They’d been in the forest for five hours, and Alex was ready to go home. It had never stopped raining. He’d slipped twice, tripped over countless roots, and stepped in mud up to his ankles. So much for the new boots. An hour ago, his right leg had started to cramp. A physical reminder that he was there for only one reason. Get to the plane ASAP. Not to get distracted by a woman. Not to enjoy a chat in the rain.
There could be danger on that plane that he needed to meet face-to-face. He had to be mentally ready.
Alex’s leg was still aching, but there was no way he was gonna mention it. He wasn’t going to slow the team’s pace even if he thought he might be wasting his time. No one could have survived that plane crash. If someone did, he was going to drown in all this fucking rain.
Kiana chose that moment to rocket back to Brynn from some point far ahead on the trail. The dog’s gorgeous fur was soaked, and her feet looked like she’d been dancing in chocolate sauce. She galloped by him, and Alex’s gaze followed her to Brynn as she greeted the dog at the end of the line.
“Good-looking dog. What is she?” he asked Ryan.
“Mostly Alaskan malamute. Brynn says her blue eyes show there’s crossbreeding somewhere in her line.”
The slight twang in Ryan’s voice made Alex think of the old television show Hee Haw. Ryan was an interesting blend of surfer, country cop, and polite mama’s boy. The guy seemed to genuinely like the outdoors. Always smiling, rarely griping about the rain and muck. Just like Brynn.
“Brynn usually do trips like this?”
Ryan shrugged. “We all do a couple dozen a year. Most aren’t as involved as this. Some last half a day.”
“How do you fit in a job with a crazy schedule like that?”
Ryan dropped back to walk beside Alex. Earlier the younger man had been helpful, pointing out various animal signs and identifying plants even though Alex had never asked. Alex was more than ready for a distraction.
“Well, for Thomas and Jim and me, our departments have committed us to when we’re needed. Each police department has at least one man in SAR.”
“And Brynn? She’s not a cop.” Alex knew that in his gut.
“Nah, she works for the medical examiner’s office. She’s a forensic nurse. Death investigator. Comes out to our scenes when there is a suspicious death and we need an investigator with medical knowledge. She’s good.”
“Like CSI?” Alex would have never connected the sunny woman with such a grisly job.
Ryan choked out a laugh. “Don’t let her hear you say that. She hates that show. No high heels for that woman.”
Brynn in heels and a smile popped into Alex’s mind. The image looked good to him. Real good.
“Where’ve you competed in triathlons?” Ryan asked with eager interest. “Hawaii?”
Alex pressed his lips together and glanced away. He’d never entered a triathlon in his life. “What? What makes you think I did triathlons?”
Ryan’s blue eyes widened. “On the phone. Your boss told Collins you did triathlons. That’s how he convinced him you were fit enough to join our team.”
Alex snorted. “He exaggerated. Wanted to get me on your team. He knew I’d keep up. Mentioning triathlons was probably the fastest way to convince the sheriff.”
Ryan paused to absorb that reason then laughed. “Shit. That was cocky.”
“Yeah, he’s been known to say whatever it takes to get the job done.”
“By the way, are you armed?” Ryan’s eyes scanned Alex like he could see through his jacket to the gun below his arm, the second gun he’d discreetly tucked in his borrowed pack, and the knife in his pocket. The backpack was rubbing at odd spots on his shoulder holster and he wished he hadn’t worn the heavy 9 mm Beretta. When he had a chance, he’d switch it with the lighter SIG and belt holster in his pack.
“Yeah. Why?”
Ryan shrugged. “Never know if we might meet up with a bear or cougar.”
Fuck. “Aren’t they hibernating or something? It’s only March.” Alex had never shot an animal in his life. When he’d packed his weapons that morning he hadn’t been thinking of bears. Maybe he’d keep the Beretta out.
“Never know. I’ve seen black bears in January out here.”
“Hungry?” Alex scanned the forest. He couldn’t see deeper than twenty feet in most places. How many animals were lurking, watching them?
