Carlie didn’t say one word to Sean during dinner about what she’d discovered in her backpack. She put food in her mouth and chewed as if on autopilot. But from the anger glittering in her eyes, the defiant set of her chin and the rigid set of her shoulders, he concluded that she knew he’d lied to her.
She had a fire started in the fireplace when he joined her. But the flames couldn’t match the furious blaze in her eyes. “We aren’t married, are we?”
Sean straddled a chair opposite her. Since the moment Andrew had mentioned her luggage, he’d known this moment was coming. While he could have gone through her things and removed the identification she must have found, he’d refused to compound his lie with additional deceptions.
Jackson would have been disappointed in Sean. The old prospector hadn’t approved of lying or taking advantage of women.
And Sean felt even guiltier as he recalled Bill’s occasional letter. The man had adored his wife and would have been horrified to know that his Alaskan friend had deceived the woman he’d held in such high esteem.
Carlie Myer was no fool. Over the past few days, he’d come to respect her determination in the face of danger. She’d defended him against Roger. She’d eased his harsh feelings over Sally’s seeming betrayal of Jackson’s memory. She’d tried to save him from a deadly wire strung in their path, and he’d long since stopped thinking of her as a murder suspect.
With surprise, he realized that she’d become his partner in searching for Jackson’s murderer. He no longer felt it necessary to keep her with him under false pretenses. She deserved the truth.
But coming clean was more difficult than he expected. He didn’t want to lose her trust. Didn’t want to watch her respect for him wither to cold disgust. She sat on the couch with her legs curled beneath her, looking at him warily through long, dark lashes.
He chose his words carefully. “About two years ago, you married my best friend, Bill Myer. You and I’d never met until I found you next to Jackson’s body.”
“Am I still married?”
He read the anguish in her eyes and cursed himself for putting her through more uncertainty. “You’re a widow. Last year, Bill died in an automobile accident. You still don’t remember?”
She ignored his question and kept her tone reasonable, but an edge of anger crept in. “Do you know why I came to Alaska?”
“To see me. I assumed you wanted to check on your investment.”
She rubbed her palms on her thighs. “What investment?”
“Bill won a small share in the mine from Tyler’s father during a poker game.”
He thought she would ask how much her share was worth or maybe how much income she would receive, but she didn’t question him about money. She had no apparent interest in the mine or her inheritance.
“Why did you tell me we are married?”
“I didn’t tell you, I told the men.” She opened her mouth to protest and he continued, “But I’m splitting hairs. The truth is…”
“What?”
“Complicated.”
He leaned forward, wishing he could find the right words to make the past go away. He’d like the opportunity to start fresh, but at least he’d try to undo the mess he’d made. “When I found Jackson, I thought you were dead and had murdered him. You had a knife in your hand, his blood on your sleeve. You awakened and attacked me.”
Her eyes widened. “I did?”
“Before you passed out, you told me your name and I knew you were Bill’s wife.”
“Then you started to have doubts about whether I killed Jackson?”
He nodded, appreciating the logical way her mind worked. Maybe she would accept his explanation. “You were a cop. And I knew Bill well enough to know he was straight-arrow. He wouldn’t have married a murderer.”
“But you couldn’t be sure?”
Her fingers drummed impatiently and he saw that beneath her calm, a storm brewed. He knew that as surely as he knew the difference between fox and bear tracks. Her strong face and indignant eyes told the real story. Even as he tried to assess her, she was sizing him up with a cop’s focused intensity and a woman’s temper.
He hoped she would understand that he’d acted reasonably once she had all the facts. “I’d already told Marvin over the radio that you were the killer. The men were too angry to think clearly, and I didn’t want more violence. You had amnesia and couldn’t defend yourself. It occurred to me that whoever killed Jackson might have set you up to take the blame. We all needed time to think.”
“But why did you lie about us?”
“Those men respect me. While they might tear a stranger limb from limb, they’d give my wife the benefit of the doubt.” He paused, no more deceptions. “I also wanted to keep you where I could watch you.”
“Why?”
He studied the bold, sculpted planes of her face, her gold hair falling strikingly around her shoulders. The combination of vulnerability and vitality in her expression made it hard for him to look away. He ached to take her into his arms, smooth the worried frown between her delicately arched eyebrows, but she wanted his explanation. When he finished, she might not want him at all. Still, he tried to make her see his reasons.
“I knew if you hadn’t killed Jackson, you might be in danger. The best way to protect you was to keep you with me. And after the attempts on your life, it turned out I was right.”
