Cover Me

chapter 9



Rolling to rest against an icy stop sign, Wade shook his head clear. Adrenaline stinging his veins, he scoured the growing crowd for Sunny. Her dog’s heart pounded steadily under his hand as the mutt sat up carefully. No blood. Just chunks of snow in Chewie’s fur. Not surprising, since Wade’s cheek stung from contact

with the ice.

He worked his own shoulder gingerly and all seemed intact as he shoved to his feet, still searching the swelling throng. And there she was, holding onto a telephone pole, pale but in one piece. He reeled with relief.

Thank God. He hadn’t realized until that moment that his heart was lodged somewhere in his throat. He never, never lost his edge in a crisis. His job demanded cool and calm. He forced his pulse to steady.

The wrecked car jutted from the mom-and-pop diner, steam from the hood encompassing the scene. Bricks and glass littered the sidewalk. People poured through the door, pulling on coats, some crying.

Professional instincts kicked in. He needed to check for injured bystanders. Onlookers had circled in the middle of the street, usually a sign of something bad. He shouldered through the gawking throng, parting the crush one determined step at a time.

“Coming through. I’m a medic. Step aside, please.”

The wall of people parted to reveal… a man in massive snow gear lying on the iced road. The individual appeared to be in his thirties, and not likely to get any older. His neck and left leg were twisted at an unnatural angle.

And the corpse’s blue eyes stared sightlessly at the morning sky. Damn. Wade dropped to his knees to check for a pulse, already knowing he wouldn’t find one. No matter how many times he faced death, it still resonated in his gut.

Even CPR couldn’t bring this one back.

Shooting to his feet, he shifted his attention to the vehicle in the diner. Two people were closing in on the teenaged driver already stepping out of the car, one of the individuals wearing a firefighter’s uniform. The firefighter must have been having breakfast before or after her shift. Either way, the gangly teenage driver—who ironically didn’t appear to have a scratch on him—was being taken care of.

Now that the pressing need for action had passed, he wondered. Why had Chewie run toward this guy? Wade stared closer at the face and while something tugged at him, he couldn’t place where he’d seen the guy before.

Sunny’s hand fell to rest on his shoulder, jolting him. He clasped her hand before turning.

He stared up, into her horrified eyes. “Sunny?”

“The deputy who shot at us”—she pointed toward the lifeless body on the road—“on the mountain. It’s him.”

The deputy? What the hell? They were hundreds of miles away—and an airplane ride to boot—from where they’d seen him last on the mountain. Why would he be here, across the street from where Sunny just happened to be staying, unless he was tracking her?

Wade’s gaze zipped to the lifeless man who shouldn’t even be in this region at all, much less hanging out a few yards away from Sunny. “We need to get to base and talk to the OSI, now. Remember the thing I said you needed to know?”

He certainly couldn’t tell her about the newly discovered icy graveyard now, in public. Soon though. Because something bad was going on, something big and far-reaching, for this guy to come all the way here after them.

“Of course”—she clasped his hand—“you’re right. Let’s get Chewie and go.” She paused, then shot to her feet again. “Chewie? What’s the matter boy? Chewie!”

The rising panic in her voice alerted him a second before he looked back over his shoulder to find the massive dog limping toward Sunny with determined, loyal—painful steps.

With a killing field of faces to identify, a dead body in front of them, and now an injured pet to care for, Sunny wouldn’t be leaving for the Aleutian Islands anytime soon.

***



This day had gone from bad to insane.

An untasted mug of coffee clutched in her hands, Sunny sat in a sterile interrogation room at the military base’s Office of Special Investigation with her interrogator—Special Agent Steve Lasky. In his fifties, the agent had a shaved bald head, piercing eyes, and nicotine-stained fingertips. As best she could tell, the Office of Special Investigations—OSI—was an air force branch of military intelligence. Since Wade had become involved in the incident on the mountain, the OSI entered the ongoing investigation.

Along with how many other law enforcement branches?

Jotting notes on an old-school steno pad, he sat across the table from her, his black suit coat sliding open to reveal his gun in a shoulder harness. From what she’d seen, it seemed to be a fifty-fifty split in the OSI of uniforms and civilian clothes.

He caught her shift in attention to his weapon and eased his jacket back over the gleaming silver gun. “And you were chosen to escort the couple”—he referred to his notes on the steel table—“Ted and Madison for what reason?”

“I’m the town’s guide. I also offer survival and fitness training.” This tiny room with no windows and recycled air threatened to choke her. “Hiking, trekking, mountain climbing, riding snow machines… It’s what I do.”

