Once Burned, Twice Spy Page 5

I could only imagine what he must be feeling right now. Losing his hand would end both his military career and his music.

  Could he survive the loss?

  Would he even want to?

  I shuddered and dug.

  Chapter 6

  “Try it now,” I panted a few minutes later.

  Hellhound heaved upward accompanied by the sound of tearing fabric. Rolling free of the snow-covered vehicle with a grunt, he stumbled to his feet and pushed me ahead of him.

  “Get in,” he rasped.

  Panting, I scrambled into the driver’s seat of the Forester and across the console as he slid in behind me and slammed the door.

  With his right arm hanging limp in his lap, he reached left-handed for the keys dangling from the ignition. The engine fired immediately and he cranked the heat up to maximum and then turned on the dome light, bathing us in blessed light and an illusion of safety.

  “Oh God, Arnie!” Heedless of the console bruising my ribs, I flung my arms around him and buried my face in his icy parka.

  “It’s okay, darlin’. Everythin’s okay now.” His left arm came around me and I burrowed closer. Despite his confident words, I could feel his hand quivering on my back.

  I hugged him tighter, imagining the terror of being pinned alone in the frigid night, waiting to die.

  What if I had turned back only a few yards short of him? My breathing went choppy at the thought.

  “Shhh, now darlin’,” he soothed. “We’re gonna get outta this just fine, don’t worry.”

  Trembling, I drew back and pulled off his balaclava. My throat clenched at the sight of the white patch below his left eye and I yanked off my mitten to press my palm against his face. “You’ve got frostbite.”

  “Yeah, I figured. Couldn’t keep my face outta the wind. Lucky I had my ski mask on an’ my hood up or it woulda been worse.” He gave me a wink. “But hell, it ain’t like it’s gonna make me any uglier.”

  “You will never be ugly to me.” I swallowed hard as I lifted his right hand from his lap. “How… how is it?”

  “Gettin’ some prickles in my arm now. Circulation’s comin’ back.” His arm twitched and he hissed out a breath. “Can’t move it yet, though.” He hesitated. “Better take a look at the hand.”

  Bracing myself for the ghastly sight of waxy frozen flesh, I gently slid off his mitten.

  “How bad is it?” Arnie’s voice was firm and level, but he stared rigidly through the windshield, not looking.

  “It’s…” A sunrise of relief bloomed in my chest. “I… I think it’s okay.”

  “…Okay…?” He looked down tentatively.

  I stroked the undamaged skin, turning his hand to examine it from all angles. “Yeah. Not even any frostbite on your fingertips. It must have stayed warm in your mitten, underneath you.”

  He let out a breath, collapsing in the seat as though all his bones had turned to jelly. “Fuck me.” Eyes closed, he breathed evenly for a few seconds. “Fuck,” he repeated softly. “I figured for sure… all that time without circulation…” He gulped and drew an uneven breath. “Fuck.” He fell silent.

  My throat closed and tears prickled the back of my eyes as I hugged his hand to me and offered up a fervent prayer of thanksgiving to any god that might be listening.

  When I thought I could trust my voice, I said, “The way you were lying with your arm jammed under your chest, your bulletproof vest would have dug right into your armpit. It must have squished some nerves but not actually cut off the circulation.”

  “Yeah.” His arm twitched in my grasp again. “Hope it ain’t permanent,” he muttered.

  “I’m sure it’ll be better in a few minutes,” I lied. I wasn’t sure at all, but there was no way in hell I’d tell him that. “It’s just asleep. It’ll take a while to come back.”

  “Guess so,” he agreed without conviction. He drew a breath and let it out slowly. “Thanks for comin’ to get me, darlin’.”

  I cupped his dear homely cheek, the roughness of his beard tickling my palm. “I’ll always come to get you.”

  We looked deep into each other’s eyes.

  My heart skipped a beat.

  I broke the moment with a lascivious smile and an eyebrow-waggle. “I’ll always come for you, too,” I added, hoping the double entendre would be enough to stave off his commitment-phobia. And mine.

  Arnie grinned. “That’s what I wanna hear, darlin’.”

  I squeezed his hand before remembering that he probably couldn’t feel it, then returned it to his lap. “I’d better call Reggie.”

  Reggie answered on the first ring. “What’s your status?”

  “Both of us are safe and warm,” I said, ignoring my own shivering. “How about you?”

