“I’m going to find Bethany before there’s three of them.”
Kicking the rug across the room and into the corner should’ve felt good, but it didn’t and it wouldn’t stop Mikhail from going after Bethany. Her face screwed up into a tight mask of anger. “If she turns up pregnant, it could be anybody’s I don’t care if it’s yours, but it had not better be Mikhail’s. I’m the only one going to carry his child.”
“You’re talking crazy.” Greg shrugged his jacket on, tossing Nina hers. “I’ll check it out tonight. He opened the door. “Let’s go before someone sees me with you.”
She’d have to watch his mood or up his medicine.
Bethany slowed her horse down to an easy trot through the thick snow and looked at Greg coming up alongside her on his horse. Big and imposing, he sat high and proud, very military. Greg held up the first item they’d found and leaning sideways, bringing his horse closer, he tucked it into her pouch hanging from the saddle, his fingers brushing along her calf. When he sat back, she noticed he didn’t have a pouch on his as she had. That was a relief; she’d assumed he was flirting.
The animal’s heavy hooves crunched through the crusted snow, all the sounds and the crisp scent in the air she loved made the evening pleasant. Who would’ve thought Greg a fun guy to hang around. Telling her how much he loved skiing and being a member of SWAT, and taking this part time gig as he called it allowed him his skiing fix, he lost that serial killer edge.
Digging out their first item, the red crystal, from deep in the snow beside the stump, he’d grinned like a little boy.
Exhilarated to be out there laughing and forgetting about everything ugly, Bethany let out a cleansing breath.
A snow fairy’s scavenger hunt was a cute idea. It had to be Anya or Simone’s suggestion.
She could grow to like those women. She did like them…a lot.
Aligning her horse with the trees, closing in around the path, she moved off the trail to the uneven ground. Cautiously moving her horse over the terrain, she didn’t want to chance breaking his legs.
Greg’s horse was a few feet behind her. Stroking the horse’s thick neck, she enjoyed the heat rising from his big body warming her thighs. She held the reigns in a tight grip, keeping him from walking onto the frozen pond as more guests caught up to her and Greg, their horses breathing and panting steam rising from their nostrils. She twined her gloved hand in the horse’s stiff, abundant mane. “Good boy,” she murmured, leaning over the pommel to reach between his ears, giving him a good scratch.
Bethany swung a leg back over the horse’s rump and hopped off to land on the ground, Greg instantly at her side to steady her descent. If he wasn’t creepy, he’d make a nice boyfriend. Not to her though.
Looping the reigns over the fence railing, beside the dense pine tree limbed high enough to shelter the tied up horse. She trekked alongside Greg through the fluffy snow following the big foot tracks she was certain were made from Mikhail’s guard or friend who tackled the photographer in the hallway of the chalet. Eating his sausage off the tip of a pocketknife, he tipped his chin up giving her a quick nod. This guy she figured was more Glenda’s taste, not Mark.
She shot a glance around the campsite searching the other guest’s faces. Where was Glenda? She and nosy, meddling Martha walked over to the campfire from the table with coffee. Lord she thought she’d avoided Martha and here was the gossip, ready to start blathering on about nothing.
Neither woman would join her with Greg at her side and she didn’t blame them he was intimidating.
That was who they should ask whom sent the email. If Martha didn’t know, it was a hoax. The woman knew more about things she shouldn’t than anyone at the office. She walked in Greg’s tracks past everyone surrounding the campfire and from the smirks and stares, many thought she was with Greg.
Mikhail’s attention bounced between her and Greg walking side by side.
They shuffled through the snow to the food stand. A rosy-cheeked woman held a pair of tongs over a pot of steaming water. The aroma of well-seasoned sausages filled the air, paired with the warm scent of hot cocoa and hot cider.
Thirsty and hungry, she tugged off her fur-lined gloves and accepted a cup of hot cider from Greg; the heat permeating her hands nicely. He’d gotten two sausages handing her one from the woman behind the steaming pot of water at the food stand. Thanking her, she smiled and turned to walk over to the fire. “Hi, anyone know what we’re supposed to do with the flags?” The big guy nodded toward the bag hanging off the tree. She knew him.
“Thank you. You’re Edward right?”
