Sabotaged (2 page)

“Who are you?” Reef asked, trying to buy time while he figured out a way to get Kirra and himself closer to the trees. This was only going down one way. He could read it in the man's eyes.

“None of your business,” the man replied.

Reef moved his hand to Kirra's wrist, strengthening his grip on her. If they could just make it to the trees, they'd have some cover. Only a few feet . . . He held up his free hand, inching back. “Look, we don't want any trouble.”

The man's arm stiffened. “I said stop moving!”

Reef held in place, his lungs burning. Adrenaline heating his veins. His legs itching to move.

“
What
did Frank tell you?” the man gritted out.

“He told us he was fine, that he didn't need any assistance,” Kirra said.

Reef looked to her.
Smart
.

“What else?”

“That's it.” She shrugged. “He didn't check in at Rainy Pass, so we came looking. He said he was just running behind.”

“That's it?”

“That's it. The storm has held up a number of mushers.”

“All right. Well, then I suppose it's a shame I'm going to have to kill you over nothing, but I can't risk it.”

Reef didn't waste a moment. He yanked Kirra into a run, pushing her in front of him. “Go!”

The gun fired, the explosion reverberating with a hollow
ping
. They wove through the trees as the gun fired repeatedly. Fierce heat lanced Reef's side.

Kirra screamed as the ground gave way beneath them.

Reef's jaw slammed onto the rock-strewn ice as he barreled down a steep incline, pain throbbing afresh with each bump and bounce. Everything whirled white around him as gunshots echoed. His free fall spun in a rapidly increasing rate until he slammed into something solid with bone-shattering pain.

“Reef?” Kirra crawled to his side. “Are you okay?”

He nodded, ignoring the pain surging through him. “Are you?”

“Yes. Come on.” She tugged his hand. “I know where we are.”

“What?”

Her gaze darted up the hill. “He's coming.”

Reef made out the form stumbling down after them.

“Come on. I know where we can hide.”

He scrambled to his feet. The pain was throbbing, but he pushed forward.

The man's footsteps crunched after them, unrelenting as the howling wind.

“Hide?” Had Kirra said
hide
? “Shouldn't we keep going?” Keep moving. Nausea roiled through him.

“We can't outrun him. Not with you injured.”

“I can keep going.”

“I don't doubt that, but this is best. Trust me.” She clamped hold of his hand.

Jagged slits of breath burned his lungs, moisture seeping down his right side.

“It's just ahead . . .” She surveyed the terrain as if suddenly uncertain, then pointed. “There.”

All he saw was snow. “I don't see . . . anything.”

“That's the point. He won't either.” She bent and pulled him down. He crumpled against the snow. It felt cool against his face.

“We have to go low from here,” she said, tugging him.

Swallowing the pain, he crawled forward, following Kirra into deeper darkness.

Branches and undergrowth slashed at their jackets, scraping the fabric with slithering sounds.

“Keep low,” she said.

The moonlight around them dimmed, debris thickened beneath them, the earth growing . . .
warmer
?

“Just follow the sound of my voice,” she instructed. “Only a little farther . . .”

Queasiness sloshed in his gut.

“Here,” she finally said. “Sit down.”

Exhausted, he slumped against something hard.

Kirra insisted Reef sit still while she set to making a fire. He was thankful that, though he was injured, she wasn't. Pain throbbed in his side. Something had taken a chunk out of it, or so it felt.

Before long the comforting scent of pine smoke filled the cave Kirra had dragged him into, wood crackling in the fire pit she'd fashioned.

Warmth permeated his skin, firelight dancing along the dark, arched ceiling. They needed the fire to survive the night in these temps, but wouldn't the man see the light? “Won't the fire give away our position?”

“We're too far in for this to be visible. Don't worry. He won't find us back here.”

Nor, he worried, would anyone else. When the rest of SAR was launched in the morning upon finding them missing, they'd never be found back in a remote cave. How did she even find this place?

“Now that I've got the fire started, let me take a look at that wound.” Unfortunately they'd had to leave what cold weather gear he'd grabbed with the snowmobile, which he
was betting was disabled at best, long gone at worst. Frank had said
they
were coming. How many more were on the way?

