I glance at the clock. We’ve got minutes, not hours.
“We’re trapped here?” My back teeth clench. It’s a bold move to come after us in broad daylight.
She frowns, pacing between the bed and the dresser. All at once, she pauses, eyes bright. “The slope. We can ski to the foot of the mountain.”
Shaking my head, I run my hand through my hair. “In what? Our underwear?”
“I have friends in the shop downstairs. They’ll give us everything we need. Trust me. This will work. It’s our best bet.”
She leads me down the staff stairs to the kitchen, weaving through the employee hallway until we reach a room stacked with outdoor gear. Minutes later, we’re suited up.
"If this goes sideways, we’re dead." My boots click into the bindings. "You better be damn sure."
My lover winks. "For chrissakes, stop whining and keep up, Wildlife."
Long blue shadows make it difficult to see the ice, but the intermediate incline isn’t too hard to navigate.
Smiling, I relax, until a shot cracks the air. Snow explodes inches from my boot, spraying ice shards into my face. My heart in my throat, I plant my poles, vault toward Kelly and topple her into the bank. These terrorists will never let us leave the mountain alive.
Legs splayed, we dig in our edges as we crawl into the pines. When a second round echoes, bark flies over our heads. Hesitating, I try to formulate a plan.
The undaunted Vermonter pushes forward. “There’s another way. Follow me.”
Ducking under the trees, my ski bottoms scrape rock as I slide between stumps. Finally, we burst into a clearing.
Oh crap. My stomach lurches. Below, a steep cliff looms, more like a graveyard of powder-covered boulders intertwined with icy troughs.
Grinning, my border guard launches over the precipice. Knees flex, skis turn, and seconds later, she’s gone from view.
Somewhere up the hill, a snowcat buzzes. A chill runs down my spine. If that mother catches up with us, they won’t find our bodies until spring.
More of a snowplow-slash-survival skier, I travel in her wake. Halfway down, I wipe-out for the third time. Ice scrapes mycheek. My ribs ache from the impact. Spitting out the frozen white stuff, I struggle to my feet and consider sliding the rest of the way on my ass.
Dammit. A fresh spurt of gunfire dispels that notion.
“Psst. Over here!” In the trees, Kelly motions me over. I scramble toward her, break off a pine bough and sweep away our marks.
Finally—hallelujah—a bunny trail where we trace the winding, tree-lined path to the bottom. No more gunmen.
For now.Woo hoo.
Chapter 29
Kelly
My friend from the rental shop waits for us in the ski area’s parking lot. We quickly stash our skis and poles in the back of her rusty red pickup, then hop in the front.
“Where we off to?” The fiftyish woman creases her brows, wanting answers, but anything we might say could put her in danger.
“Enterprise.” By way of explanation, I turn to Hunt. “It’s the closest rental place.”
Thirty minutes later, with the Honda paperwork between us, I drive down the mountain.
Jaw clenched, gun ready, the silent G-man watches out the back window.
“How long before they find us?” My foot itches to lower to the floor, but we’re already fishtailing.
While I struggle to keep the new CR-V on the road, he twists in his seat. “Not long.”