He stood and he was bigger than Greg was. Were all the men there on growth steroids? “My friends call me Crazy.”
“I’m going out on a limb and say they call you that because you’re crazy fun to hang out with.”
He looked at Mikhail, then Greg, then returned his attention to her face. “Who do you belong to?”
She pivoted on her heels; this had to be a media joke for the camera. Everyone had the same expression she had. What era did he fall out of asking such a Neanderthal question?
“Ah, excuse me? I’m certain I heard you wrong. Did you ask who I belong to?”
Edward nodded, ski jacket rustling under his thick arms folded over his chest.
“Ms. Cansler is with me.” Greg rushed forward resting a hand to her shoulders protectively. “Is there a problem?”
“I don’t know…let’s give it a minute,” he said.
Oh, this was going to get ugly.
Mikhail came through the crowd taking up a position at her side slipping a hand beneath her elbow, easing her away from Greg’s possessive touch. “Crazy, this is Greg, Bethany’s…partner, Greg, this is Edward Kingsley, or some know him as Crazy, a friend of Seth’s. They were in the military together.”
No one bothered to shake hands, they just stared at one another, salivating over their latest prey, her. Any minute now, they’d pull out clubs and start beating one another to see who had to drag her off into their cave.
Even with the showdown brewing, she was stuck on Edward’s caveman term ringing in her ears. “What do you mean by, belong?” She addressed Edward because she had to have heard him wrong. He wasn’t wearing a loincloth made of fur so he wasn’t prehistoric.
“Which one of these chumps are you with? Dating? Seeing? Kicking it with?”
Where was Mikhail digging these brutes up from, knuckle-draggers.com? “Neither man,” she said irritated they were all a bit possessive. “Mikhail’s my boss, and Greg’s my—” She thought of what to call him. Some already knew he was her guard. “They believe I sent a threat to Mikhail, Mr. Shamochernyi, and now I’m a suspect.”
“Did you send it?”
His nonchalant attitude burned her more than the arrogant, egotistical question.
She angled forward. “Go play with yourself in the middle of the freeway, Edward. If I’m going to threaten someone it won’t be from behind some silly keyboard.”
“How would you do it?”
Oh he was going too far.
Mikhail tucked her behind him. “That’s out of line.” She caught him counting the employees sitting around the fire and those watching him. “Treat Ms. Cansler with respect or get off my mountain. I don’t care who you are,” Mikhail argued tall and proud shielding her from Edward’s view.
What was happening?
Greg stood beside Mikhail eyeing Edward coldly. “She wouldn’t have to, with me around. Until charges have been filed, she’s presumed innocent,” he said. “Back away from Ms. Cansler or answer to me.”
Edward never moved. “Think so big guy?”
“I know so. Ms. Cansler hasn’t been charged with any crime,” Greg forced. “You have something to say, you address her through me.”
Seth walked up a casual peace sat in his face. “What did I walk in on?” Simone closed in beside Bethany.
“What’s going on?” she whispered hooking their arms together.
“Your friend Edward is stirring up trouble.”
“Watch, he’s very good at what he does and I bet he’s trying to show you something. I’m going to get something to eat. Let them do their jobs and your stalker will show themselves.”
Simone squeezed her hand then joined her husband at the long table.
Voices murmured around the campfire as Edward kept his eyes trained on her, but something bigger was happening. Greg stepped closer to Edward in a protective posture she was certain would start a fight between the two grizzly bears.
Edward peered around both men to look at her. “The fastest way to weed out the men from the boys is to insult a woman in public. Still think you don’t belong to anyone, Ms. Cansler? I find out things in my own way. Be safe out here, and if you run into any trouble, I’ll be around.”
Greg stepped to Edward and Mikhail pushed his way between the two men.
What hole had she fallen into? Mikhail and Greg were becoming teenagers before her eyes.
“On some planet this is cute, but I’m going to put my flag away and eat my sausage. You all are making a scene.”
Greg followed her to the tree, where she deposited the flag. They made their way over to a log where Greg swiped the fresh snow from the top. Bethany caught all the eyes on her then noticed Glenda watching Greg suspiciously. She hadn’t liked him since he shut her down in their suite.
Greg unzipped his jacket pulling her attention back to him.