Ryan grinned at the higher pitch of Alex’s question. “Nah, usually more curious or scared of us. Just wave your arms at them. Make a lot of noise.”
“I thought you’re supposed to play dead.”
“That’s when you’re caught by a grizzly. You won’t see grizzly around here.”
Alex winced. Could he tell a black bear from a grizzly? He hadn’t been to the zoo in thirty years.
Ryan tipped his head at Thomas. “Thomas has met up with grizzlies. He’s originally from Alaska.” Ryan’s blue eyes lit up. “He’s got this great .44 Magnum Ruger Redhawk. Huge revolver that he carried up there in case of a grizzly encounter.”
Alex pictured the big man hiking past a bear, ignoring the angry animal the same way he ignored Alex. As far as Alex had seen, nothing fazed Thomas Todoroff.
“Aim for the brain,” Ryan added helpfully.
“Thanks a lot,” Alex muttered.
“Take a break, guys.” Jim’s words carried over Ryan and Alex and up to Thomas, who immediately halted and slung off his pack, hooking it on a nearby sturdy branch. The big guy squatted on his heels, pulled out some sort of energy bar, and began eating.
Jim held up a huge, oatmealy looking bar wrapped in plastic and cocked his eyebrows in question to the other team members. Alex, Thomas, and Brynn shook their heads, but Ryan nodded and Jim tossed him the bar. Ryan unwrapped it and crammed half in his mouth.
“Why’re we stopping again already?” Alex’s feet itched to keep moving, lost cause or not. They’d already taken several breaks and he wasn’t hungry, thirsty, or too tired, but his stomach was slightly nauseous and a little shaky. He just wanted to push through the symptoms and get this trip over with. He left his pack on, confronting Jim in even tones.
Brynn and Jim had removed their packs. Ryan stood next to Alex, his pack still on, mouth full, his attention flitting between Jim and Alex.
“It’s just for ten minutes,” Jim stated.
Alex scanned the group, taking a hard look at Brynn, who was speaking to the dog, her back to Alex. Was she the reason Jim wasn’t picking up the pace? “No one looks tired.”
“We rest before we get tired. And even though you’re soaking wet, drink something.” Jim’s tone sharpened, his voice belying the calm gaze that met Alex’s.
“We’re moving too damned slow.”
“It’s called pacing. Ever heard of it? Should be key in triathlons.”
“He never did triathlons.” Ryan grinned around the words and popped the rest of his bar in his mouth. Apparently, the younger man liked to push Jim’s buttons a little.
Jim narrowed his eyes at Ryan then swung his gaze to Alex. “What? Your boss said—”
“Am I slacking? Am I having trouble keeping up?” Alex felt new sweat start on his forehead.
Jim shook his head, eyes angry.
“Then it’s not important.”
“The only reason Collins let you on the team was because your boss insisted you were in some incredible physical shape.”
“Doesn’t matter now, does it? It’s a moot point.” Alex glanced at his watch. “How long we sitting here?”
“Until I’m done taking a piss.” Jim spun around and stomped into the thick trees, letting the wet branches fling water back at the waiting group. Brynn’s forehead wrinkled as she watched Jim vanish in the deep brush and her brown eyes turned to scrutinize Alex.
Alex calmly met the three stares as his mouth went dry. He’d stepped over an invisible line. “Is there a problem?”
“Any other lies we need to know about?” Brynn simply looked curious.
“Wasn’t my lie. How was I to know my boss would say something like that?” Uncomfortable with his words, Alex looked away from Brynn into Thomas’s deep eyes. The man was regarding Alex like a lion spying its prey.
“You didn’t answer her question,” the big man stated.
Alex met his stare. “There’s nothing else you need to know.”
“This is a team. If there’s something we need to know that could affect the safety and the results of this operation, let’s hear it now,” Thomas rumbled.
Alex said nothing. What could he tell them? It was too early to open that can of worms. When they got closer to the crash site, he’d pull Jim aside and tell him the truth.
Well, part of the truth.
“Alex?” Brynn prompted.
