Whispers on the Ice (18 page)

“No. Suddenly clear on the direction I want my life to take and what I want out of it. And unfortunately for you, Jamison, you’re smack dab in the middle of it. Have you got the energy to keep up with me?”

“Keep up with you? Old man, if it wasn’t for me you’d be looking for another bottle of hair color to get rid of your gray!” Jordan countered, running her hand through his thick curls, not a sign of gray to be seen.

“Wrong, Jamison. You’re the cause of any gray hairs you may find and I’m damn proud to show them off. I’ve earned every last one of them having to deal with your temper tantrums, your fits of prima donnaness…”

“Is that a real word?” Jordan quipped.

“Close enough. Your smart-ass attitude…”

“My nice ass,” Jordan corrected, smiling at the light that fired in Aleksei’s ebony eyes when he tossed her a heated glance.

“Yeah, your very nice ass, too,” he agreed. Where was I?” he asked with a wide smile.

“Does it matter? I get your point,” Jordan conceded.

Aleksei’s smile widened. “Good, as long as we’ve determined who’s in charge here.”

Jordan’s eyebrows rose yet again. “I never relinquished control of myself over into your very capable arms—hands.” Unable to resist, she stroked a hand over Aleksei’s shoulder and down his muscular arm. Even through the thick coat his muscles were plainly apparent. “We’re partners, friends, antagonists, confidants…”

“Lovers,” Aleksei added, his voice deep and warm.

“Lovers,” she agreed. “sounding-boards, help-mates… What am I forgetting?”

“I think I get the gist. We’re everything to each other.”

“Right. Can you live with that, Rocmanov?” Jordan asked.

Aleksei frowned, a crease forming between his eyes before he finally answered her. “I can’t believe I didn’t see it before, but now that I think about it, I’m sure that’s how my life has been for the last three years. You mean to tell me, we’ve been a
pair
for over three years and I’m only just now reaping the benefits of said partnership. Damn, Whittaker’s slipping. All this time and all I heard from him was,
don’t touch her
,
hands off
,
you’re skating partners—period
. I need to straighten him out or get myself a new coach.”

“Don’t pick on him. He was defending my honor.”

“You did just fine defending your own honor. Believe me, you made the boundaries quite clear regarding when and how you were to be touched.”

“It wasn’t meant to torture and torment you.”

“Maybe not, but it did just the same.”

“Look at it as foreplay,” Jordan suggested, blushing at Aleksei’s burning gaze as it wandered up and down her body, his gaze returning to meet hers, his message clear, he wanted nothing more than to devour her, on the spot if possible.

“I know all about foreplay, sweetheart, and let me tell you, you sent me up in flames more times than I care to think about, let alone name. You could count the number of hot showers I’ve taken in the last three years on one hand!” His voice was dangerously soft—passionately heavy.

“I’m sorry,” Jordan apologized on a whisper, secretly pleased by his admission.

“Don’t be. It was worth the wait!” Aleksei responded huskily, his hand reaching for hers and drawing it to his mouth, his lips placing a soft kiss in her palm. “I’ll love you forever, Jordan,” he promised quietly, his gaze switching from the snow and ice covered road to her face and back again.

“I love you, too,” Jordan whispered, running her knuckles against his strong jaw, the beginning roughness of his beard sending tingles up her arm, the lingering scent of his after-shave drawing her nearer, leading her to lean over and kiss the spot her fingers had just grazed. “I love the way you feel.”

“The feeling’s mutual and when we get off the mountain, you’re going to have to remind me of how you feel. It’s been too long since I held you in my arms.”

Jordan glanced at her watch—two fifty-three in the afternoon. “It’s only been a few hours, Rocmanov. How quickly they forget,” she sighed dramatically.

“Believe me, Jordan, I never forget how you feel—how you taste—I just happen to like frequent reminders,” he explained, suddenly leaning forward toward the windshield, straining to see through the ever-thickening snowfall that the windshield wipers never seemed to quite keep up with.

