Denali Dreams (17 page)

“What’re you doing?”

Holding the arm he’d injured close, he rummaged through his pack then pulled out a radio phone. “I am never going to live this down,” he growled. With that, he crouched and did something to the phone before he lifted it to his face.

“No!” Jolie lunged toward him, the world spiraling with the move. She tumbled into the snow.

David spun. “What are you doing?”

She clambered to her knees. “Don’t call.”

Anger sparked in his eyes. “If I don’t call, we die.”

Jolie licked her lips. “Sorry. Just … don’t mention my name.”

“Why?”

He wouldn’t understand. Or believe her. In fact, she wasn’t sure herself.

“Afraid someone will find out the oil heiress got herself stuck in a hole on the same mountain her brother died on?” He grinned. “Imagine what they’ll say.”

His words felt like a slap in the face. Why she’d let herself kiss him she’d never know. “Just … please.” If whoever wanted to kill her had a radiophone, they’d know she was alive and know her location. She couldn’t—
wouldn’t
risk that.

“Base camp, this is Whiteeagle.”

“David.” A woman’s voice broke through the swirling wind. “Where are you?”

“South of 7200, in a crevasse.”

Silence hung in the cold seconds. “
In
it?”

“Yeah.”

“What about your climber?”

Jolie breathed a silent prayer of thanks that her name wasn’t mentioned.

“We’re both fine. No injuries. The anchor broke loose.”

“Okay. Hang tight. We’ll get help your way.”

“Thanks.” He pressed the radiophone to his forehead and closed his eyes as he let out a long sigh.

A sudden rush of craziness overcame Jolie. Dizzy and sick, she dropped to her knees. Her stomach heaved but nothing came up. An ever-widening red circle grew directly beneath her. She stared at the sphere, confused. Another red circle. Several more. Blood? From what?

David saw the blood dripping onto the snow and scrambled to Jolie’s side. With the altitude, nosebleeds were common, especially for those with acute mountain sickness. “Hey.” Hand resting on her back and one on her shoulder, he nudged her shoulders up. “Your nose is bleeding. Sit back.”

Jolie’s eyes fluttered as she moved under his guidance.

Using his teeth, David pried off his glove and pinched her nostrils. “Thought I told you to drink.”

“I did.”

“Not enough, obviously.”

“I downed the water.” Jolie propped against the wall, her head tilted back a little, and took over holding her nose. The blush in her face was gone, replaced too quickly by a white sheen. “I think … I think something’s … wrong.”

Using the loose snow to clean his hand, David smirked, trying to keep things light so she wouldn’t panic again. “Ya think?” Nothing like seeing that look in her eyes. It was why he’d kissed her. Stupid-fool thing to do, but she wouldn’t listen. And now … now he couldn’t stop thinking about the way she’d reacted. Or how he reacted to her reaction.

“No, no …” Jolie muttered. “I think … someone—”

“If you wanted to be alone with her, all you had to do was ask.”

David spun at the taunting voice just in time to see a rope snake down the wall of ice and snow. It thumped against the ground. At the top, a familiar pair of blue eyes peeked down at him. “Logan,” David said with a laugh. “Am I glad to see you.”

“Yeah, yeah. That’s what they all say.”

“How’d you get here so fast?”

“Already en route on patrol. I was heading up when Maggie radioed your position.” He nudged his chin toward Jolie. “Can you get her hooked up?”

“Yeah. I need to rig a torso harness. Hang on.” David worked the rope, watching Jolie. He quickly tied the gear to it and gave a quick tug, signaling its readiness. As it rose to the top, David rigged the harness. “Jo, how ya holding up?”

Arching an eyebrow at him, she let her eyes close.

On his haunches before her, he slipped the harness over Jolie and tightened it. She lifted herself up with a wince.

“No throwing up,” he ordered.

A glimmer of a smile came with her soft snort and shake of her head.

“All right. On your feet.” He took her hands and tugged her up.

“David,” she said, her words thick but clear. “I am not crazy.”

