilled my blood.

  I'm in charge, Ace. I brought you along to do one job; stay focused on that.

&nbs
p; Followed by Jude's disturbing response: We've been working together for almost a year. Think of everything I've done for you.

  A year ago, Lauren Huntsman vanished. Had Jude been involved? Had he murdered her? Was that his job description--killing?

  Had Jude charmed Lauren first, like he had charmed me?

  My head began to reel. A sour, sick feeling tickled the back of my throat. As I remembered kissing Jude, I felt like I'd been doused with ice water. I remembered lying beneath him, trapped by his body, the closeness of him almost overwhelming. I remembered his hands under my shirt, stroking--everywhere. I'd shivered then, and I shivered now. I felt dirty. What if he'd planned to seduce me, then kill me?

  I never should have trusted him.

  I was still rattled five minutes later, when I finished shoving Lauren's belongings and Jude's supplies into my backpack. I looked everywhere for Calvin's map, but Jude had taken it with him. Never mind the map. I knew Idlewilde was less than four miles from here, on the other side of two glacial lakes connected by a narrow strait. The water would be frozen, and I could cross the strait on foot. I was scared to hike the forest alone, but I couldn't stay any longer. I had no way of mending the canvas bag. Jude would know I'd found his secret. And it would change everything.

  I hefted the backpack onto my shoulders. I meant to leave quickly, but something caused me to pause outside the entrance to our hideaway.

  My insides squeezed at the sight of the crushed branches that had served as our bed. I thought of the many subtle ways Jude had helped me during the past few days, especially when Shaun was alive. He'd deflected Shaun's anger and encouraged me when I'd been on the brink of despair. He'd tried his best to make me comfortable. Was someone capable of such kindness also capable of such savagery? Did I really believe Jude could have killed Lauren Huntsman?

  My mind traveled back to the evidence. If I tried to make excuses for Jude now, I really was suffering from Stockholm syndrome. I'd tricked myself into believing I knew him. I'd looked past the hardened criminal and invented a romantic tale of a tortured hero in need of redemption. What a grave error in judgment.

  No more excuses. The evidence was truth.

  I walked hurriedly in the opposite direction from where I'd seen Jude go. He had the map, but I had the supplies. He was an expert tracker, but he wouldn't last long without water, blankets, a fire starter, and headlamps. Plus, I was counting on him being gone a while longer. Last time, it had taken us hours to hunt for food. If I got enough of a head start, I could beat him to Idlewilde.