Her eyes searched his, weighing his explanation, but underneath the calm, fury smoldered. “You’ve explained why you lied to the men, but why didn’t you tell me the truth?”
“Would you have moved in with a stranger?” She raised her chin and squared her shoulders. “The decision was mine to make.”
Fury at his deception shot from her eyes. For a moment he regretted giving her gun back to her, afraid she might pull it on him. But she had too much self-control. She let out a sigh and closed her eyes as if she could shut him out.
Shoving to his feet, he walked to the sofa. She opened her eyes as he sat beside her and took her hand. “If I’d known you as well as I do now, I would have been certain you’d make the right decision.”
“Pul—ease.” She jerked away from him and paced from the fireplace to the hall. “Don’t try and soften me up with flattery.”
He should have known better. “You were a stranger. You almost left the cabin when you learned I didn’t have a phone. I wanted to keep Bill’s widow safe.”
Light from the fire reflected off her tanned skin, taut with anger. Hurt mixed with rage and shook her voice. “You shouldn’t have lied to me.”
“If I had to do it all over again, with the facts I have now, I wouldn’t have. I wanted to protect you.”
She spun on her heel, fisted her hands on her hips. “Damn you, I can protect myself. You had no right to deceive me.”
He stood and reached for her hand. “I’m sorry.”
She avoided his touch and pointed a finger at his chest. “Sorry doesn’t make up for your lies. Sorry doesn’t make up for the hurt I felt in believing my own husband could think me capable of murder. Sorry doesn’t make up for how you withdrew every time I touched you. No wonder you acted like you were made of stone. We were strangers. And that’s how you treated me.”
“We were strangers—”
She tightened her fingers in a reflexive movement, her too-bright eyes flashing up at him. “But I thought we were married. Did it ever occur to you how I felt when you rejected your wife? When you apologized for kissing me?”
The thought of hurting her made nausea rise hot and bitter in his throat. Had he done more harm than he’d imagined? He recalled all the times she’d tried to touch him and how he’d pulled away, thinking he was being noble not to take advantage of her. And every time he’d hurt her.
While she’d required such intimacies from her husband—he’d acted like a stranger. Because of his lie, she’d expected more from him. When he gave her what she wanted on a reckless whim, giving in to the urge to touch the curve of her cheek, exploring the smooth, silky texture of her skin, tasting her lush lips, she’d responded ardently. And after he’d finally gone and kissed her, he’d told her it was a mistake.
He’d already apologized once and was at a loss what to do. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Then this conversation is over.” She walked into the bedroom, her head high, closing the door quietly behind her.
A log in the fireplace shifted and hissed, but he still heard the harsh click as she turned the lock.
CARLIE TOSSED THE COVERS off and stretched the kink out of her neck. Although Sean’s alarm clock read only five-thirty, she couldn’t sleep. She’d hoped her memories would return with Sean’s explanation, but they hadn’t. Instead she’d gone over and over their conversation until she wanted to scream.
How dare he twist her into knots? When he’d finally kissed her, she did what she’d wanted to do for so long, skim her fingers through his dark hair and along his hard jawbone. From the moment he’d placed his lips on hers, his dark eyes hot with promise, she’d been breathless with unleashed longing and intense excitement. As long as she lived she’d never forget his fevered and hungry look, their first hot kiss, the wild excitement sparking between them making his rejection afterward all the more devastating. Damn him.
While her anger at Sean had stabbed like a hot poker in her heart, she’d watched him carefully last night. Despite his stillness, despite his stoic expression, she’d seen true regret in his eyes. After she’d accused him of treating her like a stranger, he hadn’t made excuses. Instead quiet shock reflected in his eyes, as if he’d never considered the emotional consequences of his lies.
What he didn’t know, couldn’t know, was that he’d hurt her badly because she’d wanted more from him than a working partnership. While she couldn’t recall Bill Myer, the man she had married, she’d carried expectations about marriage into her relationship with Sean. She’d looked upon him as a husband, wanting his touch. Needing his trust.
And he’d given her misery and heartache. So now all she had to do was stop thinking of him as her husband. Forget about her expectancy of intimacy. Move on with her investigation without the hindrance of emotional baggage.
She would adjust. Adapt. Ignore the loss that had peeled away her protective shell and left her nerves raw. Showering and dressing quietly, she took her gun from under her pillow and holstered the weapon at her ankle. A hike up the mountain would help rid her of plaguing tension and let her face her situation from a new perspective.