Jordan was busy changing CD’s, slipping Aleksei’s other choice into the player and reaching to push the play button. Her finger slipped to press the
repeat
button when she heard Aleksei’s damning curse and looked up to see the snowplow sliding sideways toward them, blocking both lanes on the narrow mountain road.

CHAPTER 13  

Aleksei slammed his food down on the brake pedal, felt the pounding pulse beneath his foot as the anti-lock braking system kicked in, barely slowing them as they slid headlong toward the looming snowplow. His gloved hands held the steering wheel steady, his mind racing through scenarios of escape, dismissing them one by one. With the snowplow taking up the entire road, there was no escape, towering mountain on their right, and a guardrail and very long fall to their left. Neither choice did much for him. He could hear Jordan’s harsh breathing, wishing he could hold her hand and reassure her everything would be fine, but he couldn’t. Until it was all over, he couldn’t risk diverting his attention from the ever-gaining snowplow. There would be time to comfort her when all this madness was over.

Jordan could only stare in morbid fascination as she watched the snowplow slowly slide ever closer, cutting off every avenue of escape their jeep might consider, knowing the snowplow could flatten them like a bug, probably wouldn’t even feel the bump as they slid beneath it’s gigantic body. Suddenly she felt as if she was watching the impending accident from somewhere else, somewhere far away. She could hear shallow, labored breathing, the pounding of a heart, faint music, somehow comforting but seemingly out of place in this nightmare. She saw her right hand grip the hand-hold over her head, and felt her nails dig into her palm as she closed her hand around the bar. Dazed, she watched her left hand brace itself against the center console, saw her feet press against the floor-board, preparing for the impact that seemed to only inch toward them. Like one frame of a picture after another; the snowplow’s progress was barely discernible visually but its threat loomed dangerously all the same.

Aleksei jerked the steering wheel to the right, he knew they’d never survive a head-on collision against the monster of steel only feet away. The thought that anything was better than being hit head-on flashed through his mind. He heard Jordan’s soft gasp of fear as if from far away, could hear the brakes screaming metal against metal as he pushed the brake to the floor-board, gripped the steering wheel and swore to himself he wouldn’t let go of it under any circumstances and hung on. With nothing else left to do, he softly called her name, his eyes drifting right, his gaze finding and holding hers, thoughts of everything he wanted to say to her flashing through his mind his mouth refusing to work. A sudden spark lit her emerald eyes, everything he felt in his heart he saw reflected in the depths of her eyes.
It’s okay, she knows
he realized and with the realization, a sweeping calmness stole over him. Her gentle smile was the last thing he saw before their world exploded.

The snowplow closed the final distance and slammed into the jeep. The impact shattered the windshield, the power of the blow throwing Aleksei against the driver’s door, despite his seat belt, his head hitting the side window and shattering it, glass exploding into the freezing air and blending like glitter with the dancing snowflakes. Jordan was thrown against the console, flashes of bright light dancing in the blackness assailed her as her ribs slammed against the solid surface; a far away groan. The air bags deployed—yet another explosion in the melee.

The snowplow’s motion continued, catapulting the jeep forward, sounds like the staccato of gunfire echoing through the mountains as the tires on the passenger’s side flattened, the sudden weight shift tilting the jeep crazily, the passengers inside were tossed to the right. Jordan moaned as her right shoulder made contact with her door, her hand still clenching the bar above her desperately; the one solid thing in her spinning world. The snowplow slid into the jeep a second time, propelling them forward and against the guardrail, a dented, rusted guardian against the long drop down. The jeep came to an abrupt stop, tilted at an angle, balanced on the flattened passenger’s side tires against the steel and wood barrier that kept them from sliding down the steep slope into oblivion.

Time moved in slow motion, one millisecond at a time, as the snowplow finally slid to a stop, its back end hitting the tilted jeep at the rear and pushing it through the steel railing. In horror, the dazed snowplow driver watched the jeep leisurely slip over the side of the road, like sliding into a warm pool, and disappear into the swirling whiteness, tumbling helplessly over rocks and trees, it’s path through the snow painfully visible. Finally, the battered jeep stopped its descent, upright against a stand of towering pines, their snow laden limbs trembling at the force of the jeep’s blow when it came to a rolling halt. Snow gently sifted over the broken vehicle, silent but for the howling wind that raced through the mountains, it’s wail mournful.

