Chilled (A Bone Secrets Novel) (2 page)

The weather didn’t bother her. She welcomed the rescue trip for the chance to get out of town and put some space between herself and Liam. She guiltily fingered the cell phone in her pocket. Liam had been asleep when she got the call for the mission. She’d left him a note.

She flipped open her phone and held down the end key until the screen shut off.

“Hey.” Jim pulled her aside two steps and lowered his voice, his blue eyes probing. “Any chance you’re pregnant?”

“What?” She shot out the word as her lungs stopped functioning.
Pregnant? Where the fuck did that question come from?

Jim had the decency to blush, an odd sight on the rugged man. “Liam was pretty pissed about what happened to you on our last rescue mission. He claimed he was gonna get you knocked up to keep you out of the woods.”

“Liam said
what?”
Brynn’s throat choked out the words. Knocked up? Was this a movie? Just because Jim had known her since she was fifteen didn’t give him the right to stick his nose in her private life. Blinking rapidly in the misting rain, Brynn opened her mouth and then closed it, coughed, glared at Jim, and then tried again. “First of all, it’s none of your damned business.”

“As field team leader—”

She cut off his words with a sharp swipe of her hand in the air. “You need to think twice about the crap spilling out of your mouth, Jim. Liam doesn’t decide if I’m getting pregnant.”
And then tell
you
about it.

“He was furious when you got caught in that rockfall last time. You were lucky to walk away with a concussion and broken collarbone,” Jim argued, leaning closer.

Her face heated, she glanced at Thomas, who was blatantly following the conversation with mild amusement. “That could’ve happened to anyone. I’m gonna pretend you never brought up this subject. If Anna knew you were talking to me like this you’d be sleeping on the couch for a month.”

She wanted to smack Jim on the back of the head. His wife, Anna, would cheer her on. Jim pressed his lips together.

Brynn seethed, her vision tunneling. Was Liam trying to ruin her volunteer job? And why in hell was Liam discussing private things with Jim?
Jesus Christ. Pregnant?
She blew out a breath. She’d been right to sneak out this morning.

Jim shouldn’t listen to Liam. Liam was the one who’d been sleeping on the couch for a month at his brother’s house. There was no possibility she was pregnant. The only reason Liam had stayed in her spare room last night was because they’d argued late into the evening. She bit her tongue. She didn’t have the energy to explain their issues to Jim. He thought Liam and she were still living together and skipping down the contented road to marriage.

Wasn’t. Going. To. Happen.

At the sound of sharp barking, she turned toward the forest. Her gray-and-white dog bounded out of the trees, leaping over puddles as it sped toward the group.

“Kiana!” Brynn held her arms straight out from her sides and then brought her hands together at her stomach. “Come ‘ere, girl!”

At a second hand command, the dog skidded to a stop directly in front of Brynn. Brynn jumped and ducked back, knowing what was coming. Kiana shook, drenching Jim, and then she sat, her eager blue gaze on her master. Jim cursed at the unexpected soaking.

Good dog.

“I think you’re waterproof. It’s just a little more rain.” She scratched the dog under the chin, smiling as Jim gave Kiana a rough head rub with both hands. The dog pressed her nose against Jim’s leg, asking for more attention. Seeing her dog soak Jim cheered Brynn immensely, and their spat was forgotten. Almost.

“Rain doesn’t fall upward.” Jim brushed the dirty water off his cheeks.

An old Ford truck roared into the clearing and parked behind Brynn’s Nissan. Brynn watched Ryan Sheridan toss his battered cowboy hat on the seat, yank up his jacket’s hood, grab his backpack, and jog over to join their group, holding the forty-pound pack like it was a sack lunch.

He slung on his pack. “Sorry. Traffic sucked. Are we ready?” He nodded at the three waiting team members, his gaze eager. Enthusiasm radiated from Ryan. He was pumped for the mission. As usual.

Thomas shook his head, tipping it at the sheriff. “Collins hasn’t given the OK yet.”

Jim updated the late member on what they knew about the plane and its occupants.

Ryan’s eyes lit up. “A felon? Someone’s ass to haul back in cuffs. Excellent.”

Collins slapped his phone shut and marched back to the wet clique. Brynn eyed the tight muscle in his jaw and stiff set to his neck and knew he was furious.

“OK. Listen up. We’ve got a fed coming in from the marshals’ office. They say he’ll be here any minute, and he’s going out on the search and rescue with you guys.”

“What?” Brynn blinked.