  “Same. What’s your plan?”

  “Um…” I booted my brain back into gear. “I know our original plan was to keep…”

  I almost said ‘the weapons in a different vehicle’ before remembering we weren’t on a secured line.

  “…separate vehicles,” I continued. “But…” I shot Hellhound a look. “Arnie, can you walk about half a mile?”

  “Yeah. Nothin’ wrong with my legs.”

  Oh, God, please don’t let anything be wrong with his arm, either…

  “We’re coming to you,” I told Reggie. “Arnie and I can’t dig the Forester out, and I don’t want our group separated.” A violent shiver shook me, my sweat-soaked clothes clammy against my skin.

  “Okay. Call me when you’re leaving.”

  “Will do.”

  When I disconnected, Hellhound frowned at me. “When did ya eat last, darlin’?”

  “Too long ago.” My shivering intensified.

  He twisted to lift a sodden ringlet off my forehead left-handed. “An’ you’re soakin’ wet. We ain’t goin’ anywhere ’til you’re dry an’ fed.” He jerked his chin at the back seat. “I got dry clothes an’ MREs.”

  My overstressed brain didn’t immediately identify the military acronym, and Hellhound grinned at my blank look and elaborated. “Meals, Ready to Eat. The Three Lies: They ain’t meals, they ain’t ready, an’ they sure as hell ain’t edible.”

  My laugh came out jerky with my shivering. “At this point I’m not going to do a gourmet critique.”

  “I’ll get ’em.” He got out and went around to the rear door, returning in a few moments with a neatly-folded T-shirt and sweatshirt and a small cardboard box.

  While I shivered through a clothing change, he tore open the cardboard box one-handed with the help of his teeth. The box disgorged a foil pouch and a plastic envelope, which he assembled with a bit of water before leaning it upright against the console.

  Glorious comprehension flared. The meal had a chemical heater. Thank God.

  I picked up the box and hugged it to me.

  Hellhound chuckled. “Careful, you’ll suck all the heat outta it an’ your rations’ll be cold.”

  “I’ll take that chance.” I embraced the warm box fervently.

  In short order I was gobbling the hot spaghetti. When it was all gone I fell back in the seat. “God, I needed that!” I shot an accusing glance at Hellhound. “That wasn’t nearly as bad as you said.”

  He grimaced. “Try eatin’ it for two months straight.”

  “Okay, that would make me puke,” I agreed. “But it wasn’t bad for a one-off.”

  “Helps to be starvin’.” He gave me a searching look. “How ya doin’?”

  “Better.” The spaghetti nestled in my belly, radiating warm strength. I blew out a long breath, letting it chase the icy tension from my limbs. “How’s your arm?”

  He managed to lift it several inches before it fell back into his lap. “Buzzin’ like a sonuvabitch. Like when ya hit your funny bone. Feels like my fingers are gonna explode.”

  “That’s probably good,” I said with all the fake confidence I could muster. “At least you can feel your hand now, right?”

  “Yeah.” He changed the subject. “So, can ya
make it back to the Hummer?”

  The thought of abandoning our bright warm oasis for the dark and deadly cold made me shudder.

  “Yes,” I said firmly. “We’ll have to carry the weapons. How are they packed?”

  “Coupla duffels.” Hellhound gave me a half-smile. “Lucky they’re portable. Last time we had a fuckin’ crate that took up the whole damn cargo bay an’ weighed about three hundred pounds.”

  My ears perked up. “So is this conference an annual thing?”

  “Usually, but this is a special meetin’.” He shrugged. “When that terrorist threat came through last month, Stemp hadta tell Five Eyes we had the ultrasound death ray since it was all over the fuckin’ media. He was some pissed when he found out it was fuckin’ hoax an’ he’d spilled the intel for nothin’.”

  “I can imagine.”

  And I could. ‘Pissed’ would be an understatement. Not that Stemp would reveal any emotion, but I knew him well enough to guess.

  Hellhound chuckled. “Yeah. But he’s such a hardass bastard, he ain’t givin’ up somethin’ for nothin’. We’re showin’ ’em our death ray, but they gotta pony up their latest tech, too. It oughta be an interestin’ conference.”

  Queasy fear twisted my stomach at the thought of five countries’ deadliest weapons together in one place.