The snowplow driver sat dazed, unable to believe the tragedy he had just escaped, realizing he could just have easily followed the jeep over the side of the mountain. Clumsily he reached for the microphone on his two-way radio, barely able to hold it in his trembling hands.

“Base, this is Charlie-12, come back. May-day, may-day!” he managed to utter, his voice cracking with emotion.

“This is base, Charlie-12. What’s up?” a voice responded.

“Send all emergency units. We’ve got someone over the side. Mile marker twenty-nine!” he cried, tears starting to run down his cheeks.

“Are you okay, Charlie?” the voice asked in concern.

“They were kids, Margo. They were just kids!”

“Charlie, take a breath and talk to me. What happened?” the dispatcher asked, pushing one intercom button to signal an emergency, and then another to put the transmission out over the loudspeakers.

“I hit black ice…sideways slide…couldn’t control the rig. I saw the jeep and couldn’t do a damn thing. I pushed it over the side…I watched it slide down the mountain…” he answered faintly, his tone lifeless.

The dispatcher watched the rescue crew scramble, trying to control her own emotions that threatened run wild. “Sit tight, Charlie. Help’s on the way. Are you hurt?”

Charlie moved his limbs, legs worked, arms worked, ribs didn’t hurt, head was still attached, no scratches. He looked into the rearview mirror, no cuts or bruises that he could see, only his haunted blue eyes looking back.

“Charlie?” the dispatcher called.

“I’m fine—not a God damn scratch! I killed those two kids and I did-n’t get a GOD DAMN SCRATCH!” he railed, hitting his fists against the massive steering wheel before him.

“Take it easy, Charlie. Help will be there real soon. We’ll get ‘em out. You’ll see, everything’s going to be just fine,” the dispatcher offered, sending up a prayer to heaven that she would be right.

“How, Margo? How will everything be fine? You didn’t see ‘em. You didn’t see their faces when they slide over that edge. They’re just kids, Margo, with their whole lives ahead of ‘em!”

“I know, Charlie. You’re right—I didn’t see them. But we’re on the way and we’re going to get them out!” Margo insisted.

“I’m going down to see what I can do for ‘em,” Charlie stated, releasing his seat belt. “I’ll get back to you.”

“You be careful, Charlie. We don’t want to have to be rescuing you, too.”

“I’ll get back to you,” Charlie ended, tossing the microphone to the seat, zipping his jacket and pulling his hat lower over his ears.

As he stepped out of his rig, the wind howled around him, pushing against him as if in punishment, demanding atonement for his error. Cautiously he peered over the side, squinting against the snow that struck his face like tiny needles, each sharp prick reminding him of how much more fortunate he was than the crumpled vehicle so many feet below him. Tears stung his eyes, freezing before they fell. Closing his eyes to block the wind, he found new pain as the vision of two faces, frozen in bewilderment, and then fear, flashed before his mind’s eye with a force that dropped him to his knees. Blindly he opened his eyes, again squinting to see through the swirling blizzard in the hopes of finding the wreckage below him. “Help’s on the way. You two stay put and we’ll get you out real soon!” he yelled, his hands around his mouth as he sought to be heard above the wind.

For a brief moment, the wind stopped blowing. The snowflakes twirled gracefully to the ground. A sound caught his attention, making him turn his head from side to side as he sought its source. From far below him, Celine Dion’s and Andrea Boccelli’s voices blended in sheer beauty and power as they sang
The Prayer
. Charlie shook his head in wonder and disbelief. Of all the songs in the entire world, the fact it was this one, which drifted through the sudden peacefulness, had to be an omen. Charlie only hoped it was one of good.

