Threat: Follow up to Stranded but not Alone (Dragoslava Connection) (13 page)

“I think you and I will have a good week and who knows I may gain a new friend.”

He caught Bethany’s attention trained on him untying the leather laces of her hiking boots. Might as well play the good guy role up to the sky. “As long as you can ski…,” he teased her.

She laughed. “I can ski.”

He set them under the bench and massaged one stocking foot before removing the other doing the same with the other boot. Holding the hard plastic boot, he secured it onto her foot, snapping the metal strap across her ankle continuing down to her feet before moving on to the next one. “These are good quality boots, Bethany,” he said, regarding her through long brown hair spilling around her face. “Smart choice, most new skiers go for flash instead of quality.” He paused taking a closer look at the …pretty woman. He might have a good time after all. “Tell me about Bethany,” he said patting her calf and helping her to her feet. Bethany pulled out a lip balm, swiping it across her lips, rubbing them together and Greg followed each stroke. He had to get a grip. “Only the real stuff works out here. So pretty, girlie lipstick won’t keep the wind from chaffing your skin.”

She held the tube up in the air for him to see. “You need to get out more. There’s nothing pretty about petroleum jelly, and there’s nothing girlie about grease on your face and lips, but I haven’t found anything that protects my skin better,” she admitted. “It’s old school and it works.”

“What’s old school?”

“Old fashion or just from an earlier era. Something you did or heard as a child.”

Greg gave her an approving nod. “A serious skier, good,” he said stepping into his boots beside hers on the tray. “Tell me about the woman I’m protecting. Any health issues I should be aware of. Asthma, Epilepsy…” She shot him a wide-eyed stare. “Alright,” he said checking her boots. “Tell me something personal. What do you sleep in? Pajamas or the nude?”

She fumbled the cap from the lip balm. He caught it before it hit the floor and seconds before her jaw went slack. “Excuse me!”

He released a wicked smile. “Now, my first question doesn’t seem so bad does it? Any health issues I should be aware of?”

Tucking the tube into her breast pocket, she said, “None of your business on the second question and no Epipens or inhalers, needed on the first question.” She shook her head. “Not much else to tell. I come from an average American family. Mother and father.”

“No siblings?”

Why do people always ask that question when they ask about you? Can’t he just ask her what she weighed, that’s less painful, and she was happy to tell him? How much could she lie about what people can see, give or take ten pounds? A breath left her body on a groan.

“My brother died when I was a little girl,” she confessed, and it banged around in her head like the liberty bell rung inside a cave. She hated hearing that word died. “No other siblings, so I’m by all visual accounts an only child,” she continued then changed the visual in her mind to the man before her. “Let’s go get our number for the contest and get in the race.”

“Were you close to your brother?” he drew her in with that question.

Robert’s face flashed before her. She stared at her hands. “…from the moment he was born. Can we talk about something else?”

Outside, she tried to enjoy herself. Overnight the snow developed a frozen top layer to crunch under each step she took alongside Greg.

“So, for them to believe you sent the threat there has to be something tense between you and Mikhail. Has he ever done anything to you?”

“No. We didn’t get off on the best start. Tell me about yourself, Officer Greg. I’ve never had an officer or member of SWAT escort me anywhere. Am I that much of a threat?”

The tilt of his head said he thought she’d said something funny. The first sign he was human. “I volunteered,” he offered from under the baseball cap. “This way I can watch you and get to know you.” His grin was a bit crooked or maybe it was his nose. How many people must he have put in the hospital in his line of work?

They trudged up the hill to the lift where others stood waiting. Standing in line to get on a lift, Bethany watched him set her skis on the ground. Holding her foot, he snapped each boot down onto her skis before she situated herself on the lift. The deep grooves on either sides of his mouth added to the undercurrent of something secretive. Always studying her and ready to teach her with a patient hand. Had they met under different circumstances, she might have found him attractive after a few drinks.

The swing swayed as he got in beside her. Pushing her goggles up, she caught a glimpse of Mikhail on the ground leaning against his truck in the far parking lot…staring at her.

Pulling on her gloves, she focused on her partner speaking.

