Authors: Kimberley Woodhouse
Cole raised his hand again.
Jenna grinned at this big man acting like a schoolboy. "Go ahead."
"What about playing outside?"
"Well, in the summer months, we had to watch the temperature closely, and since we're tilted so close to the sun during that time, the sun could heat her up fast. Even if the air temp was only forty degrees. In the winter months, well . . . that's another story."
Cole tilted his head. "How so?"
"Andie would come running up to me with the digital readout for the outside temp and say, 'Mama, look! It's cold, I go outside!' and she would barrel out the door without socks, boots, gloves, coat, or hat. Marc and I would haul her back in and tell her that she still had to be careful. We didn't want her getting frostbite."
"A real daredevil, huh?"
"Oh, you have no idea. Take a stubborn child, and remove the fear factor. Think about it. If you have no fear of consequences—mainly pain—you'd try just about anything."
Jenna watched as Andie's reality sunk in. "Yep, she tried to fly. Would climb anything and everything. And would insist that her daddy catch her as she dove toward the concrete—which, as you can guess, scared Marc out of his wits." Jenna couldn't help a laugh. "The funniest thing happened when she was about three and a half. She went through this phase—you know watching all the other toddlers run around and fall down. Well, Andie discovered that other kids would fall down and cry and someone would pick them up, kiss them, dote on them . . . you get the picture."
"Oh boy."
"Yeah. 'Oh boy' is right. Because she started falling down on purpose. She'd cry at the top of her lungs, but as soon as someone picked her up, she would clap her hands and smile. Like it was all a big game."
"Sounds like you guys had your hands full."
"Yeah, well, let's just be honest. I don't think Marc or I ever slept with both eyes closed until she was at least five years old."
"Okay." Cole's face took on a quizzical expression, like he was stumped by something. "So explain this—the other night, she was shivering. Said she was really cold in the snow cave. I don't understand."
Jenna liked this guy. He paid attention, and he really seemed to care. "Well, it goes both ways."
"What do you mean?"
"Her body can't regulate her temperature if she gets too hot, but her body also cannot regulate itself if she's too cold. Once her temperature starts to rise, you better watch out, because it's extremely difficult to bring it down. Fevers can be life-threatening to her. She can't sweat, so her body can't help itself out. The same thing with cold—once her body gets too cold, it continues to plummet. Doesn't know how to warm itself back up."
Cole absorbed this information, his expression so like Marc's when he prepared for a mission that Jenna caught her breath.
"Andie told me she had to have brain surgery."
Seems like her daughter had confided quite a lot in Cole. "A couple of years ago, Andie got sick. Really sick. She curled up in a little ball, her eyes glazed over, and she wouldn't eat, drink, or even talk unless you forced her."
"What happened?"
Jenna breathed deeply. "We didn't know. All we knew is that our child who had never complained of pain—
ever,
in all her life—now said her head hurt."
Memories of that terrible time flooded her, all the worry and fear, the struggle to understand . . . The worst journey she'd endured as a parent: watching her child suffer—lay so still and unresponsive—without answers or a way to help. She choked back the emotion and forced herself to go on. "The doctors couldn't figure out what was wrong until they did an MRI of her brain." Jenna blinked back tears. Even now, all this time later, it still shook her. "They discovered another rare condition."
"What did they find?"
"Her brain was being squished by her skull. It's called a Chiari malformation of the brain. Basically, her brain didn't have enough room, so it was oozing down into the spinal cavity, putting pressure on her spinal cord."
The somber expression in his eyes said it all: it was too much for one kid to endure.
"Anyway, a large fluid-filled cyst had developed on her spinal cord because of the pressure, and she began to have worse problems. She'd fall down the stairs, run into the wall, miss the chair when she was sitting down. It was horrible. And it took an awful toll on Marc to watch his baby struggle."
Jenna glanced over to where Andie slept. "She kept a smile on her face through most of it, but every once in a while, it really got to her." Jenna shook the memories away. "Andie had brain decompression surgery a little over a year ago."
"I'm sorry."
