A high-pitched, crooning howl pierced the fog, joined by several other animal voices and ending with a series of yips.
“The coyotes aren’t helping either,” Artie grumbled. “We’re supposed to walk directly west, right?”
“Right.” Derek released the breath he’d been holding. It was nice to have Artie there, breaking the uneasy eeriness with her practical questions. “George will use the radio to give us a shout when we reach the western border of our quadrant. Then we’ll head south fifty feet before going east, searching the next strip of our section.”
“Got it.” She started walking, and Derek followed. Although he tried to keep his attention focused, calling out the girls’ names every so often, he couldn’t help but notice that Artie’s pants cupped her ass in a very distracting way. It didn’t help that her down jacket was not long enough to fall much past her waist. Shit. Now was not the time. He jerked his gaze off her posterior for the hundredth time and scoured the area for any hints of the kids.
It had been easier to look for Maya and Zoe by the shore, where the scrub and small rocks didn’t provide any kind of concealment. Now, it seemed like every tree could hide a small body, and the wind competed with him in volume each time he tried to yell for the girls.
He and Artie scrambled over a couple of good-size boulders before stopping abruptly. A rocky crevice divided the path like a wedge.
“Which way?” Artie shouted over the growing wind, tipping her face to protect it from the ice and dirt particles carried in the gusts.
Turning so his back was to the wind, Derek pulled his radio off his belt and held it close to his face. When they’d divided into groups, everyone had turned their portables to the channel dedicated to the search.
“Warner to Holloway.”
Instead of George, the dispatcher answered. “Unit calling, you’re unreadable.”
Mentally swearing at the wind, Derek hunched his shoulders, trying to shelter the radio as much as possible. Artie shuffled to stand in front of him, so close that Derek had to clear his throat before he could try talking on the radio again.
“Warner to Holloway!”
“Holloway,” George’s raspy bass responded, making Derek’s shoulders dip in relief.
“There’s a ravine in our path. Do you want us to go around it to the north or south?” Without climbing equipment, there was no way they could go directly through. They’d need to shift fifty feet either north or south before they could head west again.
The radio was silent for a moment, and Derek prayed that George had been able to understand the question. To his relief, the radio crackled before George’s clipped, “South.”
“Copy.”
As they moved left to skirt the yawning hole, Derek saw Artie shoot an anxious glance toward the direction of the rest of their group. He couldn’t blame her. It felt wrong to be moving away from their team, but they weren’t reallythatfar apart. It was just the low-lying clouds and the wind and those damn coyotes that were making it seem as if he and Artie were the only two people left alive.
* * *
The snow started, icy flakes peppering Derek’s face. Twisting away from the blasting wind, he turned to check on Artie. She was obviously fighting to keep her head up so she could look for the girls, despite the pummeling ice crystals. He’d never seen her look so miserable.
Impulsively wrapping an arm around her shoulders, Derek curled her in so she faced his chest with only a bare inch separating them. It was unnervingly too close and too far at the same time. She tilted her face to give him a questioning look.
“Let’s give it a minute. Maybe the wind will settle down.” He took a couple of steps back until they were semi-sheltered by the broad, twisted trunk of a bristlecone pine.
“But we need to keep looking,” she protested, trying to crane her neck to see over her shoulder. An especially fierce gust shot tiny pellets of snow at them, and she quickly turned back to bury her face in Derek’s neck.
He sighed. It was nice having her pressed against him…really nice. Her tall body was a perfect fit to his, with the top of her head not quite reaching his chin. “We can’t find the girls if we’re getting smacked in the eyeballs with snowflakes.”
Her small laugh puffed against his throat, sending a rush of pleasure across his skin. Flushing with heat, he fought the urge to fidget.
“Fine. But just for a few minutes.”
“Just until this wind goes from sixty miles an hour to something more reasonable. Like fifty-five.” Artie rewarded his lame joke with another shiver-inducing laugh. Since she seemed okay with using him for a wind block, he inched a little closer and wrapped his other arm around her back. Although he’d braced for her reaction, half-expecting her to shove him away, she didn’t seem to mind. Instead, she settled more securely against him.
It was like the past four years hadn’t happened. The press of Artie’s body against his, even with the multiple layers of clothes separating them, brought back all the times he’d held her. His world had revolved around Artie—when he wasn’t with her, he was thinking of her or dreaming of her. Until the day he’d sent her away.
“What happened between you and Randy?”
She stiffened and pulled away. “We should look for the girls.”
He forced himself to let her go. Each time, it got harder.