“You’re not a white collar snob like I figured you’d be.”

Talk about off the mark. “I have my prissy moments, I’ll admit, but a snob is too uptight even for me. I come from everyday people,” she said stunned by that observation.

“I wouldn’t call you prissy,” Greg said, pushing his sleeve back to eye his watch. “A smart ass maybe, but not prissy,” he added.

“I guess we can all be a little difficult when someone threatens your life.”

“That I think you handled well.” He looked past her, gave a short shake of his head, and refocused on her face. “I think we make a good team. Paired up together for the games, we’ll kick some ass, and no one will know I’m your guard. It’ll draw out the stalker, trust me.”

“If winning will stop this madness, we’re winning every event,” she replied, liking the idea of forgetting who he truly was and just having a good time.

Pretend he’s not a cop and Mikhail was her boyfriend…Did the crazy ever stop?

“We’ll kill the competition on the race and scavenger hunt tomorrow,” he gloated, a mischievous gleam in his eyes when he looked at her.

She took a breath. “You sound sure of us as a team.”

“I know these slopes having skied the area for years,” he assured her, his accent held authority and a hint of danger. It was rather sexy. Maybe this week wouldn’t be a bust after all.

Meeting new people had always intrigued her, and he fit the bill. “Then you’re familiar with the Shamochernyi family outside of Mikhail getting the threat?”

“I’ve never tossed one back with him, if that’s what you’re asking. They have good clean slopes. The air is perfect for jumps.” Greg ran a finger over her goggles, brushing the falling snow onto her nose. She hurried and wiped it off before he attempted to touch her again. “You jump?” he asked with a grin.

She couldn’t help staring because all she could picture were those kids jumping off rooftops with their tongues hanging out and fingers turned up, the next thing they’d show was the boy clutching his crotch rolling on the ground crying for his mother.

“Not my thing,” Bethany tensed behind his B-movie wicked smile. “I can pretty much do all the sports and ride the horses, but no jumping off cliffs or extreme tricks.”

Greg said, “Good, I’m not looking to kill myself either, just have a good time.”

When the swing stopped rocking their skis, they hit the snow and side by side, they eased down the slope. Bethany gave her poles five good pushes into the thick snow before tucking them beneath her arms and angling her body forward to try to catch up with Greg. The scenery went by in a blur as snow whipped past her goggles making her nose run. The sharp, cold air on her face, the brisk wind pressing at her jacket, and the familiar scent of pine all made for an exhilarating run down the slopes. When she caught up with Greg, she wouldn't be out performed. One solid push and Bethany was airborne. Greg’s green and blue jacket came into view as she caught up to him whooshing down the hill like a pro. Was she skiing with a professional skier? He was amazing on the long boards.

Squatting low she followed Greg, flew over the small hill to land on her butt, and then roll down the incline to clip Greg’s legs. Hitting the ground on her back, Bethany yelped. Greg fell hard taking her with him until they smashed into the bales of straw at the bottom nearly ripping down the sign.

Face down in the snow; she flipped over onto her back spitting out snow wiping her sleeve across her mouth. As she sat up, she thought of riding the toboggan down devil’s hill with her family as a little girl in Michigan, and fell over laughing. Her father would get a running start at the top of the hill. Screaming, she’d land on her butt bouncing across the cleared landing by the trees. She missed those days. And she always woke up with bruises the way she was certain would tomorrow.

Laying back in the snow, she rubbed her aching shoulder. It felt good to laugh again.

Straightening her hat, she saw his long legs weren’t moving, and panicked seeing his boots minus his skis. Along his legs, she crawled through the snow over to check on Greg, sprawled out under the large plastic sign advertising the games. Still no movement. Calling his name, she touched his legs through the jeans. His hands flung out wide, one missing a glove scared her heartbeat into a gallop.

“Greg, you okay? Say something?” She lifted his jacket. The way he hit the sign there’s no way he didn’t have a broken rib, collarbone, or something. She ran her fingers along his hard, flat stomach, navel, sliding her hand up over his ribs counting the ridges she blew out a breath. He was a lot more put together than she’d thought. Moving her hand, she checked the other side. Now she needed a heartbeat. She laid her hand on his chest over his heart, closed her eyes, and prayed. The man, packed with muscle, distracted her yet there it was a heartbeat. Relief washed over her with every pulse.