“Bull-shee-it.” Ryan drew out the word into three syllables.

“Forget it.” Jim shook his head. “We don’t need some idiot who doesn’t know what the hell he’s doing out here. I won’t compromise my team’s safety or speed with a suit.”

Collins went on as if he hadn’t heard, “We are to extend every courtesy...”

“Courtesy? It’s not a fucking tea party. Do we have to take this guy on the mission? What if he can’t keep up?” Thomas’s angry voice packed the intensity of a lion.

Collins firmly met the livid man’s gaze. “I told them this wasn’t how we did things out here. But he insisted. That was the head honcho at the Oregon US Marshals’ office, and if he says he wants a man on our team, then he’ll get a man on our team.” Collins blew out a harsh breath. “I’m outranked here. He says the marshal is physically fit and won’t have a problem keeping up. Claims the marshal competes in triathlons. I don’t have a sufficient reason to turn him down.”

The search and rescue quartet stood silent.

Jim spoke first. “You know there’s more than just fitness involved out there, Collins. It can be a mental nightmare. Especially if the crash site is an ugly one. You’re telling me I’m taking a rookie into this shitty weather to find a plane crash that has a convicted criminal on board? Maybe a murderer?”

At the word
convicted,
Ryan’s gaze met Brynn’s and an eager grin stretched across his face.
Adrenaline junkie.
She narrowed her eyes at him and he winked back with those damned gorgeous lashes. He had a face high school girls would pin on their walls. Adult women too.

“Marshals aren’t wimps. I think he can handle whatever gets thrown at him. And that plane’s carrying a pair of blameless pilots and at least one other agent who deserve our damnedest effort.” Collins spotted Ryan’s grin. “No hotdog stuff. You’ll probably be disappointed anyway.”

Translation: a plane crash in the Oregon Cascades meant death.

“This is a big-ass waste of time,” Thomas said evenly. “No one can survive a crash out there, and chances are we won’t find the plane until we get some air support. It’s going to be like hiking in circles in the Arctic.”

“Fine. You sit on your big ass.” Brynn glowered at him, her voice sharp. “I won’t wait around when there’s a chance that someone’s hurt out there and my help could determine whether or not they live. That’s not how I’m programmed. If there’s a chance I can help, then damn it, I’m going in. And I don’t care if it’s a convict or your grandma. It makes no difference to me.”

The plinking sound of rain on their outdoor gear was the only noise in the forest clearing. Thomas had looked down at Brynn’s words, his boots shifting in the mud.

She softened her tone but maintained the urgency. “We won’t know till we get in there. We have to try. The marshal on the plane and those pilots might still be alive.” The men all nodded, purpose spreading across their faces.

Jim looked to Collins. “So where’s our fed at?”

Alex Kinton pulled his SUV to a lurching stop, choosing the smallest puddle to park in, and then sat and absorbed the gloomy tableau before him. Wet, foggy, cold, and wet. A close-knit circle of red parkas turned his way. Even from fifty feet away he could see and feel the tension in the postures.

He wasn’t welcome.

He didn’t blame them, but he also didn’t care.

He had a plane to get to.

Alex forced himself to open the door and step into the bitterly cold air.
Christ. Fucking weather.
No turning back. He ran a restless hand through his hair and pulled up his hood as goose bumps spread across his arms.

One of the red parkas stepped out from the circle as Alex worked his way across the mud and muck. His lungs contracted at the stabbing chill in the wet air. It smelled like snow. That fresh-scrubbed, icy smell that came before the skies let loose with the white stuff. Had to be close to freezing. He couldn’t stop a full-body shudder and shiver and hoped the onlookers hadn’t noticed. Why hadn’t the crash happened in the middle of August? When it was hot enough to wear shorts?

The man in the parka approached, holding out a hand in greeting, but his brown eyes were cautious. The dark man looked to be in his fifties; an air of natural leadership emanated from him.

“Alex Kinton?”

Alex nodded. “You must be Collins. The boss said you’d have a pack and equipment ready for me.”

Collins’s chin jerked at the curt tone, and Alex levelly met his gaze. He didn’t have the time or patience for how-do-you-do chitchat. His stomach abruptly cramped, reminding him he’d skipped breakfast. The gut pain coordinated with his growing
headache from ignoring his medication last night and this morning. He’d wanted a clear head to meet the plane so he’d deliberately left the small orange pill bottle on the shelf.

Now he had a clear, pounding head.

