Chill (6 page)

Isabella bumped into him, and her breast brushed against his upper arm. Her eyes widened, and she immediately pulled back. “Don’t grab me.” She tried to pull away, but he tightened his grip.

“Did you come alone?” He had to know. Had to get answers. Find out how bad the crack in his new life was.

She nodded. “Of course.”

“Who knows you’re here? Who knows you’re trying to find Adam?”

She frowned. “No one.” She looked over her shoulder suddenly, and he realized she was checking out how far she was from the front door.

No one had been afraid of him in eight years. Out here, he was Luke Webber, affable guy, kickass pilot. Not someone people feared. He’d worked hard not to be that man anymore, and it bit deeply to see a woman recoil from him.

But for right now, he was okay with that. Right now, he needed answers.

If she were telling the truth and no one knew she was here, that was good. Very good. It meant she was the only chink in his shield. He squeezed her wrist, and
she snapped her gaze back toward him. “You should be afraid of being alone with me,” he said quietly. “I’m very, very bad news to anyone who walks in my shadow. Alaska fucks with people.” But he knew the last part was a lie. Alaska had kept him sane. It was his old life that had made him so dangerous.

Her face paled. “Let me go.” She tugged again, and still he didn’t release her.

He wasn’t finished. “What made you think Adam was still in this area? Tell me what brought you here in search of him.”

She yanked her hand again, and this time he allowed her to slip free. “Why do you care?”

Shit. He had two choices. Admit he was Adam and drill her for information, or continue trying to keep his cover. Once he admitted it to her, he’d have to bury himself again, or kill her.

He didn’t do the latter anymore, and he wasn’t ready to abandon Luke Webber and his life in Alaska.

But he would watch her. He would track her down and learn every secret she had until he knew what was going on.

“Why do you want to know?” she asked again. There was no mistaking the challenge in her voice.

He liked her attitude. He was impressed she’d recovered from her initial bout of fear and was pushing back. He admired the fire in her weary eyes and the way that cashmere sweater curved over that body of hers. A tragedy that she’d come here looking for Adam. He’d have liked a night in bed with her. But not now. Now it was about survival. So he forced himself to shrug. “Just wanted to know if I can find the bastard myself.”

She cocked her head. “You look exactly like the pictures of Adam.”

Of course he did. “Adam and I look so similar, he was able to filch my wallet, walk into my bank and clean out my account.”

She stared at him, her eyes narrowing. He could see the wheels turning in her head as she tried to decide whether or not to believe him. It all depended on how much information she had. He wanted to know what she knew.

But now wasn’t the time.

Now he needed to disappear and assess from the shadows. He would let her go, but he would track her. Find out what she knew. He caught her upper arm. “Isa—”

“Ow!” She yelped and flinched, and he immediately released her.

“Injury?” It had been more than a simple injury. His touch had been light and her reaction had been intense. “What happened to your shoulder?”

She blinked back sudden tears and cradled her arm to her chest, as if trying to take the weight off her shoulder. “I’m fine.” Her voice was laced with pain.

A total lie. He wanted to rip that sweater right off and see what she was hiding. He didn’t like the way she was hunched over, or the paleness of her face. There were beads of perspiration on her forehead, despite the steadily dropping temperature. Something was definitely wrong with her.

But she was the enemy. She was trying to bring Adam Fie back to life. If he didn’t shake her, she would have to die.

And that wasn’t his style anymore. “Good luck finding Adam,” he said, not bothering to keep the edge out of his voice. “But be ready if you do. He’s a bastard.”

Isabella frowned at him. “Luke, I still need your help. Please—”

“No.” He realized she didn’t buy his denial. She still thought he was Adam.

And that was very, very bad for her.

Slowly, he leaned forward into her space. She straightened her shoulders as he closed the distance between them until there was less than an inch between their faces. She didn’t back up, and he was impressed with her backbone. Not too many people stood their ground when he got in their space. Under any other circumstances, he’d be all over the package she offered: courage, attitude and sensuality? Oh, yeah.

But today it was a whole different ball game. Today, it was about trying to keep her alive. “Isabella Kopas, let me offer you some advice.”

She lifted her chin. “I don’t take advice.”