Hoping the murder scene might provide a clue she’d overlooked before, she unlocked the bedroom door, still carrying her shoes so she wouldn’t wake Sean, who slept on the couch, his back to her. Barely daring to breathe for fear of waking him, she slipped on her boots, donned her jacket and slipped out the door.
The sun’s rays hadn’t yet cleared the mountain, but the night sky was lightening to a gray dawn. She shivered, tugged on her gloves and tucked in the ends of her scarf. Refusing to let a few stray snowflakes deter her, she headed up the trail.
Snow crunched under her boots and the brisk pace she set kept her warm. Guilt pricked her that she hadn’t left Sean a note, but she’d needed to be alone with her thoughts. Breathing in the cool air helped chase away the cobwebs left over from her sleepless night.
A half hour later, she passed the steep incline where Sean had saved her from slipping over the edge. She’d been looking down at her feet to maintain her footing on the icy trail, but when she reached a relatively flat spot, she checked the sky. Swirling wet snow blew horizontally across the mountain, engulfing her in an eerie silence of big white flakes.
Going back to Sean’s cabin might be wise. Between her and Kesky lay miles of trackless hills choked with bushy ravines and rolling, hummock-dotted slopes. And the uphill walk to the mine was steeper than she’d recalled.
Spying an overhang where she could get out of the weather, Carlie took a breather. The wind had picked up. Going on up to the Dog Mush no longer seemed such a good idea. While she didn’t think she would lose her way, the chilling wind and snow began to take a toll.
While she stopped to rest, her body heat cooled. Just about to turn back, Carlie heard a gunshot. Automatically, she dropped to the snow and pulled her gun from the ankle holster. Realizing her navy jacket made an ideal target against a while background, she crawled on elbows and knees toward a boulder.
Snow beneath her trembled. For a moment she feared she might be on a huge slab of snow that might break away from the side of the mountain and carry her to her death below.
Amid an eerie stillness, she raised her head and peered into the distance where she thought the shot had been fired from. But in the swirling storm, she couldn’t see much but trees and mountain and snow.
Two more shots fired, echoing across the mountain.
Carlie inched behind the boulder, unsure whether anyone was even shooting at her. The shots hadn’t kicked up any nearby snow. For all she knew, someone was hunting two miles away. But she refused to take chances.
At a strange rumbling overhead, she tilted her head back. The next moment the ground jerked out from under her. Clouds of snow whipped in the air. Earthquake? No, avalanche! She rolled, sliding with the loose snow.
From out of nowhere, Sean appeared, running an awkward zigzag pattern with the grace of a mountain cat over the uneven terrain. “Get up.”
If she stood, she’d make an even better target. Her instinct was to stay low and crawl as fast as she could, aiming her weapon, ready to fire. “Someone’s shooting.”
Sean grabbed her shoulders and yanked her to her feet. “Run.”
“But—”
Another shot echoed. A roar filled her ears. Sean tugged her forward so hard, her feet barely touched the ground. Below, her boots, the snow shifted. The wind picked up. Above them the mountain cracked, the roar louder than thunder.
She glanced over her shoulder and a fear unlike any she’d ever known possessed her. Surging snow and ice hurtled down the mountain, growing, tumbling, cascading over boulders, uprooting trees.
She screamed to be heard above the roar. “Go. Save yourself.”
He squeezed her hand tighter. “Run.” She was running. Her lungs burst with the effort, her gun still clenched in her hand. Her thighs and calves screamed from the pressure she exerted.
Chunks of snow pelted her shoulders and slammed into her back. Rocks and roots and snow rolled beneath her feet. If not for Sean’s strong grip on her hand, she would have fallen long ago.
She peeked up and gasped. They weren’t going to make it. Sean was risking his life to save hers. Adrenaline surged through her, and she yanked her hand from his.
She shoved him forward. “Leave me.”
“Carlie, no!”
She’d broken free of his grip. Her knees buckled. Without Sean to anchor her, she spun, pitching and rolling like a schooner caught in a waterspout. Snow flattened her. And all of a sudden, snow filled her eyes, crammed into her nose and mouth.
Darkness surrounded her.
Snow was under her, over her, to her right and left. She’d been buried alive. Dear God, she couldn’t breathe. And the darkness mauled her.
Clawing with one hand, she struggled hard. The weight of the snow crushed her ribs. Her lungs burned. She wasn’t sure which way was up.
She had to think.
Think.
Sean might be looking for her. She shouted, but the snow muffled her voice. Darkness seared her with a rising panic.
Seconds passed. She had to think.
She didn’t want to die on this frigid mountain where no one would find her until spring. Her fingers tightened reflexively.