“Right…” He made a note, absently patting his jacket as if looking for a pack of cigarettes. “And all of the other people, you were their trail guide as well?”

“Some, not all. Depends on the weather. I do the walking and snow machine escorts. When the weather permits, the Everett brothers drive their snowplow down the trail.”

“Everett brothers?” He glanced up.

“Twins. Flynn and Ryker.” Big blond lugs with smiles as wide as the Alaska landscape. “Their father heads the town council.” With every word she felt like a Judas sharing all their names, exposing their town, but good God, who could ever have imagined such a large-scale horror?

Lasky nodded toward the TV screen bolted to the ceiling. The screen, now blank, had scrolled morgue shot after morgue shot earlier, each one a horrifyingly familiar face. “I need to know exactly which ones you escorted and which ones they drove out.”

She weighed his request and decided that much she could do. Hopefully, the more she complied, the less he would delve into other areas of their lives.

Image after image of frozen, lifeless faces reappeared on the screen until all eleven plus Ted and Madison were lined up together like a page in a tragic school yearbook. “Ted, Madison, Cheryl, Gregory, Lee, Hope went with me. June, Rose, Marvin, George, and the three O’Brien brothers rode with one of the Everett twins.”

And others had left, close to as many as filled the screen now, their faces unaccounted for. Were they frozen out there too? What else would the National Guard uncover?

The coffee mug rattled against the metal table as her hands trembled harder.

Agent Lasky shoved his chair back. “That’ll do for now, Miss Foster. If you’ll sit tight, I’ll be back in ten minutes or so.” He started for the door.

“Am I under arrest?”

He glanced back over his shoulder. “Why would you ask that?”

“Because it feels like I’m being held prisoner here.”

Those too-perceptive piercing eyes had her fighting the urge to fidget in her seat.

“We ruled you out as a suspect early on. Your survival knife doesn’t match the wounds. And all the cuts were made by a right-handed person.” He nodded to her hold on her mug of coffee. “You’re obviously very left-handed, something we determined the second we had you sign in.”

His words reassured her and chilled her at the same time. Everything he’d said and done had been an interrogation technique. What else had he ferreted out of her without her realizing it? “Thank you. I think.”

“You’re welcome. You’re free to go. With Deputy Smith out of the picture, there’s nothing to fear. Is there?”

God, she was beginning to really hate those open-ended probing questions of his. “I appreciate your help, Agent Lasky.”

Scratching over his cigarette pocket again, he nodded brusquely. He opened the sealed metal door with a sinister hiss, leaving her completely alone in the freaky small room.

Could the deputy really have been a serial killer as Agent Lasky seemed to believe? If so, how had he figured out where she was, much less followed her all the way to Wade’s so quickly?

The car crash appeared to have been an accident at least. The driver of the car shouldn’t even have been behind the wheel at fifteen years old. He’d said Chewie running out in the road freaked him, then he’d lost control of his car and hit the deputy.

The deputy, someone in uniform she should have been able to trust, had pretended to be her ally for the past two years as she passed over dear friends into his care. God, was there anyone she could she trust anymore? Certainly not some slick-suited agent she didn’t even know.

Acid frothed in her stomach as she thought about how close her sister had come to being among those dead faces. What if Misty tried to strike out on her own before she could get back? Sunny pushed aside her coffee. She couldn’t risk putting anything in her stomach anytime soon. At least the deputy had been stopped, and their friends would receive a proper burial. If he’d acted alone as the authorities seemed to believe, her sister was safe.

However, the longer she sat here, the more she feared there could be something more, some terrible threat still lurking in their closed-off community. Sure, those dead bodies, the retrieval, the questions, would eventually lead authorities to investigate her village.

But she was more concerned with the here and now.

Lasky had requested she stay silent about everything for forty-eight hours while they looked into the matter further with the Alaska police and National Guard searching the area. They wanted to keep a lid on things so as not to create widespread panic and miscommunication of details.

Where did that leave her?

No way in hell could she just sit around on her hands waiting, hoping nothing bad would happen. She was a woman of action. Yes, she could email her brother a warning, but she couldn’t simply hope that email arrived in a timely fashion. How often had she seen a post come in three days after it had been sent? At least she knew email was working somewhat, since he’d sent word about the money transfer and a contact number for a flight home.

Her eyes darted nervously toward the one-way window. In the spooky bowels of a military intelligence unit, it felt as if they could hear her thoughts as well as watch her every move. Were there body language experts on the other side of that pane of glass, reading her nerves, sensing her need to run?

Was Wade there?