“Well, you should in this case.” He brushed his knuckles over her jaw and he felt a smug sense of satisfaction at her quick intake of breath. “Forget about Adam Fie, and forget about Luke Webber. Death follows both of us, and you
will
get sucked in. Run while you can, sweet girl.”

She snorted. “I’m not sweet, and I’m not a girl.”

He let his mouth hover over hers. Felt her breath on his lips. “No, you’re not. You’re a sensual, gorgeous, strong woman, and you have an attitude that will get you killed. And seduced, if you’re not careful.” He cupped the back of her neck and grinned when she stiffened, but she didn’t pull away. He lowered his head and kissed her, a hard, deep kiss that gave him the taste of something so incredible that every fiber of his body sprang into alertness.

After an initial moment of shock, Isabella began to kiss him back, a wet, hot temptation that made his fingers curl into the back of her neck. He kneaded the muscle there, felt the tension knots in her neck fighting him. He growled deep in his throat, wrapped his arm around her waist and hauled her against him.

Their bodies hit with a thump, and she yelped with pain.

“Shit.” He released her instantly and she stumbled back, gripping her shoulder. Her face was even paler, and she started to sway.

Luke caught her good arm and steadied her. She looked up at him, pain, fear and vulnerability etched in the deep lines around her eyes. Desperation pinched her full lips.

It was then he knew Isabella Kopas was in real trouble. And the kind of trouble she brought was related to Marcus Fie.

Memory flashed in his head, of a woman’s body sprawled on the ground. Covered in blood. First one face, and then it shifted to another. Two women. Both his. Both dead because of him.

And Isabella would be number three.

He released her and stepped back. “Get out of
Alaska, Isabella. Get out and forget about Adam Fie and Luke Webber. If you don’t, I will come find you and make you wish you had. Run while you can.”

He had to leave before he crossed that line with her. His instincts were screaming that he shouldn’t allow someone who could tag him to walk away.

But the alternative was untenable.

He couldn’t let another female die because of him. Not another.

He leveled a hard look at her. “Do you understand me? Forget you were here.”

She stared at him, and then her hand went to the turquoise pendent resting between her breasts. “I understand,” she said quietly. “I understand secrets.”

And he saw in her eyes that she meant it. Isabella might not know him, but she knew about survival. He saw it in the pain in her beautiful eyes, in the way she held her necklace. It made him want to ask questions. Find out what she had suffered. Take away her past the way he’d ripped himself from his.

Not an option, but he sensed he could trust her with the secret he hadn’t acknowledged, with the question hanging in the air between them. “Then you can go.”

He turned his back on her and stepped off the porch. He didn’t look back. No way could he afford to see that haunted look in her eyes, or the knowledge on her face that he had once been Adam Fie. She knew who he was.

How the hell had she found him? And why?

Answers he would figure out on his own. A leak he would repair without her. Getting her involved was too dangerous for both of them.

The door shut behind him, and he knew Isabella
had gone back inside. She wasn’t going to chase him down.

He took a deep breath as he strode across the parking lot toward the planes. He’d done it. He’d faced down the anger and violence of Adam Fie, and he’d won. Isabella was walking away alive, and there was no fresh blood on his hands. But he could feel his edginess and a lifetime of instincts warning him not to leave her behind, despite his trust in her.

Adam Fie would never have trusted anyone. He suspected the worst and acted first.

Eight years in Alaska with good, honest people had taught Luke that some people were worth trusting, even with his own life. Cort had shown him that, and it was a lesson that had been extremely difficult for Luke to learn. But he’d also figured out it felt damn good not to watch his back all the time, and he’d be damned if he’d let a visit from his past take that away from him.

Adam Fie was telling him not to trust Isabella and to let her go. Luke Webber was saying the opposite.

But Luke was the one he believed nowadays, not some violent, narcissistic, paranoid automaton of Marcus Fie. But he still had to get on his plane and put some space between himself and Isabella, before she changed her mind, or before he did.

He reached the road and paused to let an oncoming car pass. He shifted his weight impatiently, antsy to get across the street and onto his plane.

Shit. He couldn’t stop thinking about how scared she’d looked. The desperation he’d sensed in her. Her shoulder injury. “
Someone is trying to kill me,
” she’d said.