She still had her gun.
If she discharged the weapon, Sean might hear her, pinpoint her location, dig her free. But she could shoot him by accident if she first didn’t figure out which way was down.
Carlie brought her free hand to her face and cleared a few inches of snow, creating a hollow area around her hand and face. With her teeth, she pulled off her glove and let it fall, then felt around to see where it had landed, letting gravity tell her which direction was down.
With cold fingers she found the glove. As near as she could tell, up was somewhere over her left shoulder. She aimed the gun to her right and downward and pulled the trigger.
She counted to ten and fired again. At the current rate, the eight bullets she had left would last little more than a minute. She wouldn’t be conscious much longer than that.
Never doubting that Sean had beaten the odds and escaped the snow, she clung to the thought he would do everything in his power to dig her out of the dark, cold tomb.
Hang on.
She fired the seventh, or the eight bullet. Dizziness made her woozy.
“Carlie!”
Had someone shouted her name? Couldn’t be sure. The effort of shouting back was too much. Too hard.
Still, she had to fire the gun. Gathering every last bit of remaining strength, she pulled the trigger one last time.
She had done all she could. The fight seeped out of her. Faces flashed before her. Her mother. Sister. A blond-haired man. Dark-haired man…
SEAN FRANTICALLY SCRATCHED through the snow where he lay half-buried. Just seconds ago, Carlie had pulled her hand from his, shoving him toward safety. Momentum had carried him to the edge of the avalanche chute and out of harm’s way, to the side of a wide swath that looked as if cut by a mad cat-skinner and lined with broken trees. A mere instant had passed since the roaring snow had come to a halt and he’d seen Carlie disappear.
He stood upright, ignoring the snow on his face, the blood trickling from a cut on his lip. “Carlie?”
He spun left, right, and then again, searching for a sign of her golden hair, her blue parka. Damn it. She’d just been a few steps behind him. Where could she be buried?
He surveyed the mountainside he no longer recognized. Black cottonwood and balsam poplar and boulders had tumbled, carving new crevasses and paths. In places, he estimated the snow could be more than twenty feet deep. An icy chill settled between his shoulder blades at the thought of Carlie lying under all that snow. She would suffocate within minutes. He had to find her. Fast.
His rolling fall could have left them separated by dozens of yards. Gauging from the spot he’d last seen her, guessing at where she might be, he dashed uphill and to the east. Even as he started to scoop snow with his hands, he suspected his effort would be futile.
Damn. Damn. Damn. She’d yanked her hand from his, imperiling her life to save his. Her courage and sacrifice fueled his digging. He didn’t want to lose her. If she died, it would be his fault.
He’d lied to her and that had led to her coming out here alone. She must have been extra quiet leaving this morning, but he’d also been exhausted. He hadn’t fallen asleep until the early hours of the morning or he’d have heard her leave. By the time he’d awakened, she was already long gone. He’d tracked her, almost catching up to her before the first shot sounded.
At first he’d thought the shooter had been aiming at Carlie. But the shooter took advantage of perfect avalanche conditions, trying to make an attempt on her life appear accidental. Whoever was after her was obviously afraid that she’d be able to identify Jackson’s killer when her memory returned. And that person may have succeeded in keeping her quiet.
Forever.
Using his hands as a scoop, he stubbornly tossed the wet snow to one side.
Repeating the motion over and over without pausing for breath, he prayed he’d read the terrain correctly. There wasn’t time for a second effort.
She could be anywhere.
“Carlie!”
He couldn’t spare the breath to shout, yet he desperately needed an indication of her whereabouts.
“Carlie!”
Come on. Come on. Answer me.
A gun fired. Already deep in the hole he’d dug and protected by the snow, Sean barely paused. Whoever had started the avalanche with gunfire hadn’t given up.
But neither would he. Not until Carlie was safe in his arms.
Ten seconds later another shot fired, oddly muffled and coming from under him. Under him?
At the memory of Carlie’s gun attached to her shapely ankle, Sean realized she was answering him in the only way she could.
“Carlie. If you can hear me, fire two quick shots.”
Like a metronome, she continued to fire every ten seconds. She couldn’t hear him, which meant she was deeper than he’d hoped. And farther to his right. Sean angled the tunnel he was digging, letting her shots guide him.
His chest heaved from his efforts. Sweat trickled down his brow and into his eyes. He counted the shots. She only had two, maybe three more left.
He had to find her fast. She wouldn’t remain conscious much longer.
She fired another shot. And he still hadn’t spotted her.