Kirra scooted closer, reaching for him. “Let me take a look.”

“It's not that bad. The pain is less.”

“Just let me look.”

“Okay.” If it made her feel better. He grabbed ahold of the right side of his jacket with his left hand and slowly inched it up. Kirra helped lift the additional layers he had on, her fingers cold to the touch but filling him with warmth all the same. Her skin was soft and delicate, just like her eyes had become. When they were in school, those eyes used to always be so vibrant, full of fire, but the light was not there when she came home from grad school. What had happened to vanquish it?

He trembled as her fingers slid up his chest.

“Sorry.” She pulled her hands back and rubbed them together. “They haven't fully warmed up yet.”

“You're fine.”
Better than fine
.

Worry filled her eyes, and he followed her concerned gaze down along his side, the light flickering off his pale skin covered with blood.

Kirra carefully examined the wound and then sighed with relief. “The bullet just grazed you, thank God.”

He'd been shot? He'd heard the gun's report, felt a hit, but it hadn't felt that bad. Had the cold and adrenaline combined to stall the pain? He closed his eyes.
Thank you, Lord.

“We don't have supplies to clean or bandage the wound, but . . . hold on.” She turned away.

“What are you doing?”

“Tearing my shirt.” The fabric ripped.

He kept his thoughts focused on the visual of the plaid fabric tearing and not on what the material covered. “You can use one of my shirts,” he said, wanting her to stay warm.

“No need. I've got plenty of layers.” Another rip.

Maybe if they were back in the warm cabin with a heating stove, or even if they had decent sleeping bags . . . but with temps hardly breaking zero, even in the cave, she wouldn't be warm enough.
They
wouldn't be warm enough.

“Seriously,” he said. “Let me use one of mine.”

“Already done.” She turned back, holding two jaggedly ripped flannel sleeves.

She knotted two ends together and then reached carefully around Reef's back, pulling the two open ends around his waist, moving gingerly as the fabric covered the wound.

He watched her work, her lithe fingers smoothing the green-and-purple fabric against his bloodied skin.

She shifted the open ends to his good side and knotted them, creating a sash to bind his injury. “There,” she said, lowering his shirt. “You should be okay until we get you back to Rainy Pass.”

He grabbed her hand before she could move away. “Thank you.”

She tilted her head, her gaze appraising him, searching. “You're welcome.” She'd been looking at him like that a lot lately, and he wondered what she saw.

Kirra stood, caught off guard by Reef's sincerity. He just kept surprising her. “I found a good amount of debris. The fire should hold until morning, or close to it.” But it wasn't enough to keep them warm. Not in these temperatures. Not in such a large cave.

“And then?” he asked, his husky voice deeper than usual.

She cleared her throat, trying to shake off the pleasure the sound of his voice resonated in her. “We head back for Rainy Pass.”

“How'd you know this cave was here?”

“Uncle Frank's been running the Iditarod for years. He took me and Meg out on practice runs several times, and we usually stopped here. Plus my family loved camping in this area.” Or at least they had until everything fell apart. Her father still didn't look at her the same; her mom's eyes always filled with pity. It was agonizing just being around them—the disgrace always bubbling to the surface.

Her parents' relocation to Juneau and then to Arizona, of all places, rather than sticking with the plan of her running Nanook Haven at her dad's side was for the best, even if it had destroyed one of her long-held dreams. The loss of a dream stung less than having to look her parents in the eye every day or avoid doing so. Uncle Frank and her cousin Meg . . . they were different. They looked at her the same. They were her only family to do so.

“You betting the snowmobile's gone?” Reef asked, giving her a reprieve from the painful thoughts.

“Yeah.” She dropped more kindling in the fire. “At the very least, he disabled it before he left.”

“Who was he?”

“I have no idea.”

“And what your uncle said . . . ?”

She hunched down, stoking the fire. “I have no idea.” It was crazy. Someone kidnapped her cousin? At first she'd thought the cold and the rigors of the race might have gotten to Frank. Disorientation, even hallucinations could happen with mental
and physical exhaustion, but the man with the gun proved her uncle's story true.