  I swallowed hard. “Um… yeah, I guess ‘interesting’ is one word for it.” I pulled up my damp parka hood and wound my wet scarf around my face. “Well, let’s do it. I’ll call Reggie and let him know we’re leaving.”

  Trudging back through the storm, I shifted Hellhound’s duffel bag on my shoulder and shone my flashlight at the sky. “Shit. It’s snowing again.”

  Hellhound grunted. “Must be that next storm Stemp was talkin’ about.” He stopped, rolling his shoulders. “Hey, darlin’, can ya pull my second duffel up a bit? My arm still ain’t workin’ right.”

  “I can take another bag,” I volunteered.

  “Nah. Ya got enough to carry.” He let out a breath as I moved the strap of one of the heavy bags higher on his shoulder. “An’ anyhow, weapons are my responsibility. I gotta maintain the chain a’ custody.”

  “Nobody would ever know if I carried it for a few minutes,” I argued as we moved forward again, but I was secretly glad he’d shouldered the largest burdens. His duffel bag wasn’t heavy, but my muscles were quivering from cold, adrenaline, and the effort of shifting several hundred pounds of snow.

  God, if I could only rest. Just for few minutes…

  I stumbled over a drift and fell to my knees.

  “Ya okay, darlin’?” Hellhound asked when I didn’t get up immediately.

  “Yeah.” I pushed myself to my feet, shivering again. “J-just about d-done for, though.” For some reason that prospect didn’t worry me. I could just lie down in this nice soft snowbank and sleep forever…

  “Keep movin’, darlin’.” He nudged me forward. “We gotta be almost there by now. Remember, hypothermia makes ya sleepy an’ it fucks with your mind. Keep fightin’.”

  “Right.” As I trudged forward again my cell phone rang, and I fumbled it out of my waist pouch with numb fingers. At the sight of the call display I groaned. “Shit, it’s Nichele.”

  I was about to decline the call when Hellhound snapped, “Answer it!” I frowned confusion at him, but he gestured vigorously at the phone. “Hurry up, answer it! An’ keep walkin’.”

  Too exhausted to think for myself, I obeyed. “Hi, Nichele.”

  “Hey, girl, what’s new? Since you didn’t call me this afternoon, I’m assuming you’re still at home…?”

  “Oh. Uh…” Searching for a response, I blinked into the driving snow; but my instant-bullshit superpower seemed to have deserted me.

  “Aydan? Are you still there? Hello?”

  “Uh. Y-yeah, I’m still h-here. Um…” It was no use. My brain wouldn’t work, and all I had was the truth. “Actually, I ended up h-having to go to a b-business thing in C-Calgary with a b-bunch of people from w-work.”

  “You’re in Calgary? That’s awesome, girl! Can you ditch the boring business stuff and come shopping?”

  “Um, n-no. I’m actually n-not in Calgary yet. I’m s-stuck on the r-road.”

  She sucked in a breath. “Omigod, Aydan, you’re outside? In this horrible blizzard?” The phone crackled, and Dave’s deep voice overlaid Nichele’s.

  “What happened? Are you okay?”

  “F-fine. J-just hit some b-black ice and slid off the r-road.”

  “Where are you? I’ll come and get you.”

  “Thanks, D-Dave, but I’ve got t-two vehicles in the d-ditch, four other p-people, and a whole b-bunch of luggage and c-crap. We’ll just hunker d-down and w-wait it out…”

  “No. Big storm’s blowing in tonight. You don’t want to be out there. Is your car still driveable?”

  “Um… yeah, I th-think so… but I’m not d-driving my c-car. I’ve got a H-Hummer. And Arnie’s F-Forester is in the d-ditch, too.”

  “Oh.” Dave’s response was guarded, and I knew he was processing that information and concluding that this wasn’t an ordinary business trip. “No problem,” he added, fortunately managing a tone that wouldn’t make Nichele too curious for her own good. “My truck can pull anything out. Where are you?”

  “No, D-Dave, I don’t w-want you to-”

  “Time’s a-wasting,” he interrupted. “Tell me where you are, or I’ll just head for Silverside and hope I find you.”

  “But the r-road is c-closed. N-nobody’s driven by us, and w-we’ve been here for n-nearly an hour.”

  “No problem. Me and my truck have made it through worse, and I know all the back roads. Tell me where you are.”

