Heart pounding, I pose the question I’m not sure I want answered. “Are they helping the Iranians or working against them?”
“No clue.” Jaw clenched, he copy-pastes the locations into Google Maps while I look on. New York City. LA. Chicago.
Back on the spreadsheet, he reveals a hidden column. “Oh shit. These dates are this week.”
OhmuhGod, ohmuhGod, ohmuhGod.Throat tight, my heart slams so hard, my ears start ringing. Ricin. FBI agents. Iranians. Millions of deaths.
While I clutch onto his forearm, his stormy eyes snap to mine. “We need to send this. Think, Kell. How?”
“We might get a signal at the summit.”It’s a crap shoot, but hey, we have to try.
“How far?” No question, he’s already calculated our odds of survival.
“No more than a mile. In the summer, there’s a decent path. Now?” Picturing the treacherously steep trail, I shake my head.
The veins in his neck throb while he nods. “Let’s get some shuteye. We move out at dawn.”
Chapter 32
Hunt
On my side, I pull her warm body into my chest, my morning wood pressing her sweet ass. Sorry dude, you’ll have to wait.
Sliding out from under her, I scrape the frost off the window. Outside, the falling flakes have turned to sleet. The cabin walls no longer rattle from the wind. While still dark, we’re not hidden by the thick fog hanging over the ground.
Ah, shit. Our chimney smoke will act as a lighthouse for the terrorists. “Babe, we need to move. Fast.”
When I lift the covers to playfully pat her behind, my cock twitches, ignoring my earlier command.Yo, dude, focus. Wulf needs Dante’s data.
Moaning, my lover opens her eyes, then gives me an appreciative once-over.
Hell, I’d love to go back to bed, but my itchy skin tells me we’re in danger.“When you’re ready, we’ll make a trip to the outhouse. From now on, we don’t go anywhere alone.”
Soon, we trudge through the thigh-high snowfall. She hisses as we pass her boss, but there’s nothing we can do. He’s dead and if we don’t move faster, we’ll be joining him.
She adjusts the rifle straps over her shoulders. Her snowshoes are fashioned from fishing rods, poles, and pine boughs. I wear Dante’s.
In places, six-foot banks of white stuff bar our path. Conversely, there are areas where the gusts have blown the drifts clear. Despite the cold, I’m covered in sweat when we pause at the first clearing. Standing at the ten-story sheer cliff, I gasp at the miniature lake, ski slopes, and farms below.
At any other time, I’d stop to admire the view. Now, all I want is a satellite signal.
Shit, still nothing.“How much further to the top?”
“We’re about halfway.” Her eyelashes lift as her long neck cranes toward the peak.
Oh fuck.A red laser dot?
As it wobbles on her jacket, the pit of my stomach churns. Arms out, I spring. As I flip to protect her, a shot echoes. Bark explodes.
“Move, move, move!” Head blanketed in snowflakes, adrenaline speeding through my veins, we crab crawl to a boulder.
I can’t believe I almost lost her. “You okay?”
“Yeah, fine. Mostly pissed.” Her no-nonsense tone sets me at ease, making it easier to do my job.
My scope pressed to my eye socket, I inch forward on my belly toward the precipice. A moment later, the snowstorm shifts in the valley. I adjust the lens until the sniper’s in my crosshairs.Gotcha.
“Wind, babe?”