Those two, quiet words, so full of compassion, almost undid her. "But as awful as that was—"
Jenna swallowed back the grief threatening to overwhelm her. "There's more. While she was still in the hospital . . ."
Cole's eyes widened, understanding dawning. "Marc."
Jenna nodded. "While my little girl lay in that hospital bed, I had to tell her the worst news of all—"
Emotion clogged her throat, choking off the words. Tears dripped off her chin as the memory and grief resurfaced. When she could finally speak again, it was in a whisper.
"I had to tell her . . . that her daddy was dead."
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
JENNA
April 11
Sultana, Denali National Park
4:23 a.m.
"Jenna, I'm so sorry."
She waved him off, swiping at the tears on her cheeks. "I know. It's okay. Just a really,
really
hard time for us." Jenna turned her head away for a moment, composing herself. "But things are better now. We're still dealing with the loss, and we still miss Marc . . . so much. But that day we all got on the plane, Andie and I were on our way home from her one-year checkup with the neurosurgeon. He'd given us such good news. I thought . . . I thought . . ."
"What?"
The tenderness in that word did her in. The dam broke. Sobs shook her as she forced out grief-filled words. "I thought things were finally changing . . . for the better. That we'd finally come out of the darkness."
Silence engulfed her as her tears were spent. Cole sat watching her, his eyes a shimmery mirror of emotion. His jaw clenching and unclenching.
"That's why you have to promise me, Cole."
He frowned. "Promise you what?"
"Promise that you'll take care of Andie if something happens to me."
"Jenna, nothing is going to happen to you." He reached out and took her chin in his hands, so her eyes met his determined gaze. "I'm going to get you off this mountain. Both of you. I promise."
She placed her hand over his. "Promise me, Cole. Please."
Their gazes locked. Something sparked to life in his eyes, and Jenna started. If she hadn't known better, she'd think it was . . . passion.
"I promise you, Jenna. I will take care of both of you."
Searching his eyes, Jenna was stunned by a powerful realization. She believed him. Trusted him. But more than that . . .
She wanted this man. For herself. And more than anything in that moment, she wanted to be held by him. To know she was safe and secure. "Cole, I—"
His lips covered hers. The kiss was brief, but so intense Jenna thought she might be consumed by it. When Cole pulled back, she struggled to think straight.
He pressed his forehead to hers. "I promise, Jenna."
She searched his eyes. "Thank you." Jenna tried to catch her breath, but it was no use. This man stirred up her heart.
A part of her deep inside, a part she thought had died forever when Marc was killed, screamed to come back to life. But instead, she broke the connection and turned her head away.
Cole moved back, and cleared his throat. "Let's slide you all the way out, so I can redress your leg."
Before she could reply, he scooted up to her head, grabbed hold of her sleeping bag, and slid her out into the open area. "Go ahead. Tell me more about Andie. It'll keep your mind off the pain while I take care of this."
His hands probed her leg and pain shot through her. She gasped, then clenched her teeth and did as he suggested.
"You know Marc was a brilliant computer programmer."
Cole gave a slight nod, but kept his focus on her wound.
She looked away and went on. "He could make a program for just about anything. And after he got out of the military, he was hired by the government to do some really secretive stuff. I don't know anything about it, but after his death, they contacted me for his research and the work he'd done. And they've been . . . insistent. Trouble is, I don't know where any of it is."
Cole's hands stopped moving and he raised his head.
"The phone calls and visits have been more frequent recently, and I'm tired of it. Marc made a lot of money, so he was obviously good at what he did. But that doesn't mean anyone has the right to hound us. And if he was working for them, shouldn't they know where his work is? Shouldn't they have his research? My husband is gone and Andie and I need to move on. We don't need to be harassed."
He studied her for a moment, looked like he was going to say something, then nodded and went back to work on her leg.
Jenna fell silent for a moment. What else should she tell him? "My best friend, Anesia, is the only other person who knows all the ins and outs of Andie's condition. She has copies of all the medical files and has been with me through all of this. In case something happens, she'll know what to do."