Everything had happened so quickly once he’d told her they needed to go to the base—ASAP. He’d scooped up her dog so carefully, so tenderly, her heart squeezed in her chest. She’d raced after him, half expecting police to tell them to stop, but apparently the injured pet had provided enough reason for people not to question their leaving.

On the drive over, Wade had called the base. From the one-sided conversation, she could tell he’d phoned his friend McCabe, the one who’d cracked jokes in the helicopter the day they’d been rescued. Wade had asked McCabe to arrange for the base veterinarian to meet them and attend to Chewie while he and Sunny spoke with OSI Special Agent Lasky.

She hadn’t wanted to leave her dog for even a second. But now she understood all eleven reasons why.

Her eyes shot back up to the screen, filled again with rows of small images, all the dead faces together. Right now, this was bigger than her brother. She couldn’t risk just trusting on faith that the deputy was a random serial killer who only targeted people from her community. This had become life and death important.

Not only could her community be in danger, but they wouldn’t even see the threat coming. They’d grown so comfortable in their utopia, thinking they could live alone and free of the rest of the world, peacefully close to nature. But they had been targeted like fish in a barrel and the local police had just let it happen.

She had such warm memories of growing up off-the-grid, but they were souring in a hurry now that she could see they’d never really been as isolated as she’d imagined.

The fairy tale was over. Going it alone hadn’t worked for her thus far.

And there was only one person she could even consider trusting to help with her single chance at warning the community—warning her sister—before everything blew up in their faces. She needed Wade to go with her. She’d never seen anyone navigate the harsh Aleutian terrain as skillfully as he did. She was smart enough to know she’d need help getting back in, and Wade was just the man to offer it.

Afterward, they could go their separate ways.

***



Staring at Sunny through the one-way mirror felt like an invasion of her privacy. But Wade couldn’t force himself to look away.

Special Agent Lasky—a guy with a shaved bald head and spooky, all knowing eyes—had gone to verify the names she’d supplied for each of the bodies, her skin turning paler with each person identified. People from her community. It had taken all his restraint not to burst through that door and cover her eyes against his shoulder, to shield her from the horror no one should have to see.

“I’m so screwed,” he muttered under his breath.

Liam McCabe leaned into view. “And not in a good way, I take it?”

The major tugged his uniform, obviously having rushed over on the weekend in a hurry. A host of dead bodies buried in ice would speed up any morning ritual. At least the slower weekend pace afforded them some privacy in the tiled hallway.

“Not funny.” Not even the best-delivered punch line could pierce his dark mood today. Too much danger was skating too close to Sunny. “What if her dog hadn’t taken off at that moment? What if that bastard Rand Smith had gotten his hands on Sunny while I was backing the truck out of the garage? Damn it”—he thumped the wall beside the mirror, the framed photo of the base commander rattling—“I should have seen something like this coming. I should have protected her.”

“Ah…” The major leaned closer. “So that’s the way this rolls with the two of you, is it?”

He ignored the not-so-subtle hint for more information. “How’s her dog? How’s Chewie?”

Seeing the furry mutt’s stoic attempt to hobble back to Sunny in spite of the obvious and extreme pain had been moving as hell. That kind of devotion was rare.

“The vet took an X-ray. No broken bones—”

Wade’s fist unfurled against the wall. “Some good news at least in one helluva day.”

“Amen to that.” The major scrubbed a hand over a couple of razor cuts along his jaw from a hasty shave. “But there’s definitely a sprain, perhaps even a tear in a tendon. He said the dog will need crate rest for at least a couple weeks.”

“How was Chewie? Did he seem stressed over Sunny not being with him?”

“He seemed to remember the vet from before, which helped keep him chilled.”

“That’s good.”

Relief sucked the air right out of him. For the dog—and for Sunny, who would have been devastated if anything happened to Chewie. Her bond with the animal couldn’t be missed. Only once he’d told her about the discovery of the additional dead bodies had he been able to pry her from her pet’s side.

Fast on the heels of that image, a damn selfish thought slithered through his brain. Now she would have to stick around for at least two weeks. No way could Chewie make it through a mountain pass in his condition.

Heavy footsteps sounded in the hall, jerking them both alert and upright until Hugh Franco rounded the corner in uniform, although it looked like he’d slept in the thing. “Damn, Brick, can’t you stay out of trouble for even twenty-four hours? I couldn’t believe it when McCabe called me.”

Wade thumped his fist to his heart. “Your compassion overwhelms me, my friend.”

“Hey, I don’t roll out of bed this early for just anyone.” He pulled his sunglasses from his head and hooked them on the neck of his wrinkled ABU jacket. “How did it go with the OSI? Any leads?”