* * * * *

We ask that life be kind, and watch us from above. We hope each soul will find another soul to love. Let this be our prayer, when we lose our way. Lead us to a place—guide us with your grace, to a place where we’ll be safe…

Celine Dion’s words beckoned to Jordan from far away, a somehow familiar voice in a world where it felt as if she was moving in slow motion, her mind refusing to put the fractured pictures, that flashed strobe-like before her eyes, and made her head pound painfully, back together. Cold wind and snow blowing across her cheek brought her eyes open, her vision blurring as the wind glazed her eyes. Her eyes drifted shut, the effort to hold them open overwhelming. The song continued, beginning anew, and slowly drew Jordan back to reality.
Aleksei’s choice of music for their next program
, her mind screamed, the last flashing moments of their world returning clearly to her memory, a gasp of panic escaping her mouth as a puff of fog in the freezing air.

“Aleksei…” Jordan moaned, turning her head toward the left. “Oh, God…” she cried, struggling to release the seat-belt, grabbing her ribs as pain fired through her side, taking the breath from her lungs and causing bright lights to flash before her eyes
. Breathe—just breathe,
she told herself, concentrating on controlling the pain. She couldn’t help Aleksei if she fainted. Gradually, the pain subsided and her vision cleared, her mind holding the panic at bay for the moment. She tried the seat-belt latch again, moaning when pain from her left wrist speared up her forearm and into her shoulder. A wave of nausea rushed through her body and for a moment she thought she was going to be sick. Through sheer effort, she refused to acknowledge, let alone, give into her weakness. There would be time to get sick later, Aleksei needed her now. Struggling to twist enough in her seat, she managed to push the latch with her right hand, pushing the slim piece of fabric that had saved her life away from her body.

Carefully she got to her knees on the seat; her left wrist barely supported her weight and throbbed painfully as she leaned against the console separating her from Aleksei. Cautiously she ran her hands over the parts of him she could reach, tentatively poking and grazing the right side of his body. When she pressed against his stomach, he moaned softly, his head turning toward her, his eyes blinking open then closing again.

“Come on, Rocmanov. Look at me,” Jordan pleaded, gently running her hand over his left cheek and into his hair to hold his head steady, grimacing when warm blood flowed over her fingers.

“That must have been some party,” Aleksei mumbled, his voice strained.

“What are you talking about, Aleksei?” She asked, her gaze switching back and forth between Aleksei and looking around for the box of Kleenex that had been in the back seat, but was now God only knew where.

“This hangover…we won Gold, didn’t we?” he mumbled weakly, his eyes blinking open, squinting as he tried to focus, then his expression became confused. “What happened?”

Jordan finally located a sweatshirt stuck beneath the seat, ripping it free from a bent metal bracket. She folded it and placed it carefully against Aleksei’s head, lifting his hand to hold it in place.

“Sorry.” Jordan whispered at Aleksei’s hiss of pain when she pushed the fabric against the wound.

“Well?” Aleksei asked quietly.

Jordan looked through the windows, void of glass, and shrugged her shoulders. “I’d say we took the express elevator down the mountain, and nothing against your driving, but next time, I’ll drive.”

“Not a problem,” he agreed, wincing as he tried to shift position in his seat.

“What’s wrong?” Jordan questioned sharply, watching his face go pale; his eyes close as he struggled to control the pain.

“My ribs,” he finally answered, breathing slowly—shallowly.

“Does it hurt anywhere else?”

“I think the easier question would be where doesn’t it hurt.”

Jordan smiled softly. Joking was a good sign, wasn’t it? “Okay, then. Where doesn’t it hurt?”

Aleksei pointed to his lips, turning his head to accept Jordan’s soft kiss when she moved toward him. “Thanks.”

“For what?”

“The kiss and for not freaking out and falling apart.”

Jordan shrugged. “Not that I didn’t take it under serious consideration, but what would be the point? It’s not as if freaking out is going to change anything,” she stated matter-of-factly.

“Be that as it may. It’s a typical reaction.”

“Since when have I ever behaved in a
typical
fashion?” Jordan asked, frowning when she checked his head wound and found it still bleeding.

“Point taken,” Aleksei mumbled, closing his eyes wearily. “So where are we?”