He wasn't talking and his eyes were shut, but his face held no expression, nothing. He was unconscious. Tugging off her gloves, dropping them in the snow Bethany hurriedly rubbed his face, patting color into his cheeks. “C'mon, Greg, please don't be in a coma. Talk to me. Say something. Open your eyes, anything. Let me know you’re in there.” There was no way to move him without knowing if he had a head injury. It would just make it worse, or paralyze him. Where were the instructors when she needed one?

Anxious, Bethany shot a glance up the slope hoping to see other skiers and found herself rolled onto her back in the snow. Her arms stretched above her head and Greg's mouth an inch from hers. Those humorless green eyes were close enough to feel the sweep of his lashes when he blinked. The hard body lying on hers was very much alive and agile. The goggles around his neck brushed against her throat.

“Never presume it's safe to let your guard down because the body's not moving. Unless there's a good amount of blood seeping from his ears, consider him a viable threat and approach with caution. Better yet, in your case, don't approach at all. Get the hell out of there.” Bethany grunted when he rolled to his back leaving her straddling his waist. “Now get up. Try not to kill me on the first day. I’m looking for a trophy this year.” His wicked grin made it glaringly clear they were alone and regardless of his platonic words earlier, he was interested. That stiff club pressing at her butt was ready to play.

Greg released her. Landing on her hip, Bethany fumbled on the ground to get to her knees in the fluffy wet snow. Shoving her goggles back, she stared at him rising to a sitting position. In the dark away from the floodlights highlighting the trails, she could make out his hard jawline and nothing else. A shiver ran along her spine, and it had nothing to do with the snow. What sort of people was he accustomed to protecting, Government informants, drug dealers or snobby debutants? And which category did she fall under?

She pushed up to her feet, brushing snow from her knees, steadying herself on one ski. “Maybe we should get back on the trail and finish this race.”

After two hours, Bethany sat on a bale of hay watching Greg with their second place ribbon. He pinned it to her ski jacket.

“You’re alright for an American and a woman,” he taunted resting back on the palms of his hands.

At least he didn’t say for a black woman
. “Okay both of those comments were offensive, but I’ll let you determine where I punch you, in your arm or the throat.”

Fluffy white snowflakes billowed through the air when he fell back on the ground laughing. “You’re going to hit me?”

“Brawn isn’t everything.”

“You’re right.” The way his lips lifted, he appeared almost human, outside of the grizzly bear physique. “You nearly killed me with your skis on the first jump and now you’re going to hit me.”

She angled back to watch him sprawled on the ground.

“You led me over a rock, what did you think was going to happen once I went airborne?”

“You said you could ski,” he said coming to his feet to stand beside her with a hand out to help her up off the hay bale.

“Ski—not air surf with a back flip. This isn’t the Olympics. You could’ve skied around it or hollered, ‘Bethany look out!’ Anything to stop me from nearly killing us, back there,” she flipped her fingers toward the ramp.

He stared a little too long, and it made her uncomfortable. “How old are you?” he asked, his blond stubble catching the afternoon sun reflecting off the white snow. There was that handsomely battered hockey player she was certain lived under that black cap.

Heat crawled over her from his visual perusal, sizing up her curves.

“I think it’s time for lunch.”

Greg raised one sinister brow. “That young…okay. Let’s go get something to eat…I’m hungry.”

Cold air did something wicked to the men up here.

Horse hooves crunched through the snow. Its reigns jingled with each step.

She turned. A delicious scent she loved filled her senses, making her body weep on the inside.

Mikhail approached leading his horse down the trail. “Don’t worry, Greg, she’s my guest. I’ll see her safely to her suite. And if she tries anything sneaky I have my rifle,” he taunted, indicating the leather scabbard flung over the side of his horse.

Bethany didn’t know what to say as the two men appeared to bristle as they locked eyes with each other to be with her. “It’s fine, Greg. I’ll meet you in the morning for cross country races or the scavenger hunt.”