just a second to reach into the pack and pull out a pair of goggle-like glasses, sliding them onto her nose. Then he tugged the zipper higher, snapping the front of the jacket tight so not a whisper of cold air could touch anything but the little bits of her face still exposed.
Alexia wasn’t sure she’d ever felt so protected. So cared for.
“Do whatever I tell you,” he said softly, his gaze intense as he stared into her eyes. “Stay low, follow in my exact steps. I’ll get you home safe and sound. I promise.”
Unable to believe otherwise when he was looking at her like this, she nodded.
“I need you to really trust me, Alexia. Not because I’m the lesser of two evils, but because you have complete faith that I’ll keep you safe. That I know exactly what I’m doing, that I’m damn good at it and that you know without a doubt that I’m going to get you out of here.”
The huge lump in her throat made it hard to swallow, so Alexia just nodded instead of speaking.
“You’re sure?”
She took a deep breath, then swallowed again. “I trust you, completely,” she promised breathlessly.
His smile was like the rising sun. Warm, vivid and beautiful. She melted. Then, his hands still on the zipper of her jacket, he tugged her closer. Bent his head and kissed her.
Oh, baby.
His lips were as soft, as delicious, as magical as she’d remembered. The kiss was short, way too short, but so sweet she would have cried if she wasn’t afraid the tears would freeze on her face.
He slowly pulled back, his eyes still locked on hers. Then he flicked a button in the side of the goggles, activating a buzzing in her ears. Communication device, she realized.
“What’s that for?” she whispered, her breath an icy mist between them. “Luck?”
“I don’t need luck, sweetheart. I’m the best. That’s why I was handpicked to rescue you. That—” he kissed her again, just a quick brush of his chilly lips against hers “—that was because I’ve missed you.”
Nothing like fogging a woman’s brain and sending her heart into a nosedive of delight to get her to climb out a tiny window into an enemy-filled snow-hell.
She didn’t know if she should admit she’d missed him or not. If she did, it’d be like a deathbed confession, said because she knew she’d never have another chance. Call her superstitious, but she’d rather wait to make any emotional declarations until they were safe.
“Lucky me,” she said instead, putting all the things she couldn’t say into her smile and hoping he understood. “I’m glad I rate the best.”
* * *
BLAKE WISHED she hadn’t smiled.
It touched something inside him, ratcheted the stakes so much higher.
He was here to do a job, and he couldn’t do that job if he let emotions in. Any kind of emotions. The key to a successful mission was a clear mind, the ability to think three steps ahead and a solid handle on the outcome, while keeping a fluid sense of the steps in between.
He’d learned early in his career that the only way to succeed was to shut out fear. Worrying, in any form, was the equivalent of strapping a bull’s-eye on his back.
He shouldn’t have kissed her.
He was on a mission.
She was his mission.
Kissing the rescue target was totally against protocol.
He hadn’t been able to resist.
Blake hefted his pack onto his shoulders again, then checked the time.
Two minutes.
“Let’s go.”
He made sure she was situated on the chair, then grabbed the windowsill and pulled himself up. He glanced at her again.
“Promise. You do exactly what I say.”
“Promise.”
“Even if I say run, without me, you’ll do it. The coordinates, a compass and a GPS are in your jacket. Don’t take it off.”
Her eyes were huge behind the protective lenses. Her nod was a jerk of her chin. But her lips were pressed in a determined line, and if her hands were shaking inside her gloves, the tremor was mild.
She’d hold up.
Blake glanced at the compound again, then reached down to pull the cloth, embedded with a tiny communication wire, across her lower face. Then he did the same to his own.
“Ready?” he whispered.
She gave a tiny start, indicating that she’d heard him through her headphones, and nodded again.
“Then let’s rock.”
He flipped the switch on his lenses, triggering the heat sensors. Two guards on the east side, one on the west. He glanced at his watch.
One minute.
One hand holding his weapon, Blake shimmied through the window, gripping the stones surrounding it and pulling himself free. He reached in to aid Alexia, but she’d already grabbed ahold of the sill and had herself halfway out. He took her hand, pulling her up so her toes were balanced on the sill and the rest of her against the stone wall, then bent low to snag the rope.
“Wait until I’m down, then follow,” he said quietly.
Her gaze ricocheted around the compound as if she was watching for the devil to come riding in. But she nodded. Using the rope, his back to the wall so he could watch for threats, he quickly lowered himself to the ground. He sank into the snow to midcalf.
It only took him a second to reach into the small white pack he’d stashed at the base of the wall and pull out the snowshoes. Fully alert, his finger still on the trigger of his revolver, he swiftly stepped into them.
“Go,” he told Alexia.
She flew down the wall. He winced twice as her body bounced off the stones, but she didn’t slow. Clearly she wanted the hell out of here.
He liked giving a lady what she wanted.
“Put these on,” he told her as soon as she’d released the rope. She squinted at the snowshoes, then nodded. He made sure she knew what she was doing as she put the first one on. He glanced at his watch as she finished the second.
One minute past. The explosion should have already happened, providing cover for their escape. He scanned the guards again. Still in place.
Recalling one of Phil’s favorite sayings, no worries, no bull’s-eyes, he reached into his boot and pulled out his backup Glock.
“Ready?” he asked Alexia, giving her a once-over.
“Ready.”