He smirked as he hooked the carabiners into place. “No, just spoiled.”

“Listen—”

“Okay to go,” David shouted to Logan and braced Jolie as her body tugged upward. She poured those honey eyes over him as she ascended. He watched, grateful for the physical distance between them. Too much of that girl could be his undoing.

Then it struck him—how had she descended so fast and so deep into the crevasse that held all that was sacred to him?

That kiss … it’d felt like he’d stuck his finger in a socket. Electricity shot through him at the softness of her lips, the quick intake of breath, the way she clung to him…. It took every ounce of willpower he had to break off that connection. He’d never had an experience like that. And it scared the willies out of him. He didn’t want to feel those kind of things for the girl whose brother got Mariah killed.

Yeah, definitely needed distance.

The rope lowered and David hooked up. Prusiking up tugged at his banged-up arm and shoulder, but it also allowed him to work off some of the frustration and claustrophobia Jolie had created.

Once he hauled himself over the ledge, David breathed a sigh of relief. But a short-lived one when he saw Logan tending Jolie. He lifted the cord and roped up as he made his way over to them.

“What’s going on?”

Logan glanced up at him, and though he didn’t say anything, his expression told David a lot. “Here.” After drawing a bottled water from Jolie’s pack, Logan handed it to her then stood. “We’ll be right back.”

Logan pushed to his feet and pointed a few feet away. “Let’s talk.”

“Shouldn’t we get moving?”

“In a second.” Logan trudged to the sled. “What happened?”

David shrugged. “Anchored in, then lowered myself to her. She was unconscious on the crevasse floor. When I tried to come back up, the rope gave.”

Logan lifted his pack and handed something to David.

His ice axe.
Correction: half the axe.

“It didn’t give,” Logan said. “Someone cut it.”

“I don’t get it.” Studying the grooves in the wood handle, David felt an ominous chill trace its icy finger down his spine. “It looks like it was hacked off.”

“With an ice axe.” Logan’s blue eyes sparkled as he took in the terrain, as if looking for someone or something. “Did you hear anything down there?”

Just white, forbidding Denali.

“Only the wind, Jolie throwing up, and …” The howl of his heart as they kissed. Jolted by the thoughts, he shifted away so Logan wouldn’t see his embarrassment. “Who would do this? Why?”

“Remember what Maggie said?”

“Dude, c’mon. There are easier ways to kill an oil heiress.”

“Sure, but easier ways to get rid of the body and hide the evidence? Up here, with snowdrifts and storms burying man and vegetation alike?”

“But drifts are unpredictable and storms come and go as they please.”

“So, this person decided to help it along … only she got away. You came to help. So, this person”—again, his gaze skated the mountain—“has to get rid of both of you now.”

David swallowed.

“Out here, they could get rid of her and nobody would find her decomposed body for months, if ever. You know that better than me.”

Hands on his belt, David stared up the incline. Then his gaze rose to the sky. He noted several factors: the warmer, moist air and the wind loft speed. “Logan.”

His friend straightened, taking in the surroundings, the elements. “Oh no.”

“Tell me that’s not what I think it is.”

“I would but then I’d be a liar.”

“Why—
why
can’t I get a break?”

Logan hesitated. “Think we can make it to Camp 1?”

“No way. We need to dig in now.” Together, they grabbed a tent from the sled, chose a spot with an incline at its back, and set up.

“What’s going on?” Jolie asked as she stumbled toward them, her lips bluish.

David didn’t pause in cutting blocks to form an ice wall around the tent. “Storm coming.”

“Are you sure? There wasn’t a report of storms—”

“Lenticular clouds form swiftly. Little to no warning.” David swung and heaved, placed, then did it again. And again. “Get inside. Guzzle that water.”

“How long will this last?”

“A few hours at most.” David felt the sweat trickling down his back. The aches in his shoulder and arm screamed at him. He yanked off his jacket and tossed it inside. “It’ll be gone by nightfall when the temperature drops.”

“Is that supposed to be reassuring?” Jolie slid her pack into the tent but didn’t enter.

