High Speed Holiday. Katy Lee
weren’t the ones doing the chasing,” Ian said. “He tried to get me away from the pack a little ways back there.”
She pivoted back. “While sending the cops to their deaths?”
“Looks that way. You should get as far away from me as you can before it’s too late for you and your men. Go now. Leave me here. I beg of you.”
“Be serious. I’m not leaving you up here. You’d die before morning, whether killed by this guy or the elements.” Sylvie needed to do what their enemy wouldn’t expect. Did he know these mountains? If she went left, she would pick up the McKeeny Pass and could cut down into inhabited land. There was also an emergency supply cabin at the beginning of the pass. But if she started on her way, it would be for the duration.
“You up for a ride?”
“I don’t think this is a good time for an adventure.”
“It’s not a good time to die, either. I’m thinking our guy will be expecting us to double back. He’ll be waiting to spring another trap for you. Christmas is two days away. I mean to be sitting around a tree sipping eggnog, and I’d like to do that without all the paperwork your death would heap on my desk. I’d also like to be alive to pick my son up from the hospital in the morning.”
“So what’s your plan?”
“I know another way down. We have to go across the McKeeny Pass. The ridge runs along for a few miles, then it descends to safety. You can trust me. I’ve driven these trails many times, but there’s a chance we’ll run out of gas and will need to walk the rest of the way. Are you too hurt for that?”
“I’m fine. Hop on.”
“Wait, I need to tell my men.”
As if on cue, the three of them cleared the slope. “Chief? Are you all right?”
“Karl!” Sylvie approached them. “We’re not going down the way we came up. It’s too risky for Ian. I’m taking him across the pass. Are you guys able to get back down?”
“We lost a sled, but we’ll double up.”
“Us too. I need you off this mountain as fast as possible. We’re dealing with a psychopath who doesn’t care if he takes you out in the process.”
“Should we call Reggie?”
The name Reggie froze Sylvie’s chest faster than the freezing temperature “No. There’s no need to call him in. Let him enjoy his retirement.”
“But—”
“No buts. Do not, I repeat, do not call Reginald Porter. We will catch this guy on our own. Now go.”
Her men followed her orders, but she could tell they were hoping to call in the man who had been next in line for the chief position. She still had a lot to prove to her team. Sylvie hoped catching this guy and keeping Ian safe would be what it took to earn her rightful place as chief in their eyes. But even if it didn’t, it wouldn’t change the fact that she was still in charge.
* * *
Ian held on to Sylvie’s waist as she pushed the snowmobile through deep snow. He kept an eye out behind him every few seconds to be sure they didn’t have unwanted company. Two hours of riding at a slow twenty miles an hour, Ian worried they weren’t putting enough distance between them and his would-be assassin. The guy knew how to use these treacherous drops to his advantage. Ian peered over the side of the ridge to his right. One push and they would be bouncing over jagged rocks all the way down. In addition to speed, he questioned Sylvie’s choice of path.
The snowmobile slowed even more until it drifted to an idling stop. Sylvie hopped off and indicated a small cabin down the hill about a hundred feet. The snowdrifts covered the door to about a foot from the top.
Sylvie’s short legs disappeared in the heavy snow as she made tracks to the building. She pushed through, breaking trail with all her strength.
Ian joined her and reached the door to help her scoop the drifts away in a flying flurry. The door opened inward with ease and a cold woodstove in the center of the one-room cabin greeted them.
Sylvie lifted the visor of her helmet. The fact that she didn’t remove it completely told him this was a quick stop. He lifted his own as she went to a cabinet in search of something.
“Do 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