“Hang on, babe. I’m almost there.”
The eighth bullet urged him on to superhuman effort. He had to find her now.
The space he’d hollowed out was so deep, he had trouble throwing the snow high enough to clear the hole. The deeper he dug, the harder and more compacted the snow. Even if she’d found a tiny air pocket, no one could last down here for much longer than thirty minutes. More likely, she had less than four or five. If he’d guessed wrong on where to dig, his mistake would be her death sentence.
Through the white, he spied darkness. His pulse accelerated with hope. Using his hands as a shovel, he clawed away snow.
Her boot!
There was no time for gentleness. No time to figure out how she’d landed. No time to figure out the best way to extract her. He grabbed her ankle and tugged with all his strength.
Suction fought him. Sean wasn’t about to let the snow keep her now. She tumbled into his lap, her fingers clenched in a death grip around the gun.
Wrenching off his gloves, Sean felt for her pulse at her neck. Her heart still beat strongly. Her face was pale, her lips had a bluish tinge.
He checked her breathing. Couldn’t find signs that her lungs still worked. How long had she been deprived of oxygen? He had been too frantic to find her to stop and check his watch.
He had no idea how much time had passed.
Without room in the cramped hole to lay her on her back and breathe into her mouth, he simply pressed his mouth over hers, held her nose shut and prayed that the air he blew into her would start her own body working again.
“Come on. Breathe. Breathe.”
A shudder hunched her shoulders.
“That’s right, breathe.”
She coughed weakly. And her eyelids fluttered open.
He’d never been so happy to see anyone in his life. “Welcome back.”
“Knew…you’d…save me.”
He smoothed the hair from her face. Color was returning. Her pink lips had lost the tinge of blue and her cheeks had regained some of their normal glow. She’d lost her hat and he removed his and placed it on her head. “You led me right to you by firing your gun.”
“Didn’t…shoot you?”
She had been worried about shooting him—while she was buried alive. What a woman. She’d kept her head, hadn’t panicked in a situation where even the most experienced mountain man might have.
Tenderly he drew her head against his shoulder. “You were smart and very brave.”
She tilted her head back, her eyes stark with unpleasant memories. “I didn’t like the dark and I was scared.” She shivered. “Scared and so cold.”
He dipped his head until his mouth was just an inch from hers. “Let me warm you up.”
She lifted her lips to his and he didn’t hesitate another moment. He could have lost her before he’d really gotten to know her. His heart lifted at another chance. He intended to make the most of it.
Sean took his time, liking the feel of her on his lap, savoring the sleek taste of her. She was so feminine, yet solid. Softly muscled on the outside, but with nerves of steel on the inside. Stubborn as a glacier, with a heart of twenty-four-karat gold. Overly emotional, perhaps, but she was the kind of woman a man could count on. The kind of woman who was as strong as he was himself.
It gave him a strange feeling to think of her as his equal, to think that was what he wanted in a woman. Her frothing feminine confidence all but riveted his senses. He couldn’t get enough of her. He wanted to taste her all over. He wanted her skin to skin. He wanted to hold her forever and never let her go. Ever.
She pulled back from their kiss first, studying him intently. “You said this wasn’t a good idea.”
“That was when I was trying to resist you.”
Her eyebrow rose. “And now?”
“Now I find you irresistible.” He leaned forward to kiss her again.
A light breeze swirled snowflakes around them. She placed a hand on his shoulder. “I want to go home, Sean. I’ve had enough snow and ice and darkness to last a lifetime.”
With a shattered feeling, he surmised the rest of what she would say but had to hear the words. “And?”
“Your home is here in this wilderness.” She rose to her feet and so did he. They stood so close in the confined space, touching at thighs, hips and chest. “You belong here. And I don’t.”
With a guarded expression, she was telling him she wasn’t interested in pursuing anything more between them, telling him that sizzling passion wasn’t enough to keep her here. He remained silent. He couldn’t blame her.
He thought of the laser light focused on her head, the wire strung across the path, the avalanche created to bury her, of the danger she’d already faced because he’d insisted on keeping her with him. Her life had been in danger from the moment she’d arrived and he couldn’t protect her. He’d been a fool to think he could. He should get her the hell away from Kesky before he was responsible for her death.
Shoving his disappointment and his sudden emptiness to the back of his mind, he forced himself to concentrate on their current predicament. First they had to climb out of the hole. Then he would take her home.
Soon he would have to say goodbye. A knot twisted in his abdomen. For her sake, he would find the strength to let her go.