"Jenna, you're going to be fine—"
"Don't start with me, Cole. Just let me finish—" She bit her tongue. There she went. Getting all irritated with him again. And he was just trying to help.
"Yes, ma'am." His eyes held a slight twinkle.
"Oh, I'm sorry." Jenna laughed behind her hand. "I go overboard, I know. Just bear with me. My brain's getting fuzzy again." Her protective instinct as a mom must have given her a surge of adrenaline to make it this far. But the effort took its toll.
"Go on."
"This is important: Andie doesn't trust easily. Her best friend—Anesia's daughter, Zoya—means the world to her. And until
you
flew into our lives, Zoya was the only one besides me that Andie has let in since her father died."
"But Andie seems like she would have lots of friends." It was more a statement than a question.
"You're right. She has lots of friends. But she keeps most of them at a distance. Not in an unkind way, she just doesn't let too many people close. Does that make sense?"
He shrugged his shoulders and looked away.
"The point, Cole, is that Zoya and Andie have a special bond. It goes beyond anything I've ever seen."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, before we knew about Andie's brain condition, Zoya had what she described as a nightmare, but I think it was more a kind of premonition. Because she and Andie are so connected. She
knew
her best friend was about to go through a terrible time. From then on, she stuck to Andie like glue. Anesia wasn't sure what to make of it, so she told us about it saying Zoya was insistent. The bond between the two girls grew, and then a few days later, when we received Andie's diagnosis, we were shocked. We couldn't take it in, that a kid's nightmare could reflect real life."
Tears threatened as all the grief of losing Marc washed over her again. But she needed to finish. Needed to go on. "Zoya didn't make a big deal of it. She didn't even want anyone to know, but she was so confident God had given her Andie as a friend that she thought He must've allowed her to have the dream so she could be a better friend to Andie in her time of need."
"So what are you asking me? Not to make fun of Andie's friend? Or what?" Cole scratched his head.
"I'm asking you to try to understand the bond between these girls. Because there's more."
"Okay. Shoot."
"The end of Zoya's dream was that Andie would lose someone close to her." She inhaled sharply, preparing for the stab of pain she knew would come after the next words. "And then Marc died."
LEAPER
April 11
Fairbanks Memorial Hospital
Fairbanks, Alaska
5:13 a.m.
"Nothing, sir." Shadow stood at the foot of the bed. Face grim, jaw tight.
Leaper narrowed his eyes. "Where did you look?"
"The entire house. All the computers."
"Gray wouldn't have had anything so easily accessible."
"Yes, sir. But the wife's friend kept coming to check on the place."
"No one saw you?"
"No, sir."
He ran a hand over his whiskered face. "We'll need to do a complete sweep of the entire property, but for that, we'll need to . . .
occupy
any suspicious friends."
"Yes, sir. That may be a problem, sir. The friend, Anesia Naltsiine, has contacted the media. They've already discovered that the flight plan was canceled, and the controller at the tower caved when questioned about the flight taking off from Anchorage. He's in custody."
He slammed his hand on his leg. "North Korea is getting agitated. We need to deliver, and soon."
"Agreed, sir." Shadow approached him. "So when can you leave?"
"They won't say. But I plan on getting out of here tomorrow. Did you get everything I requested?"
"Yes, sir. Your little stunt in the helo the other day cost you, didn't it?"
"Just come get me tomorrow. 0900 sharp." With a wave of his hand, he dismissed the man.
Staring at the beige walls, he imagined something different than this life he'd chosen. No covert activity. No sinister plots, weapons, or selling to the highest bidder.
Yes, those beige walls were beginning to drive him mad. The sparse décor reminded him of a fresh start. Clean slate.
Leaper shook his head and shifted to stare out the window. He'd been involved too many years to grow a conscience now. But why would his mind keep drifting in that direction if he was a hardened, greedy, self-serving . . . criminal?
A new presence filled the room, and without even looking, he knew.
Viper.
The darkness of the man's heart poured out like his shadow. And as Leaper turned to give his boss his attention, the last glimmer of hope escaped and slipped through his fingers, like water trickling down the drain.