“You wouldn’t do it. Wouldn’t promise.” She’d been so close to falling apart that day.
Months ago, Angel Smith had arrived in Antarctica, alone and directionless.
But, man, did riding the razor edge of death change a girl’s priorities.
These last two weeks had boiled her life down to exactly one thing: getting their asses to Volkov Station.
No more aimless soul-searching for Angel. Today, she’d drag this man to safety. Or die in the process.
“I’m not leaving you, ding-dong. So it’s your choice. We stay here and hang out around this gorgeous snowmobile until we expire.” Shaky breath in. “Together.” She forced a smile. “Kinda fun, right?”
His long, low “mmmm” was a definite no.
“Then we finish this. Together.”
She started to move when he held her back. “You drive…” He coughed, the sound painful. Christ, had Sampson’s beating done something to his insides? “A mean bargain…lady.”
With a remarkable show of strength, Ford stood, swayed for a few seconds before putting his good arm around her, and took the first step.
He walked, she hopped, using him and her ski pole for balance, and together, they hobbled slowly across the smooth, creaking ice, hauling the virus behind them.
Chapter 46
The sun was sinking when something appeared on the horizon. An anomaly.
Coop blinked.Couldn’t be.He didn’t let himself hope.
He had at least one broken rib, probably a concussion, something very wrong with his lungs, and a bullet hole in his shoulder.
With every exhale, the air forced from his too-heavy chest had to pass through a tight, dry throat before starting over again. The inhales were the worst, a million sharp claws carving themselves a new path. Over and over again, step by dragging step.
But he could do it. Or Angel could at least. He’d have laughed right now if he could—at himself—for not believing in her. The strongest person he’d met in his life.
As another hour passed, marked by the constant stomp-hop of their progress across the ice, the shape turned into a building. It wasn’t until they were close enough to make out details that he finally let himself believe.
Volkov. They’d made it.
Or he was hallucinating. Angel stopped and looked up at him. To anyone else, her expression would be just a blank ski mask, but he knew her like he’d never known another person, couldfeelthe triumph running through her.
“See?” she croaked. “Told you we’d make it.”
“Yeah you did.” He sounded absolutely wasted.
It was nothing like the bustling research station he remembered, but then it was supposedly closed for the winter, right? No, he remembered, they were doing renovations or something, which was confirmed by the exhaust puffing up into the air.
They arrived at the first building—a small, boxy metal structure, rougher-looking than anything at Burke-Ruhe. And much older.
Slowly, painfully, they pulled open the door and peered inside. A hangar, filled with a silent fleet of work vehicles. Right. Right, he remembered this. Jameson would never let his babies rust out like this.
They turned, as awkward and slow as a three-legged beast. Fuck, his head hurt.
“Which—”
“There.” Coop couldn’t do more than whisper the words and lift his chin. “Big one. Stilts.”
At the door to the main building, he started to collapse.
“Come on, Ford. Almost there. Stay with me. Not yet.” She sounded like hell, her voice rough as granite. “Come on!” She slid her arm around his waist and moved him to the wall.