“Do you think . . . ?”

“He was hallucinating?” She shook her head. “I already ran through that scenario, and no, not Frank.”

“Why not?”

“For one, he's the strongest man I know, both physically and mentally.” He'd shown great fortitude when Aunt Sarah died and he'd been left to raise Meg on his own. “For two . . .”

“The man holding us at gunpoint, demanding to know what your uncle told us.”

“Right.” She nodded.

“So someone has your cousin.”

She tried not to let the horror of that sink in, tried not to think of the fear that must be coursing through Meg. She'd often prayed no one she loved would ever have to suffer what she herself had suffered—to be at someone's mercy. It was the most degrading and helpless feeling in the world. She prayed the man or men who had Meg actually possessed some mercy, because she'd found none.

“I'll call Landon and Jake as soon as we're back at Rainy Pass.”

“No.”

“No?”

“No cops. You heard Frank.”

“Yes, but I—”

“No buts. I gave Frank my word. We can't risk the man seeing any cops, even if they're your family.”

“Okay, then how do you propose we find your cousin?”

“We work search and rescue. She's our missing victim.” She cringed at the word—loathed it.

“All right, but—”

“No buts, Reef. I understand if you don't want to be a part of my search, but no cops.”

“You can't seriously think I'm just going to walk away from this?”

She shrugged.

“What kind of guy do you think I am?” Hurt flickered in his eyes. “Wait. Don't answer that.”

“Look, I appreciate you wanting to help.” She did. It was just . . .

“I'm coming. End of discussion.”

“You have a gunshot wound.”

“It's just a graze.”

“Yes, but—”

He straightened, his movement ginger. “Let me stop you right there. We know each other pretty well.”

“How do you figure that?” They'd hung in totally different circles their entire lives. For a while last summer they'd been thrown together in the search for Kayden, but since then—except for periodic search and rescue missions—they'd seen each other only occasionally. She'd often wondered why—

“Because we both see past the surface.”

She'd always thought she had . . . until William.

“You know I'm as stubborn as you are, and the fact is, you're stuck with me.”

She opened her mouth to argue.

“If you won't let me get the cops involved, then I'm absolutely not going to let you go it alone. It's not safe. Whoever has Meg clearly has someone watching you.”

“Me?” She'd thought he was watching Frank.

“He came from behind us. Not Frank. He chased after
us
. And I bet he's going to be watching to see what we do next.”

“Which makes an even better argument for you not to join me.” She stood, moving closer to him, yet keeping a wall of distance between them—her arms wrapped tight around her knees as she sat. “I know you and Meg had a thing a couple years back.”

Reef's brows lifted. “She mentioned us.”

Us?
That stung . . . surprisingly. “She said it wasn't anything serious.”

“It wasn't.”

“So why do you care so much about finding her?”

“Wow. You really do think so little of me.”

“I'm just saying . . .”

“That I'm the type of guy that's going to walk away when a lady is in trouble. Or in this case, ladies. What Meg and I had wasn't serious, but I still consider her a friend, and when a friend's in trouble, I help.”

“Fine. You can help.” Otherwise she couldn't trust him
not
to go to the police. “But I'm calling the shots.”

He grinned. “Don't you always?”

Gage McKenna woke, uneasiness stirring him, the sensation something was wrong biting at him. He rolled over and propped his head on his hand. It was dark, the bunkhouse still. He'd heard a snowmobile revving a while back, but surely it had been a dream. All SAR and communication hands were accounted for. Perhaps mushers were still lagging behind, but with the storm, that was to be expected. So what was nagging at him?

He turned over and tried to quiet his mind, but a frustrating half hour later, he climbed from the warmth of his sleeping bag and hopped down from the bunk. Darcy was sleeping in the back room with the rest of the ladies. He padded across the frigid floor—the stove required more wood. He glanced out the window. The snow was still surging and the wind whipping it in dancing frenzies across the whitened landscape. He glanced back, and his gaze fastened on Reef's empty bunk.