him ease her hips against his, and shifted her attention from his eyes to his mouth.
Although her immunity to most men’s charms was unparalleled, she suspected Nick would be a different story. As if to verify that fear, alarm bells began to clamor in her head. She planted her palms on his chest. “No, Nick, wait.”
He stopped with his mouth a tantalizing inch above hers. “What am I waiting for, Sasha?”
She realized the fist she had wrapped in his shirt was hauling him toward her rather than pushing him away. “I have no idea.” And, smiling, she yanked his mouth onto hers.
“A SERIAL KILLER? Here? In Painter’s Bluff?” An agitated Max raked his fingers through his hair. “I don’t believe it. People said a woman died up at Painter’s Rock. No one mentioned the word murder. Sasha, we need to—”
“Drive up to the site and do the job Skye hired us to do,” Sasha finished for him. She tossed her pack in the back of the Land Rover. “You can ride with me if you want to.”
“Not a chance. Two vehicles are better. I’ve heard Smoking Gun Pass is tricky.”
“And steep,” Sasha recalled. “Skye said to use chains.”
A man in a navy-blue parka began making his way across the street. Sasha spied the badge and wondered what obstacle he was going to place in her path.
“You Sasha Myer?”
She nodded, slammed the door. “You must be Sheriff Pyle. Dana mentioned you last night.”
“I’ll bet he did. You seen Nick today?”
Seen, argued with and kissed. “He checked my room for intruders at the crack of dawn. Didn’t find any.”
“Give us time.” The sheriff’s surprisingly astute gaze shifted to the man at her side. “You’d be Skye’s engineer, then.”
“Max Macallum.” He held the hair out of his eyes with a gloved hand. “Is it true you’re looking for a serial killer?”
“Just a murderer at this point. We’ll get to the serial part later.” The sheriff’s smile had a wolfish edge. “You sure are pretty, Ms. Myer.”
“Sasha, and thank you.” She glanced past his shoulder. “Where’s Nick?”
“Questioning out-of-towners. He wants one of my deputies to keep an eye on you.”
“Why doesn’t that surprise me?”
“I decided to do it myself.”
She’d half expected this would happen, but it was still worth a protest. “I have a rifle, Sheriff. It’s licensed and in good working order. Nick doesn’t seem to grasp the fact that I don’t need anyone riding shotgun for me. I can take care of myself perfectly well.”
Pyle made a sign of negation. “Nick and I agreed. It was either me or Dana, and I won the toss.” He moved closer. “This is one mean dude we got here. It’s possible he’s killed eight women so far, and if he has, there’s no reason to think he’ll stop. You look a lot like the last victim. This is a small town. I’m willing to bet he’s taken notice.”
“I feel so reassured.” Sasha felt eyes boring into her head and, without turning, said, “Stop gaping, Max. It’s a long story that involves blond hair and Scandinavian ancestry. He won’t come after you.”
Max cleared his throat. “Should we maybe try to contact Skye and explain the situation?”
The wind kicked up, lifting Sasha’s hair beneath the ice-blue hat her grandmother had knitted for her last Christmas. “I’ve tried to call Skye four times this morning. Her service says she’s out of range. Let’s do our jobs and let Sheriff Pyle and Nick do theirs.”
Max opened his mouth, then closed it and slumped. “I’ll get my keys.”
He looked so miserable that Sasha gave his back an encouraging pat as he trudged past. “It’ll be fine.”
The sheriff emitted a grunt that might have been a chuckle. “You want reassurance, talk to our cold case investigator. The Snow Globe Killer only goes for women. Like the lady said, you’re safe enough.”
“Unless his aim’s off,” Nick remarked, coming up behind them.
“I’ll be back,” Max promised Sasha, edging away. “Phone Skye again while I’m gone, okay? She won’t expect you to risk your life for the sake of a resort.”
Sasha ignored him and turned her attention to Nick. His expression was impassive as usual, and showed no sign of the kiss she’d given him this morning. “I don’t need a babysitter, Detective.”
“You’re going to tell me you can shoot a gun, handle treacherous driving conditions and defend yourself against all comers, but so could Belinda Nordby. She was the fifth victim. And a cop,” he said before Sasha could ask. “She’d been one for seven years. This isn’t a game, Sasha.”
She didn’t flinch, but countered with an even, “I talked to my partner Regan Streete after you left this morning. She wants me to come back to Denver. She says Tommy can work with Skye.”
“But you said no.”
“Tommy designs inspired office buildings, but he’s a techno geek who doesn’t quite grasp the concept of fusion between structure and land, and I don’t think Skye wants the MGM Grand up here.”
“What about Regan?”
“She has a condo development and two restaurants on her plate. This is my project, Nick. I do hotels and houses.”
From the sidewalk, Sheriff Pyle grunted, “You’re not going to talk her out of it, Nicky. Best to let me go up there with her while you ask your questions down here.”
She sent him a quick smile. “You see? Even the sheriff understands me.”
Before she could move, Nick boxed her between himself and the Land Rover. It both amused and frustrated her to discover that she actually felt breathless.
With his eyes locked on hers, he lowered his head. “Don’t try losing him in Smoking Gun Pass, Sasha.”
“You can’t lose someone in a mountain pass, Nick….” She regarded him through her lashes. “Can you?”
“Stick to your route. And your promise. Back before dark, agreed?”
She considered teasing him, but then she pictured Kristiana Felgard in a cold room and nodded. “Don’t worry, Max won’t want to stay even that long.”
“And you know Max how well?”
“We had our company Christmas parties together.”
“That’s it?”
“He borrowed some liquor from our bar.”
“So he’s a close friend then.”
She