“Two agents grilled me, picking apart every word looking for leads that so far I’m not seeing.” He didn’t like having his time with Sunny splashed all over some official report, but her safety was most important.

“And their theory?”

“They say it’s too early to have any definitive answers, yada yada, the sort of evasive responses you expect. But they suspect a serial killer scenario. They’re investigating how Smith made it all the way here, and why the hell he was standing around right outside my place. We’re too far from her home and his for it to be coincidental.”

Wade looked from Sunny back at his two closest friends on the planet. Men he would trust to have his back in a bar fight. Men he would trust with his life.

Men he would trust with Sunny’s life.

“I just want to get her away from here,” Wade said. “You know? Use some of all those leave days I’ve built up and give her a chance to decompress until they sort things out. God forbid there should more to this than Lasky and the rest are considering.” The farther he got her away from here, the better.

And he knew how to do that too. He had the survival training, the specialized skills, to fall off-the-grid in ways her community couldn’t even begin to fathom.

Franco’s smile flattened in a flash. “Whatever you need for her, we’re here.”

An uncomfortable silence settled at the intensity in his voice, an understandable intensity. Franco had lost his wife and daughter years ago in a freak plane crash. He’d fallen apart and almost got psych-evaled off the team. Somehow he’d pulled it together enough to function, to work, but there was an edge to everything he did now.

And when it came to protecting women and kids, he was damn near superhuman.

McCabe cleared his throat. “So, Brick, did you jar anything lose when you tangoed with that car this morning? Do you need me to check out those stitches?”

“All two of them? I’m okay, just a little road rash from when I hit the ground.” He worked his arm, the ABU rubbing across abraded skin. “Shoulder’s sore, but manageable.”

McCabe studied him through narrowed eyes as if deciding on whether to insist on checking him over. “You’ve had some kind of target on your back since you met this woman. What’s she mixed up in?”

His defensive hackles rose. “There are a lot of reasons people go off-the-grid.”

Franco’s grin returned, half-wattage but powering back to life. “Yeah, just ask Henry David Thoreau.”

The major snorted. “Who knew you were a literary scholar?”

“I even read books without pictures.”

“Somehow I didn’t peg you as having Walden on your nightstand.”

Franco’s smile held for a few seconds before he looked back through the glass again, where Sunny turned her full mug of coffee around and around on the table. “I’m not angling to start a book club here. I’m just saying that I agree with our buddy the major. Your girlfriend seems to be mixed up in some bad mojo.”

He’d wondered the same, but hearing it from someone else? Wade couldn’t stop the defensive comeback. “I’m waiting to hear what the OSI’s peek into her past has to say before passing judgment, thanks…” Oh, and uh… “She’s not my girlfriend.”

How junior high–like did that sound? And shit. His neck was hot, as if he was blushing or something. Must be more road rash. Yeah, he was going with that.

McCabe didn’t look like he was fooled for a minute. “Whatever.” His forehead furrowed and he thumbed the crinkles between his eyebrows as if battling a headache. “No matter how it looks, I have my doubts about the serial killer theory.”

Damn. Just what he needed. More affirmation of his own concerns. Because Wade had learned one hard-and-fast truism over the years. He could always count on the instincts of his team.

His gaze landed on Sunny, on the vulnerable curve of her neck and the bold brace of her shoulders, with long brown hair cascading down her back. Damn straight he had to get her somewhere safe, and soon, although he suspected persuading her would take some major maneuvering. Whatever it took, he was sticking to her side.

Details first, however.

“Hey, guys, I do need a favor.” He hooked an arm around each man’s shoulder, McCabe on one side, Franco on the other. “Which of you can dog-sit a seventy-five-pound husky mutt on crate rest?”

***



Sunny was ready to jump out of her skin.

If they didn’t let her out of this teeny-tiny room soon, she would lose it. Seriously lose it. Lasky may have said she was free to go, but there was still the technicality of getting through that freaking metal door. She never would have thought herself claustrophobic, but after so long living in the wide outdoors, this interrogation cube on a military base with fences and guards… She shuddered.

The soundproof walls were closing in on her faster and faster by the second. More than her hands were shaking. Her teeth chattered. She was trembling from the inside out.

The thick metal door opened with a hiss. She jolted in her seat, almost toppling the cold metal chair.

God, had they vapor-locked her inside this room?

She righted her chair just as Wade strode through the yawning portal. His big, muscled body filled out his camouflage uniform with invincibility. She never would have guessed just yesterday he’d suffered an injury that would have sent most people diving for bed rest for at least a week. She also barely recognized the uninhibited, wildly passionate lover of last night. The man before her was all military precision and rigid focus.

