you use this place a lot?”
“No, but I know it’s stocked with things we might need to keep going.” She lifted two pairs of snowshoes from a rack.
“We’re hoofing it from here?”
“This is heavy snow and not compacted down. It’s causing the sled to use more gas than normal to get us through. I almost thought we wouldn’t make it here at all.”
“There’s no gas here?”
She slammed a cabinet door then opened another. “Not that I can find. I’ll make a note to have it stocked.” Sylvie looped ropes over her shoulder. “When I was younger the McKeeny Pass was a place I would come to, to silence the world.”
“Silence? Those sleds are the loudest things I’ve ever heard, and I work in construction.”
She moved on to a drawer. “I guess the motor never bothered me, but I know there are people who hate it. Same thing with the racetrack.”
“And yet that’s not a part of your life anymore.”
“Things change. Times change. Responsibilities change.”
“Right, and your responsibilities dictate your days now, including protecting me. It doesn’t matter how much you hate them.”
“Hate is an emotion, and in this job there’s no room for emotions. I make the best decisions I can with what is given to me.”
“I’ve got news for you. I haven’t been given to you, so you don’t need to view me as one of your responsibilities to handle.”
The whiny pine of a snowmobile drifted from the east.
“You’re wrong. You’re in my jurisdiction. I am responsible for what happens to you.” She pushed the snowshoes into his arms. “Now let’s move. That sled is getting closer.”
Sylvie whipped her right-hand glove off and retrieved her gun from her holster. The .45 Glock consumed her small hand as she readied it to shoot. He closed the door as she led the way back to the sled. He dropped the snowshoes into the storage under the seat and waited for her to climb on.
“You’re driving. I’m riding shotgun. Just follow the pass until it ends. If we make it that far, we’ll stop and I’ll give you directions from there. Pray that we do.” With that she dropped her visor and communication ended.
Ian climbed on and started the engine. The gas gauge indicated less than a quarter tank. He closed his eyes and said a prayer to the only Father he’d ever had. The only Father who cared about him and promised blessings beyond Ian’s imagination. Even when Ian didn’t deserve them.
Ian hit the gas and moved across the pass as fast as the machine could get through the treacherous level of snow. He felt Sylvie grab hold of his waist with one hand and felt where she held her gun tucked against his back. But that meant her glove was still off. Her hand had to be freezing with the frigid cold and no covering, even held protectively between them. Would she be able to pull the trigger?
He pushed on so she wouldn’t have to.
The only consolation was the assassin would be having just as much trouble getting through the elements as them.
The sled’s high beam flickered and dimmed. The motor strained. The end of the road neared for them whether the pass came to an end or not.
Out of the corner of Ian’s left eye, he saw movement come at them. His pursuer had found a faster way up here to cut them off. Ian yanked the sled to his left to cut in front of the other rider.
He gave the sled the last surge of gas to power them ahead. The motor screamed and the assassin’s headlight came up on the right side. One shove over and Ian might be able to end this right now. But that risked sending them over the edge right along with him. Still, Ian had to lose the guy, but maybe breaking away wasn’t the answer.
He let off the gas and pressed the brake controls, not enough to stop completely, but to slow down enough that the two sleds rode side by side. The two drivers looked at each other, their visors hiding their identities. Ian reached his right hand out as Sylvie’s gun appeared over his shoulder aimed at the other rider. The hitman reached for the gun as Ian reached for the guy’s kill switch.
The round red button that Sylvie had used on his own sled before depressed easily and shut down the machine, lights and all, in an instant. In the same moment, Ian kicked his foot out and sent the sled into a flip. The driver went flying over his handle controls and landed in the snow ahead of them.
Ian’s machine puttered by him as the guy reached for them. Please God, just a little farther to give us some space. Ian managed to squeeze out enough gas for another few hundred feet. He moved the vehicle down to the left behind some trees and he and Sylvie made fast work strapping on their snowshoes.
They lifted their visors to talk. No need to whisper since the assassin’s motor was back in full swing and would be coming up on them real soon.
“Do you know where we are?”
“Yes, but we have to keep moving. There’s a home nearby.”
“Someone lives up here on this mountain?”
Sylvie didn’t reply and Ian took that as a sign to keep moving. They hoofed it for what could only be another mile. The sound of the motor ceased, which meant the guy either gave up his chase or was following on foot. Snow fell down on them, first a few light spattering flakes, but quickly Ian’s visor required swipe after swipe. His fingers numbed quickly even in his gloves. A look to his left and he saw Sylvie still held the gun, her hand exposed. He reached for the gun and had to pry it from her hand. Not because she fought him, but because it had frozen to her skin. He took his own glove off and pushed her small hand into it. His would be warmer than the one in her pocket.
Ian pushed up her visor and witnessed pain on her face. She fought it with her every breath and averted her gaze to his right. A glance that way and he saw a rustling in some snow-covered shrubs.
A bear, perhaps? Great. If the killer and the snowstorm weren’t enough, now they would have a preying animal on their heels.
Ian lifted the gun in his hand and took aim at a creature barreling at them full force. The animal bounced up and out of the snow, flying through a blinding flurry of whiteness. The rapidly falling snow made it impossible to tell what kind of animal had set their sights on them.
Ian could do only one thing.
As he pressed the trigger to unload the bullet, Sylvie steamrolled herself directly at him, sending them both sinking into the snow.
Ian quickly rolled over to protect her from the approaching threat. Figures the woman would want to protect the animal. “Do your responsibilities extend to protecting the creatures in your jurisdiction, too?”
The animal landed hard on Ian’s back, putting its whole weight on him and not giving an inch.
Sylvie glanced over Ian’s shoulder, her eyes wide.
“Is it a bear?” Ian asked low and controlled. Sweat beaded up on his forehead.
A giggle erupted from Sylvie, and Ian realized