Her brown eyes had lost the dancing luster he’d seen at the trailhead and it depressed him. So far, watching her had been keeping him sane. Her enthusiasm for the outdoors and her affection for her dog were engrossing. Not quite distracting enough to ignore the rain and icy wind, but every little bit helped.
He bit his tongue and looked away, his mind scrambling for words to change their focus. “Sorry. I’m in a hurry to get in there. Linus, the marshal on this flight, was a good friend. I need to know…” It was the first time Alex had mentioned the name of the marshal from the missing plane. He used to consider Linus Carlson one of his closest friends. Their families had even been together for a Christmas or two. Before.
Brynn nodded, sympathy warming her eyes and making him feel like a piece of shit for exaggerating and lying. Jim emerged from the dripping, wet woods, still scowling.
“Hey,” Alex spoke up, knowing a public apology was due. “Jim, I didn’t mean to question your decision. I’m just in a hurry.”
“He knew the marshal on board,” Brynn added quietly, watching Jim. Their eyes connected and some sort of silent message passed between them. Alex frowned, glancing from one to the other, feeling out of the loop.
Jim pinned Alex with a stare. “I’d appreciate having a better idea of what we might find at that plane. I don’t like going in blind.”
“I don’t know a lot,” Alex replied slowly. How much can I tell him? “I would say be prepared for the worst.” He hated keeping Jim in the dark.
A brief wave of understanding crossed Jim’s sharp eyes. He’d caught the warning and knew Alex wasn’t referring to possible gore at the crash. Jim didn’t ask any more questions.
Jim glanced at his watch. “OK, let’s go.”
“Shit.” Ryan froze, his pack half on. “Jim, what was in that oatmeal thing you gave me?”
Jim frowned as he slung on his own pack. “I don’t know. My wife made them. Why?”
Ryan stuck a finger in his mouth and scratched at the roof of his mouth. “Walnuts?”
“Maybe. But I didn’t taste any.”
Ryan stretched his lips and rubbed inside his cheek with his tongue. Annoyance flashed across his face.
“You allergic to walnuts?” Brynn asked rapidly.
“No.” Ryan scratched at his lips. “Just extra sensitive. Make my mouth and throat itch and tickle like crazy.”
“Here.” Brynn tossed Ryan a small bottle. His eyes lit up as he spotted the label, and he grinned like he’d caught a bottle of Grey Goose.
“Let’s hear it for the nurse. Prepared for everything.” Ryan turned the bottle to show the Benadryl label to Alex. “Thank God. The itch was going to drive me batshit.”
Alex stared at Brynn’s pack. “You got a complete pharmacy in there?”
She tucked away the clear bag. “No. I always carry Benadryl, some ibuprofen, and local anesthetic. That’s about it.”
“Ibuprofen?” He sounded pathetic.
Questioning dark eyes met his. “Need some?”
“Please,” he nearly begged.
When the little brown pills hit his palm, he knew how relieved Ryan had felt. Alex greedily swallowed all three and studied his watch. Twenty minutes. In twenty minutes relief should start. If the pain in his head and knee vanished, he might become as cheerful as Brynn. Might.
The others wrestled on their packs and restarted the march. Jim fell in beside Alex, slowing his strides with a hand on Alex’s arm until they’d dropped twenty feet behind the others. “Next time, keep your mouth shut if you don’t like how things are going. I’ve got twelve years of search and rescue under my belt. I know how this particular group thinks, and I know what they need. If you have a problem, you take it up with me in private.” Jim’s words were low and grim, his eyes hard.
Alex nodded. Jim was right. He’d questioned Jim’s authority in front of his crew. Major mistake. Alex would’ve punched any asshole who’d pulled it on him. “Won’t happen again. My mouth is shut.”
“Damn right.” Jim sped up to join Brynn and left Alex alone to bring up the rear.
Alex plodded on. It was fucking cold and it’d immediately started to snow after the break. Steadily. Not nice, soft snowflakes, but the little ice balls that stung every bit of exposed flesh. Maybe it was a good thing that his face was numb. He knew his nose was dripping even though he couldn’t feel the damn thing. He just kept wiping at it. He probably looked like Rudolph’s closest relative.