Wade whipped out a steel chair from the other side of the table and turned it smoothly around, sitting, resting his forearms on the back. Waiting for him to speak, to take her cue from his tone, Sunny stared at him, but he didn’t say a word. Just watched her through his chocolate brown eyes, the same eyes that had devoured every inch of her naked body by firelight on a bear rug. She wanted to return to that pocket of time, to that accessible, sensual man rather than this remote wall of cool professionalism.

But she knew it was impossible. Things had changed irrefutably. She didn’t have the time or luxury of indulging in an affair with Wade.

Sunny nudged her coffee aside, liquid sloshing over the side. “I want to go home.”

Still he didn’t speak. Muscles twitched and bunched under his uniform until the camo pattern along his arms took on a serpentine life of its own while the man himself still sat stone-still.

She dabbed up the spilled java with a napkin before leaning forward, elbows on the table. “You don’t look surprised.”

“I’m not,” he said simply, voice gravelly, the only outward sign of all the physical strain his body had endured over the past few days. “Although I don’t think it sounds like such a good idea.”

“Agent Lasky said I’m not under arrest. Is there some law enforcement mandate for me to stay in town?” Panic seeped into her, claustrophobia spreading. She felt as if she were talking to a brick wall.

“Of course not. But it wouldn’t hurt to keep a low profile for a while, until things clear up and we can be sure you’re safe.”

Low profile? “That’s what I said. I want to go home.”

“You aren’t hearing me. You need to stay clear of anything associated with your village until we find out for sure exactly what happened to your friends.” He covered her hand with his, his skin callused, his touch warm and familiar. “Sunny…”

She chewed her bottom lip, the barely banked fire from last night rekindling inside her. “What?”

He leaned closer, his back to the one-way window. “Let’s go off together,” he said softly, low and gravelly with unmistakable desire. “We can forget about everything else except each other, being together.”

His whispered words tempted her as much as his touch. And that was a lot.

She had to strengthen her resolve. There was danger out there threatening her family, her friends, and she couldn’t turn away. “I have to go home.”

One dark eyebrow cranked upward and his hand slid from hers, cool air chilling her skin and deeper.

“Okay,” he said slowly, although his face turned stony again, not offering much encouragement that he’d actually conceded. “You’ll need to stay in contact for the rest of the investigation. Can you do that from your middle-of-nowhere town?”

They had a satellite phone, not that anyone had picked up when she called the number. That happened sometimes, depending on the weather. She would figure that out when she got home, once she talked to her brother, hopefully her sister too. “I can arrange it when I get back.”

“Nuh-uh.” He shook his head. “They’re going to want your contact information. Hell, I wouldn’t mind a little of that myself.” Irritation flashed through his eyes, the first sign of any real emotion since he’d walked through the door. He thumbed up another dry napkin and slid it across the table. “I’ll even settle for your number and address scrawled right here.”

Were there people out there listening to their conversation? Was he acting as some kind of interrogator, in spite of his understated sexual overture? She chilled from the inside out even in the heated air wafting from vents above.

“I know this is getting out of hand.” She plowed her fingers through her loose hair and wished for a hair tie, a way to control something in her out-of-control world. “Can we talk on the way over to see my dog?”

“Of course.” His face relaxed a little for the first time since walking into the room. “Discussion would be a good thing.”

So he could change her mind? Not gonna happen, but it wouldn’t hurt to let him think he had a chance, especially if it would get her out of this white-walled cell.

“Yes, let’s go now, please.” She reached across the table to clasp his hand, to regain some kind of connection, even if it couldn’t last. “Have you heard anything from the vet?”

“As a matter of fact”—his brow furrowed so deeply her gut lurched in fear—“the good news is there are no broken bones. But it appears Chewie has a sprain or a torn ligament.”

Her heart lurched, then settled. No broken bones. No broken bones. No broken bones. Those blessed words kept ringing through her head, easing the knot in her gut enough that she could hear Wade continuing to speak.

“I’m sorry I didn’t do a better job at protecting him from the car and the fall.”

The earnest regret in his voice softened her. “You saved his life. I know that. I just need to see him.” She needed to bury her face in his familiar coat, reassure herself he was all right. She pushed back her chair, metal scraping against tile. “Where exactly is he?”

“The vet here on base is caring for him. I’ll take you there.” Wade stood as well, still towering but not as remote and intimidating as when he’d first stepped in the room, which made it easier for her to say what she needed to tell him.

“Good, then I can collect him on my way out.”

She tamped down the regrets over closing the door on her time with Wade. She didn’t have any choice. Her brother needed her. The whole village needed a warning.

And she needed this man. “Because I am going home, and I want your help getting there.”