And she’d believed he could help her. Why no one
else? Because it had something to do with Marcus Fie. That was the only possibility. Which meant if she thought her life was in danger, she was right.

People died around Marcus Fie.

Luke ground his jaw, rocking restlessly on the balls of his feet while he waited for the car to pass so he could cross the street. This wasn’t his battle anymore, not his world. That life had killed two people he’d loved dearly. It had been his fault, as much as if he’d been holding the weapon that had snuffed the life from their bodies. He wasn’t going there again.

Couldn’t go there again.

He’d made his break, and Isabella, by showing up here, could have easily just ripped apart his fragile peace by alerting his dad’s enemies as to where he was.

Jesus, he needed to get away from this. Needed to get to work figuring out what was going on. Figure out his safety zone. Whether his sanctuary had indeed been violated and what mistake he’d made.

Luke scowled at the approaching car, which had suddenly slowed significantly. What the hell was it doing? He wanted it to pass and get the hell out of his way so he could take off.

Screw that. The car was crawling now, and he wasn’t waiting for it to go by.

Luke sprinted across the street, making it easily ahead of the car. The headlights were bright, and he shielded his eyes to inspect the vehicle as he reached the other side and began to jog toward his plane.

From this angle, he could see there were three cars in a row, not the one he’d initially seen. The other two were tucked up behind the first one, as if they were drafting off of it.

He slowed down, frowning. That formation was unusual,
and looked as if they were trying to protect the occupant of the middle car…

He stopped dead at the thought. It was extremely unusual for there to be three cars in a row on this road at night, let alone humped up as if they were about to get it on.

His eyes narrowed as his mind clicked in and he began to sift through the details. Driving so slowly…as if they were searching for something.

Or someone.

Adam?

But the moment he had that thought, he recalled that Isabella had said no one else knew about him. Only she did.

Which meant they were after her.

Luke swore under his breath and eased into the shadows of a pickup truck so he could watch what was going on. He kept his attention riveted on the oncoming cars, viscerally aware of Isabella inside that bar. Alone. Her white rental car was parked at the end of the lot near Luke, glaringly obvious in its nature.

The oncoming cars slowed, and the first car turned into the lot, followed closely by the other two.
Shit.
The cars were all black, all expensive. The kind of cars people like Marcus Fie drove.

Luke shifted restlessly. He couldn’t afford to be seen. One look at him and they’d know who he was, no matter how many times he changed his name or buried the paper trails linking them.

And once he was exposed, Cort would be in danger. As would his pregnant wife, Kaylie.

He couldn’t do that to them. Not again. No one else was going to die because of his heritage. No one he cared about.

He owed it to Cort and Kaylie to slide back into the darkness and disappear forever.

One car headed around behind the building to cruise the back lot. One pulled into a parking space and its headlights turned off. The third began to drive very slowly along the cars toward the rental car.

Checking license plates.

Shit.
He couldn’t leave Isabella in there. He took a step toward the bar, then thought of Cort and his pregnant wife. They hadn’t asked to be put at risk. Isabella had. She’d chosen that life, and the payback was a bitch.

Cort and Kaylie and their baby were the innocents. Not Isabella.

“Don’t risk them,” Luke muttered to himself. He couldn’t afford to get involved—no matter how great she smelled, no matter how much he wanted to protect her. Too much at risk. Despite his best efforts to stay unconnected while in Alaska, he realized he’d failed on some levels. His choices were no longer just about him.

The third car paused behind Isabella’s, and then Luke checked out the car that had parked next to the front door of the bar. The doors opened and men got out from each side. They were dressed in black, nearly blending into the night. They began to head up the steps into the bar.

Luke whipped out his phone and punched in Cort’s number. His friend answered on the first ring. “You gone for the night?” Cort asked.

“Guys in black coming in. Spread the word that they’re bad news and make sure no one gives them anything. Get a warning to the girl, but don’t make contact yourself. Then get the hell out of there before
anyone approaches you. You don’t know me. No one does. I’m a ghost.”

“On it.” Cort disconnected without a question.

Luke knew the questions from his partner would come later, but for now those men would get nothing but cold, silent stares when they went inside. One thing Alaskans were great at was loyalty to their own and distrust of outsiders.