Feet were numb too.
He hated the forest. He hated snow.
He had a hand warmer on in each pocket and the heat was doing absolutely nothing other than making him wish for a six-foot-tall warmer that he could wrap around his naked body. If anything, the damned molecule-sized warmers were making him more miserable.
Kiana shot by him, a gray blur. Her speed nearly knocked him off balance, and he hated the dog for her enthusiasm. Anyone who was happy in this weather was now his enemy. They were being happy simply to spite him. Simply to harass him because he was a nature hater.
He’d been relegated to the end of the line. He didn’t know if he should be insulted or pleased that they weren’t worried about him keeping up. Or maybe they didn’t care if he fell behind and got lost in the haze. He glanced at his watch. The ibuprofen should be taking effect any minute. He concentrated on his knee. Seemed a little better. Each step wasn’t—
The ground slipped out from under him. With a shout of surprise, he fell and slipped down the slope. After a split second of pure terror and air rushing past his ears, he slammed to a stop in a puddle of mud. Make that a lake of mud. Nearly freezing mud.
He was on his ass, his hands and feet sunken six inches into the crap. He gasped to catch his breath and slow his hammering heart. He looked up the bank he’d slid down like a Slip ’n Slide. Thomas stood there, humor flashing in his dark eyes.
“Gotta watch your step.”
The other three appeared at Thomas’s side, surprise and fear on their faces. He wrenched a hand out of the muck, staring at the brown goo.
Good gloves. His hands were dry.
“Thomas, you didn’t point out the slide to him?” Brynn was furious.
Thomas shrugged. “I figured he’d see it. Wasn’t a bad one. I knew if he fell, he wouldn’t go far.”
“What?” Brynn gasped as the other two men muttered and glared at Thomas.
“He needs to learn to watch out for himself.” His face didn’t show it, but Alex heard the smugness in Thomas’s tone.
With a superhuman effort, Alex pulled the rest of his body from the mud with a squishing, sucking sound. He stared at his pants. How was he supposed to get the crap off? He brushed a hand at the stuff. Not just mud, sticky mud.
He hated nature.
“Here.” Ryan had stepped down the embankment and held out a hand. His other hand was securely attached to the limb of a tree behind him. “Grab on.”
Alex wanted to tell him to go to hell, but grabbed his hand.
With some effort, the two of them got back up to the trail. Brynn scooped up a handful of snow and rubbed at Alex’s pants with it. The mud washed off with the ice crystals. He batted her hand away.
“I’ll do it,” he said. She said nothing as she stepped back, but he saw brief annoyance flash in her eyes. “Thanks,” Alex muttered. He glanced at Thomas. Complete innocence gazed back. He refocused on his pants.
“Jesus Christ, Thomas. What if he’d broken an arm or leg?” Brynn was angry. “You’d be the one hauling his butt back to camp.”
“Todoroff, use some common sense!” Jim crossed his arms on his chest and eyed the silent man. “Kinton doesn’t know what to look for out here.”
“Forget it,” Alex snapped. He didn’t want people talking about him like he was a helpless wimp. Brynn trying to clean off his pants was bad enough. “Let’s just go.” He pulled off his expensive gloves and glared at the mud, wondering if he should use some of his drinking water to clean them up. He liked his gloves. That morning he’d choked when he saw the price tag, but now he understood the value of good gear in this freezing hell.
The others started up the path. Alex glanced up to find Thomas waiting for him, a bottle of water in his hand. He held it out to Alex. “Mud should rinse off. They’re waterproof.”
“I know,” Alex mumbled. He took the bottle, feeling no guilt for using Thomas’s drinking water as he rinsed his gloves.
He mentally cursed at his shaking hands. Alex turned slightly, moving his hands from Thomas’s view. He used more water than was necessary and handed the bottle back. Thomas silently tucked it in his pack and moved out after the others. Alex followed.