Chapter Nine

“Wake up, Aunt Allison.”

A cold hand shook Allison on the shoulder and she rolled onto her back.

“The portable radio says there isn’t any school today.”

She pushed the sleeping bag away from her face and peered at her nephew through sand-laden eyes. Hadn’t she fallen asleep only a few minutes ago? What was Mitchell doing up so early?

“Come on. Get up. We can make a snow-fort today.”

She pulled her arm free and looked at her watch. “What time is it?”

“Six-thirty.” Mitchell gave her a grin.

She groaned. “Why do you get up so early when there’s no school, but when you do have school, I have to drag you out of bed?”

“I dunno. I figured it was okay to get up since Sloan’s awake.”

Sloan.

She sat up. How could she have forgotten about him? Especially since she’d been dodging him in her dreams all night.

“Hey, sleeping beauty, the bathroom’s yours.” Sloan walked into the living room, his damp hair smoothed down instead of the messy style he seemed to favor. Like last night, he wore only his jeans. His naked torso was even more impressive in daylight, the tattoo-covered scar just below his collarbone looking like a badge of honor. “You took a cold shower?” The air of familiarity sent a tingle to jump-start Allison’s heart.

“Was that a problem?”

“No. It’s just that…I didn’t expect… Never mind.” She dragged her gaze from his chest. She hoped a cold shower would drown the fire burning inside her.

****

Sloan watched Allison rush out of the room as if the shower waiting for her was warm instead of cold. He walked to the fireplace to put on another log. The power hadn’t returned and the house definitely felt colder. Seeing his coworker in a form-fitting tank top and hip-hugging sweat pants took some of the chill out of the air. Her usual lab coat was so unflattering. Remembering how she looked yesterday—what she revealed after removing those coveralls. Not to mention what almost happened last night. He’d come very close to—

“What kind of cereal do you want?” Mitch’s question interrupted Sloan’s wayward thoughts. Just in time. He was skating on thin ice to even consider Allison anything more than a coworker, and that was not going to help the investigation. Or his libido.

“What do you have?” Sloan asked his pint-sized conscience while reaching for his shirt and putting it on.

Mitch walked around the center island with three boxes in his arms. “We usually only have healthy stuff, because Dad says Mom’s a granola bar. I don’t know what that means. It sounds like she’s made of oatmeal or something. Anyway, he said while they were on the cruise, I could have some good cereal.” Mitch looked over the top of the boxes to read. “We have cornflakes, honey-nut oat rounds and Frooty-Os.”

“Well, I’m a Frooty-Os kinda of guy, how about you?”

Mitch grinned. “Me, too.” He hurried back into the kitchen.

Sloan finished dressing and then followed Mitch through the kitchen to the back porch.

Mitch took a container of milk from the cooler where they had stored the contents of the refrigerator overnight.

“Is it still cold?” Sloan glanced over the kid’s shoulder.

Mitch felt the sides and nodded. “But we’d better put the cooler outside so the food won’t spoil. We should probably empty the freezer into the other coolers, too.”

“Your aunt mentioned we might need to do that. Do you want some help?”

“Naw. I can do it.”

Sloan admired Mitch’s self-reliance. He supposed kids learned to do a lot on their own when living in a remote location like Thunder Valley. Personally, he still felt a bit isolated, even with a sexy brunette and a redheaded minor for company. He hoped they could be on the way to sunny California sometime today. Once he was back on the job, he’d be able to resist temptation.

Last night he’d found himself on a very slippery slope. There was a moment he’d been ready to throw decency to the wind. Bury his conscience in a snowbank while he took pleasure in Allison’s warmth. Fortunately, he came to his senses and climbed into his sleeping bag alone. Sleep had been a long time coming.

Today, he had a fresh start, and would keep his hands to himself. Allison was a coworker and technically, they were on the clock.

Which reminded him…

He walked over to the phone and lifted the receiver. The dial tone buzzed sweetly in his ear.

“I’m going to report in,” he said to Mitch, although he didn’t know why the boy would care. Mitch was busy loading all the food into a large cooler.

He dialed Northstar’s number and asked for O’Neal.

He endured the director’s displeasure as he told their boss about the delay caused by the storm and power outage. Sloan understood O’Neal’s frustration but there wasn’t much he could do about it. He explained that Allison would finish the trace program once the power was back on. They’d be on the way to L.A. as soon as they could leave the house.

“I don’t care about the trace,” O’Neal exploded. “You get her to California as soon as you can. Tom’s identified the hacker.”

“Who is it?” There was a long pause that chilled Sloan’s blood.

“Allison.” O’Neal paused as though he couldn’t believe it himself. “Allison is the hacker.”