“Good catch back there finding the covered tracks leading toward the tree.” Shifting on the log, Bethany held the mug of hot cider close to her face inhaling the sweet aroma. “I never would’ve noticed it under all the snow blown up around the sides of the stump let alone the crystal. How did you see that?”
Greg handed her a napkin for her sausage. “Military training,” he offered dismissively picking up the napkin that floated to the ground to tuck on the seat between them. “You learn to see through your sense of hearing and smell, not what your eyes tell you they see.” Scooting in closer, he continued, “Here let me show you how. Look through the steam rising off the food table. Don’t focus on the mist, pretend it’s not there. As you train your attention beyond what you can see, listen and you’ll hear other sounds become more pronounced. The sounds you’re left with add those to the picture forming before you in the distance.”
Swiveling on the stump Bethany strained her attention on the steam rising over the table. He was testing her making it impossible to focus and… massaging her temple.
She jerked away from his touch, catching Mikhail moving around the fire toward them and she gave him a thug face grimace not to come over. They’d had enough caveman show and wanted to handle him herself.
Mikhail shoved his hands into his pockets but moved to the hot cider table.
Tugging her cap down over her ears, she angled away from his hands now on her shoulders. “What are you doing?”
Greg tapped a finger next to his right eye the skin creased as he squinted. “When you do that you don’t focus you stare and when you stare, you lose perspective, shutting down your other senses. Seeing is more than visual. It’s being aware of what’s behind and on the side of you,” he urged shifting on his seat. “Focus, don’t alienate yourself from your surroundings. Relax the muscles around your eyes and let the picture take shape. You said you heard the man’s voice but can’t identify it. Stop trying. Don’t concentrate on the accent. Hear the tone when you try to remember. The weight he placed on his vowels are more important. Now try it with the mist and go to the center,” he urged. Warm air blew over her cheek with Greg at her back. He was a distraction. “Bethany you have to stop staring.” He smoothed a thumb across her brows. “Allow what’s in the background to become your focus.” His coat rustled against hers when he held his arm out past her face. Hard and solid, his chest pressed along her back as he pointed to the pot of boiling water. “What do you see now?”
She saw him flirting that's what she saw.
He was proficient, and yet he made sense. “You’re going to turn me into a forensic specialist if you keep this up.”
Greg grinned, scrubbing a booted foot into the snow resting his chin on his fist beside her shoulder staring off into the night. He was trying to rattle her, the way he had when she clipped his skis the other day. She wouldn’t be swayed, because finally somebody treated her like a person and not a victim.
He tugged on the brim of his baseball cap. “So you want me to do all the work in finding your kidnapper, by being the only one aware of my surroundings. I didn’t think you were just another pretty face looking to flirt your way out of trouble with your tight jeans, sweet perfume, and pretty smile.”
He’d been testing her since they met and flirting was just another test to see if he could distract her from the details around her. Well he was in for a rude awakening.
“I don’t wear tight jeans, Greg. Focus on keeping me alive and not my butt.”
“I said they were tight. I never said where,” Greg, taunted, his whiskered jaw catching wisps of her hair. “Now I’m curious to see if they’re tight on your ass or just a good fit.” Dang it, he’d tripped her up again. Greg downed the rest of his hot chocolate, wiping his mouth with his sleeve before tapping her shoulder. “Another lesson: Don’t make suggestions you don’t want people to focus on. Give an answer and stop talking.”
Her jeans were tight, but that little piece of eye candy was for Mikhail. “Process of elimination tells me sitting this close; you can’t see my behind so it better be my legs you’re referring to or we’re going to have a problem.”
He chuckled. “You’re tough, I like that. I hate seeing women afraid to fight back.”
She took a better look at her partner. The man was clever. But she wouldn't be rattled because that's all he was trying to do.
“Well now, aren’t you clever Officer Greg trying to sneak in a psych test?” She let her stare move through the crowd watching everyone watching her. They were all waiting to see her fail. Adjusting her hips on the log, Bethany leaned over her knees. Someone watched her from her right she could sense it. Through her peripheral, she caught Mikhail and his wink nearly took her out.
He had no problem focusing. The heat of his stare smoldered. The freak was turned on watching her. Her freak, but still a freak.