  I blew out a breath of mingled frustration and relief. “We’re s-southbound on Highway N-nine, somewhere s-south of Highway Five-Sixty-Six.”

  “I’ll find you. Leaving now.”

  He disconnected and Nichele took over again, badgering me with worried questions that took every ounce of my remaining brainpower to answer or deflect.

  Time slowed as I trudged on, fatigue dragging at my body. Having asked ‘are you okay’ in every possible variation, Nichele switched to Bridezilla mode. I zoned out under the flood of wedding details, hauling my attention back to the conversation and mumbling semi-coherent answers only when she asked a direct question.

  My feet were clumsy weights at the ends of my legs, and I abandoned the attempt to walk in a straight line. Over and over Arnie nudged me gently back on course.

  At least I’d stopped shivering. I drew a breath of relief as warmth crept into my limbs. My eyelids drooped, but Nichele was still talking. Her words blurred together and my answers shortened to mumbles.

  Finally the Hummer’s taillights glowed faintly through the snow. Thank God. Safe at last.

  “Haffa go, N’chele,” I slurred.

  “Okay, be careful. Stay warm…”

  I mumbled, “Mmhm… Mmhm…” to her final admonishments until she hung up at last.

  Made it.

  Eyes dropping shut, I sank down into the soft welcoming snow.

  Chapter 7

  “No way, darlin’. Get up.” An insistent hand clamped under my armpit, pulling painfully.

  I struggled feebly against it. “Jus’ rest f’r a minnit…”

  “KELLY! ON YOUR FEET! MOVE IT!”

  Hellhound’s full-throated bellow and yank on my arm squeezed out a tiny trickle of adrenaline. I stumbled to my feet.

  “Wha’?” I moaned. “Was jus’ res’n’…”

  “Can’t rest yet, darlin’. Get in the Hummer. Just a few more steps. Come on.”

  “…’Kay.” I plodded forward to the driver’s door. Pulling open the door took the last of my strength, and I made it into the driver’s seat only with the aid of a vigorous boost from Hellhound’s knee. He closed the door behind me, and a moment later a flurry of snowflakes and a slam indicated that he was safely in the back seat.

  I went limp, ev
ery exhausted muscle giving up simultaneously.

  “Kelly?”

  I ignored Reggie’s questioning voice.

  Rest.

  Sleep…

  “Kelly! Hey! Talk to me!” Somebody shook my shoulder. Reggie again. Why wouldn’t he just piss off?

  “She’s hypothermic.” Hellhound’s disembodied voice floated from the back seat. “Get that wet gear off her an’ give her a hot drink.”

  “We don’t have anything hot.”

  “There’re MREs in that black duffel she’s holdin’. Grab the FRH outta one of ’em.”

  More acronyms. My mind ground to a halt.

  The duffel bag jerked, accompanied by Reggie’s close-range cursing. “Can’t get it… Useless fucking hand…”

  “Let me,” Murray’s voice chimed in.

  After considerable jostling and a period of time I didn’t register, the fog began to clear from my mind.

  “Keep drinking,” Reggie urged.

  I obediently took another swallow, hot liquid burning my tongue. Violent shivers seized me.

  “Good, she’s finally shivering,” Reggie said.

  “About time,” Hellhound agreed with satisfaction.

  “Y-you d-don’t n-need to s-sound s-so g-goddamn h-h-happy about it!” I snapped. “I’m f-freezing m-my f-fucking ass off h-here!”

  “Yeah, Kelly, we do get to sound goddamn happy about it,” Reggie countered. “That means you’re warming up. You were too damn cold to shiver before.”

  As if my brain had finally thawed enough to work again, I grasped their meaning at last. “Oh. R-right. H-hypothermia.” I gulped some more hot liquid, a repulsive too-sweet fruity thing. “G-God, wh-what is this sh-shit?”

  “Just another treat from your MRE,” Hellhound said cheerfully. “Drink up, darlin’.”

  “G-good Lord, it’s d-disgusting.” I shuddered in between my shivers, but kept swigging.

  At last my trembling eased to a constant fine vibration. I gulped the last of the hot drink and fell back in the seat. “Damn, that was close. Thanks for keeping me going, Arnie.”

  “No problem. Glad you’re back with us, darlin’.”

  “And thanks for making me answer Nichele’s call. It never would have occurred to me to get Dave to come and rescue us.”