Luke could vanish, and there would be no record of him inside that bar.

As for Isabella…he swore and forced himself to turn and walk toward his plane.

Helping her would trade her life for Cort and Kaylie’s.

A trade-off he couldn’t stomach.

Isabella Kopas was on her own.

Isabella propped her elbows on the bar and dropped her forehead to her palms. “Okay, Isabella,
think.
”

She’d totally screwed up with Luke. What had happened to her grand plan not to tell him about his dad until he was on the plane with her back to Boston? She’d been so rattled by his appearance and by her reaction when he’d touched her. And then, when he’d rejected her so quickly, she’d been desperate to hang on to him and she’d blurted out the truth.

The intensity of his reaction to his father had stunned her. Yes, she’d been expecting resistance, but the pain in his eyes…after seeing that, she’d had to let him go. She understood that kind of anguish. Those kinds of secrets. But she hadn’t wanted to walk away, and not just because she wanted his help. He was so compelling she’d wanted to stay, to talk to him, to have him hold on to her again.

She rubbed her hand over the wrist he’d been gripping so tightly. When he’d grabbed her…her first instinct had been to pull back, but after he’d released her, she’d wanted to beg him to hold on again, like he was an anchor.

The bartender slapped his palm on the bar. “Your friends are coming in the front door.”

“My friends?” Isabella whirled around and met the steely gaze of a man she’d never seen before. He was wearing a dark suit, and he was flanked by two others just like him.

He smiled.

Isabella was too stunned to move for a split second. How could they possibly have tracked her here this fast? What kind of network was involved?

“Back door is behind the bar,” the bartender said, as he wiped a cloth casually over the counter near her.

She shot a frantic look at the red exit sign and knew she’d never make it. God, why hadn’t she anticipated this?
Shit, shit, shit!

The man took a step toward her, and she bolted for the rear exit.

“Hey!” the man shouted, and she heard him pounding across the floor. A hand grabbed the back of her sweater, and then suddenly he pitched forward into her. She stumbled and went down as he crashed heavily beside her.

She scrambled to her feet as the other two went flying into a nearby table. She shot a frantic glance at two weathered Alaskans sitting casually at a table beside the bar. They both had their feet stretched out in front of them, in the aisle.

One of them tipped his red-and-black checked hat at her.

“Thanks!” She spun around and ran for the door as the men started to climb to their feet.

She heard a gruff voice behind her snarl something about not allowing women to be threatened in their bar, and then she slammed her palms into the exit door and sprinted outside.

The frigid air sucked the breath from her chest, and she coughed as she ran past a Dumpster toward the side of the building. If she could just get to her car, she had a chance. She was almost to the corner of the bar and—

A man stepped in front of her, his face obscured by shadows. He had broad shoulders and an arrogant swagger to his stance. “Isabella.”

Isabella skidded to a stop at the deep male voice, her heart leaping with joy. “Luke? You came back?”

Then he took a step out of the shadows, and she realized it wasn’t Luke at all.

It was the man who’d shot Roseann.

Nate raised his gun and pointed it at her. Isabella froze, unable to think of anything but Roseann’s body splayed on the floor, and his utter lack of hesitation to shoot her friend. And the gun he had aimed right at her heart. “Nate—”

He suddenly raised his hands and dropped the gun. “Fuck.”

Luke’s grim face appeared over Nate’s shoulder. He moved slightly, revealing a shotgun he had lodged in the back of Nate’s neck.

Isabella’s heart leapt. “Lu—”

He shook his head once and sliced a hand through the air in front of his face to tell her to be silent.

Isabella clamped her lips shut.

Silently, Luke grasped Nate’s shoulder and used the gun and his hand to turn the man into the wall, so his face was buried against the side of the building. In that position, Nate couldn’t see either of them.

Luke jerked his head toward something behind Isabella.

She turned and saw acres and acres of dark, endless woods. The forest was pitch black, miles and miles of untamed wilderness, in a night that was dipping quickly to well below freezing. Was he kidding? “But—”

He shook his head once and held up three fingers, then dropped one.

The countdown.

Three seconds to run for her life.

She turned and ran.