Collins nodded slowly, his gaze plainly assessing. As if he’d decided something, his expression suddenly cooled and his lips thinned. “I’ll get you a pack. This is the team that’s going in. Jim’s in charge.” Collins tilted his head at the four remaining men, turned his back, and strode to his Suburban.

Alex let his spine relax a millimeter. Collins had recognized the persona Alex had presented. A soldier reporting for duty. No opinion on the task ahead, a simple acceptance of what was thrown on his plate. Locked, loaded, and ready for action.

He turned toward the others, sucking in a deep breath to fill his lungs. Wondering which red parka was Jim, Alex solidly met each man’s stare.
Whoops.
The last person was a woman. Her mouth twitched and her dark eyes danced in amusement and confidence at his obvious surprise.

Alex froze. His vision tunneled on her face, and her eyes widened a fraction. Their eye contact splintered his carefully constructed wall of indifference. For a split second Alex didn’t feel the cold, his concern about the missing plane evaporated, and his mind became refreshingly clear. She bit her lip and glanced away, breaking the connection.

Alex’s brain slammed back to the task at hand and the muddy woods.

With her height, hood, and bulky parka, she’d blended in neatly with the men. A big gray-and-white dog sat at her feet, studying him with a keen blue gaze, its tail happily wagging. Alex’s gaze went back to the other men, and he blinked at the
hostility that’d crept into their faces as he’d stared at the woman. He stiffened.

At least the dog didn’t seem to mind his presence.

“Alex Kinton.” He gave a stiff nod and fought the urge to salute.

They rattled off their names, and Alex’s mind snagged on the woman’s unusual one.
Brynn.
Different. Her warm brown eyes were now curious, and her mouth spread in a tenuous smile as she bent down to rub the dog. Blonde hair peeked from under her hood. Clear features and a long elegant neck reminded him of a ballet dancer. Could she keep up? Collins had argued long and hard against Alex’s presence on the hasty team. Claimed it was a physical and mental effort most people couldn’t do.

Jim turned out to be the shortest guy. His experienced gaze probed and traveled over Alex from his brand-spanking-new hiking boots to the hood of his Columbia Sportswear Titanium jacket. Alex had ripped off the coat’s tag just before stepping out of his SUV.

His new boss spoke, “What you got on under your rain pants?”

Alex’s mouth tightened at the direct question. He had to answer to this guy?

“Clothes.”

With one step, Jim was in his face, rain dripping off his nose. “We’re going out into a bone-chilling, goddamned wet environment. If you get pissed and tired because you’re cold and damp because you wore the wrong fucking clothes, I ain’t gonna slow my team to babysit you.” Jim’s blue eyes sparked dangerously.

Point taken.

“Under Armour, then fatigues. Two pairs of socks. No cotton. My boots are waterproof, and my damned gloves cost more than this platinum jacket.” Alex held up a navy gloved hand, still amazed at the ridiculous price. “Either I’m perfectly dressed for shitty mountain weather or the clerk at the outdoor store saw me coming from a mile away and pocketed a commission big enough to buy a plasma TV.” He spoke directly to Jim, gaze locked on his leader, forcing himself to accord the man respect. He’d made a mistake. This wasn’t someone he wanted as an enemy.

“Good.” Jim backed up two steps and snorted, still assessing him, still obviously ticked at having a stranger in their midst.

“Titanium,” Brynn stated.

Alex turned to her. “Huh?”

“Your jacket’s line is called Titanium, not platinum.” Her lips curved up on one side and her eyes smiled.

“For as much as it cost it should be made of platinum. I spent more money on clothing this morning than most people make in a month.” Those lively dark eyes sparkled at his reply. She wasn’t beautiful. Her mouth was wide and her chin a little too stubborn. She was more interesting looking, but probably caught her share of double takes from men. Men like him.

One of the guys coughed, clumsily covering a laugh. Ryan, maybe? Alex scanned the men coolly, aware he’d been caught a second time looking longer than was polite. He studied his “team.”

Ryan was biting his cheek, a weak attempt to stop his grin. Sun-bleached hair lazily covered his forehead, reminding Alex of a surfer. Ryan looked like he belonged in a different kind of wet environment. Jim had a manner of natural leadership and sharp, focused eyes that swore to keep tabs on Alex. The third
man had stayed silent, his face expressionless. His black hair and tanned skin hinted at a Native American background. Thomas was the biggest of the bunch, and Alex’s neck muscles contracted as Thomas’s deep eyes considered him.