Sloan’s knees locked in stunned silence. Was this some kind of joke? Had Tom been counting too many pocket protectors? No. This was no laughing matter. O’Neal was up to his neck fending off disgruntled clients, pending lawsuits, and media hounds. Still, there was no way Allison could be the person causing this much chaos.

“Sloan, are you there?” O’Neal’s voice prodded him. “Did you hear me?”

“I’m here. I just don’t believe what you said. Why does Tom think—” Sloan looked over at Mitch, not wanting to finish his sentence.

“There was another breach last night. Tom swears it has Allison’s signature all over it.”

“That’s not possible. The power was out,” Sloan objected. “I was with her. All night,” he added in a forced whisper. “What time did all this happen?”

“Tom got the alert around eleven our time.”

“Hold on.” Sloan covered the phone with his hand and turned to Mitch. “What time did the power go out last night?”

Mitch’s forehead scrunched. “I think around eight o’clock.” He shrugged. “I’m not sure.”

Sloan did a quick calculation on the time zone differences and spoke to O’Neal. “The alert would have happened around nine p.m. here. We lost power around eight. So it couldn’t have been Allison.”

“I don’t understand the technical jargon.” O’Neal growled under his breath. “But apparently the signal bounced from Idaho to L.A., before hitting our office. Delays were built into the broadcast. Tom says those delays are just like a code Allison created for another case about five months ago.”

Sloan didn’t want to believe it. However, he had to concede that O’Neal wouldn’t make the claim lightly, or without proof. Still, if Allison was involved, how did she manage to do it while he was in the same room? Something was definitely out of kilter. He wanted to clear up this mystery as much as O’Neal, but not by blaming Allison. “How do you want me to proceed?”

“I don’t want you to let on that we know she’s the hacker. Let her think we’re still trying to catch the guy. If she won’t leave the nephew, bring him to L.A., too. I want to see her endgame. I want to know why she did this. If she’s working with someone, I want to know who.”

“Understood.” Sloan would do as asked, but he didn’t like it. Regardless of the evidence O’Neal presented, it seemed completely out of character for Allison to sabotage Northstar.

“Is everything okay?” Mitch looked over as Sloan hung up the phone.

No, everything was not okay. But he couldn’t tell an innocent nine-year-old that his aunt was suspected of breaking the law and ruining her employer.

All that talk last night about Bushido—honor, truth, and loyalty—was it just nonsense for his benefit? He hadn’t thought so at the time. What about the shooting? She didn’t come right out and say it, but he knew her injury had something to do with her own personal code of conduct.

Sloan still hadn’t answered Mitch’s question and found the silence troubling. He didn’t want to lie. Kids noticed that sort of thing. He remembered the lies his father had told him, thinking Sloan was too young to figure it out. Except Sloan had spotted the lies, just as Mitch would.

He gave the boy a reassuring smile. “Some of the news isn’t good, but we appear to have some more leads.”

“Maybe the roads will be plowed today and you can get out of here.” Mitch gave him an encouraging smile.

“I certainly hope so.” Sloan walked over to Mitch. “Here, let me give you a hand.”

Together they finished moving the contents of the freezer into coolers and hauled them to the back porch. They walked back into the kitchen just as Allison appeared.

She sparkled. Her cheeks glowed pink as though they had been scrubbed with fresh snow. Stray curls escaped the loose braid down her back and caressed her face.

“I should leave you two alone more often.” She gestured to the coolers. “Look at all the chores you’ve done.”

“It was mostly Mitch.” Sloan patted the kid’s shoulder.

Mitch beamed at the praise and Allison gave her nephew a hug. “Thank you.”

Sloan tried to reconcile the picture of this loving woman against the ruthless attacks on Northstar. He couldn’t. His gut told him something was off, but O’Neal had the facts—Sloan didn’t. He owed it to the director to find the truth. No matter where this twisted journey led, he would do his damnedest to stay objective.

****

After breakfast, Sloan stirred the coals in the fireplace, prepping it for another log. The thought of Allison as the hacker weighed heavily on his mind. Tom’s evidence against her had to be wrong. A simple explanation would clear up the misunderstanding if only O’Neal wasn’t so adamant about not tipping their hand. The fallout from all the press releases made the director anxious, almost paranoid. Sloan recalled when he’d been in O’Neal’s office before he left for Idaho. He’d never seen the man in such turmoil.

Sloan didn’t like it, but was bound by his commitment not to say anything. Except he wouldn’t let it keep him from discovering the truth. He’d simply find it without saying anything to Allison.

Mitch rushed into the room as Sloan added a log to the fire. “It’s stopped snowing. Come and see.”

Sloan followed Mitch into the kitchen and looked out the window.