“Absolutely,” Logan said with a laugh. “If you’ve seen a lenticular—trust me, you’ll be very glad it lasts only till nightfall. It’s a beast.”

“Let’s just hope we survive till then.” David tucked himself into the tent.

“Actually, more like four days.”

David paused. “Come again?”

“That’s why I came up after you,” Logan said. “Maggie got a storm warning. In twenty-four hours, we’re going to get slammed hard.” Meaning coated his expression. “It’s bad.”

S
omething dug into her shoulder. Jolie shifted, then shivered. Frigid temperature and the howling wind pulled her from a fitful rest. Her eyelids felt like weights, but she pushed them open all the same. A loud roar nudged her from a fitful sleep. Jolie forced her heavy eyes open. Startled to find someone lying within inches of her, she steeled her response as her brain caught up with the sight. Caught in a storm on Denali’s West Buttress. In a tent. With David.

Laid out on his back, one arm over his head, he seemed perfectly at home.

Curled on her side, Jolie shivered, the jerky movements exhausting her muscles. She tried to swallow against her parched throat but it felt like gulping rocks. Peeking around her sleeping bag, she scanned the semidarkened interior for her water bottle—and found Logan in his bag behind her. They’d sandwiched her. At least the gesture gave the illusion of safety and warmth.

If someone was after her the way she believed, would a storm be enough to hold them off? Trying to push through in a whiteout like this would get them killed.

Ah, there. Her bottle lay near the zipped tent opening with the packs. All blocked by David. Great. Could she reach across him? She had to. Her tongue felt three sizes too big.

“Your mouth is too big.
“

David’s taunt annoyed and amused her. But stretching over him to reach her water tempted her to get back at him. Chewing the inside of her lip, she peered down at him.

Whoa. The guy looked tense, even asleep. Tight corded bicep over his head. The too-small ears … the dark Athabascan skin, black hair in a short crop, strong but chapped lips.

It’d been a wonderful, warm kiss. His outdoors scent tantalizing. She’d never felt so drawn to a guy. And as a Decoteau, she’d had her choice of bachelors. So why on earth had she been so attracted to a man who hated her just for existing?

“You stuck?”

Jolie sucked in a sharp breath, her gaze darting to David’s. “You’re awake.”

“Always knew you were smart.”

Did she really say that?
Good grief!
No wonder he thought she was an idiot. “I—I mean …” Oh, forget what she meant. No way could she dig herself out of that hole. She plastered on a frustrated expression. “I was trying to get my water. You’re in the way.”

With a smirk and eyes never leaving hers, David drew his other arm out of the bag, reached over, and grabbed her bottle. “This?”

She snatched it from him and settled back into the bed. He’d caught her staring at him, lost in her fantasy world, where she’d long ago imagined dating him, marrying him, and having perfect children.

Was it hot in here?

Stuffed back in her bag, she propped herself up and flipped the nozzle. Ignoring David’s eyes, which had never left her, she lifted the bottle to her lips.

“Wait.” David yanked it out of her hand.

“Hey!”

He sat up, closing the valve and staring at the insulated bottle.

“What are you doing? Give it back.”

He angled it toward her. “You’re sick, but the symptoms don’t match AMS or HACE. So, what if”—he bounced the water bottle—“what if someone’s tampering with your water?”

His words shoved her onto her backside. A chill spread through her chest.
I was right….
Someone wanted to kill her. But … why?

“What’s going on, Jolie?”

She met David’s concerned stare. “What?”

“Don’t play dumb. I saw it in your eyes.”

Would he believe her? This was proof, wasn’t it? What if he just accused her, again, of being a spoiled rich girl who thought everyone wanted her money? Okay, that wasn’t entirely rational.

He scowled.

Her heart sped at the look on his face. “Okay.” She held up a hand. “I … my father’s confidant told me he thought someone had killed my father.” Guilt chugged through her veins. Why hadn’t she seen it? “He thought I might be in danger, so he was glad I was getting away for a while.”