Like something out of a storybook fantasy, snow lay in mounds of pristine white as far as the eye could see. In the yard, pine trees bowed under the heavy, white layers. Sunlight broke through dark clouds, pushing them over the mountains. A brilliant blue sky edged in, bringing with it the promise of a clear day.

“Let’s go outside. You can wear this.” Mitch held up his father’s snowmobile suit.

Sloan frowned at the outfit.

“Come on. It’ll be fun.” Mitch’s eyebrows rose nearly to his red hairline.

“It probably won’t fit.” Sloan didn’t know if he could find a way out of the boy’s request without hurting his feelings.

“My dad’s almost as tall as you are.” Mitch stood on a chair, holding the suit at the shoulders. “See?”

“I’m not so sure…”

Mitch jiggled the material as though he was coaxing a pet to play. “Please?”

“What am I supposed to do once we’re outside?”

“Well, you have to clean off your car. You can’t drive with snow all over it. I’ll help.”

Sloan conceded the argument. “We need you at our negotiation tables in Washington.”

“Huh?”

“Never mind. Go get your aunt. If I’m going out, she’s coming too.”

Mitch gave him a toothy grin and handed over the snowsuit, then jumped off the chair and hurried out of the kitchen.

Sloan lifted the suit and saw that maybe it would fit. He sighed and draped it over the back of the chair.

Getting a little cold would be a small price to pay to keep his commitment to O’Neal. With Allison outside, he could keep an eye on her. She wouldn’t be able to turn on that power thingy and work on her computer while he was off playing with Mitch.

She walked into the kitchen as Sloan zipped up the front of the suit over his clothes.

“You’re really going out?” Her tone indicated she couldn’t quite believe it.

Well, he’d show her that he was just as tough as a nine-year-old. “So are you. Bundle up.”

“Did you reach O’Neal? Does he know what’s happened?”

“Yeah. He knows.” More than you realize…

Allison raised her eyebrows. “And?”

“Like Mitch pointed out, I have to clear off my car to drive. Might as well get a head start.” Skirting the real issue wasn’t getting easier.

“I can’t leave for L.A. with the power out. That trace I started last night is almost finished. Once the power comes back on, I’ll upload it to Tom. He’ll have it sooner than I can fly out there and redo all the work.”

“Then I’ll stay here.”

Allison’s eyes narrowed. “O’Neal won’t like that. You should go ahead and I’ll send the trace as soon as I can. Then I’ll catch a later flight.”

“It won’t matter until the roads are plowed.” He still couldn’t wrap his mind around Allison as a traitor. “Have you got snow boots that’ll fit me?”

She looked as if she might argue, then shrugged. “Yeah, we have boots.”

Once outside, Sloan felt catapulted into a winter wonderland. The cold hit him first. Even wearing the snowmobile suit and a borrowed hat, the icy air found a way inside his clothes. And then he smelled it.

Winter.

Not the heavy odors of January in the city, but crisp, clean air that smelled almost sweet. A whiff of damp pine and sage blended with the tangy scent of smoke from the fireplace. And the blinding glare… Sloan held a gloved hand to shield his eyes as he acclimated to the sun’s reflection off the snow.

“I think I can find spare sunglasses in the house.” Allison turned to go back inside.

“I have a pair in the car.” His reply stopped her from leaving.

“I’ll get the broom to clear off your car.” Mitch ran in the direction of the porch.

They spent the next few minutes clearing off Sloan’s rental while Mitch rambled on about how much nicer Sloan’s car was than his mom’s little sedan.

Once Sloan donned his sunglasses he’d left in the car, the wonderland took on a different appearance. He stared in awe at the horizon and marveled at the rugged, snow-covered skyline surrounding the gentle valley. This place was raw and wild with open splendor. Picture postcards with Christmas greetings didn’t even come close. He understood now why Allison chose to return home for her vacation.

What he didn’t understand was her desire to leave in the first place. Last night’s conversation echoed back to him. He guessed Allison needed to close herself off. Her survivor’s guilt must go deeper than he first suspected.

He glanced at her, decked out in a bright yellow winter coat over tan snow pants. She wasn’t wearing a cap, but had covered her ears with a red, fleece headband. Against the snowy backdrop, she looked like a model for a winter-wear catalog. His pulse quickened when she looked his direction and he no longer felt cold.

She walked over and handed him a snow shovel. “Start at that end, and I’ll start here. We’ll meet in the middle.”

He lifted an eyebrow at her words. Her cheeks grew pink. She turned quickly and headed to the other end of the sidewalk.

‘We’ll meet in the middle.’ Now there was a pleasant thought. He wondered if there could be a middle ground with Allison. He still believed she was an all-or-nothing sort of person.

For the next fifteen minutes, Sloan shoveled, working his way toward Allison.

“Snowman!” Mitch shouted across the yard.

Sloan stopped shoveling and watched Mitch start a palm-sized snowball and roll it across the virgin, white yard. It grew with each rotation, collecting more and more snow until it was almost the height of Mitch’s waist.

The boy pushed and shoved until he couldn’t move the snowball any more. “Sloan! Come and help me.”

Sloan picked up his last shovelful of snow and tossed it off the sidewalk, then planted the shovel in the snowbank before joining Mitch in the middle of the yard. Allison started another ball to add to the snowman.

The activity took Sloan’s mind off the case, and the fact his suspect was possibly standing right next to him—a suspect he enjoyed watching interact with her nephew.

They dug near the edge of the driveway to find stones for the snowman’s mouth and eyes. Allison broke off a twig from a nearby bush for the nose. Mitch found longer branches for the arms. By the time they were finished, Sloan was grinning at the silly-looking fat man with a dirty face and skinny limbs. But it was Allison’s laughter, as clear and refreshing as the pristine snow that warmed his soul.

By lunchtime, the plows still hadn’t made it down the long side road and the power wasn’t restored yet. After eating cold sandwiches, Allison led Mitch and Sloan to a small hill behind the house that she and her sister used to sled on when they were little girls.

Although it wasn’t very tall, trudging up hill, pulling the smooth-bottomed sleds through nearly waist-deep snow, was a workout. Sloan was pleasantly surprised at how much fun he had sliding to the bottom.

Mitch had a clever idea to pile up the snow halfway down the hill to build a jump to catch some air. Sloan chuckled at the boy’s enthusiasm and worked alongside Mitch to build the jump.

“The roads aren’t cleared off yet,” Allison warned. “If you break an arm flying over that thing, we can’t get you to a doctor.”

“I’m not gonna break my arm, Aunt Allison. Don’t be such a sissy.” Mitch scrunched his nose.

“Well, she is a girl.” Sloan gave the kid a nudge with his elbow.

Mitch started to laugh. “Yeah, you’re right. I guess she can’t help it.”

Allison picked up a handful of snow, shaped it into a ball and threw it. Mitch ducked and the snowball splattered squarely on Sloan’s chest. Stunned, he looked down at his snowsuit and then at Allison. He couldn’t believe she’d hit him!

She burst out laughing. “You should see your face.” She was barely able to catch her breath.

A wicked thought flashed through Sloan’s mind as he whispered in Mitch’s ear. “Time to get even.”

“Yeah,” Mitch shouted. “Boys against girls.”

The war was on.

Allison scrambled toward the top of the hill to take advantage of higher ground. But forced to throw with her left arm, she didn’t move too far away.

Sloan and Mitch had the mound of snow they’d built for the jump to hide behind, which leveled the battlefield. Mitch stocked an arsenal of snowballs for Sloan to throw, while Allison could only fire a single shot at a time. She was hopelessly outgunned.

After several minutes, all three were covered in white. Laughter sparkled through the air like snow crystals captured in the sun.

Sloan instructed Mitch to keep throwing snowballs while he worked his way uphill on Allison’s left flank.

Not able to keep up with two attacking fronts, she focused on Sloan, throwing snowball after snowball as fast as she could slap them together.

Suddenly, he lunged at her, capturing her around the waist. They toppled to the soft ground and rolled. The hill’s gravity pulled them together as they rolled several feet and stopped just above Mitch’s jump.

Sloan landed on top of Allison. Somewhere in the tumble, he’d lost his sunglasses. He stared into her upturned face. Her hair had picked up snow and was sticking to her cheeks. He tried to move a strand, but his gloves dropped fluffy mounds onto her cheeks.

He took off a glove and brushed the snow and hair away. Her skin was warm. Droplets clung to her eyelashes as she stared at him. The length of her body fit perfectly beneath him. Through layers of winter clothes, an undeniable arousal stirred.

His face was inches from hers. Their breaths mingled in the cold air, creating miniature clouds of steam. The laughter in her eyes faded, replaced by a deep, blue flame summoning him to the depths of her soul. He lowered his head—just another centimeter…

A loud crack came from the side of the house.

Sloan pulled back and glanced around. “What was that?”

Allison blinked. “It sounded like a chunk of ice falling off the eaves.”

His eyes narrowed, but he didn’t move off her.

“We won!” Mitch bounded toward them from the bottom of the hill.

Allison shifted, and his gaze dropped once again to her lips. Even though she looked uncertain, she didn’t push him away. Instead, her breathing was shallow and quick as she continued to stare into his eyes.

At that moment, Sloan realized the Devil was a computer geek.