Melting the Ice (4 page)

“And if I
do
go the cops, what happens to you? You going to try and stop me?”

“You’ll tie me up in bureaucratic red tape, that’s what. Then it’ll be too late.”

“For what?”

He dragged his hands through his hair and blew out a stream of frustration. “Christ, Hannah, why’d you have to walk into this?”

“What, exactly, have I walked in to, Dr. Logan? Who the hell are you?”

He stared at her, assessing.

“Look, either you tell me what the hell is going on or I go to the RCMP detachment right now.”

He stood up, paced, turned to face her. “I can’t tell you. It’s classified.”

She pushed herself to her feet. “What do you mean you can’t tell me? What do you mean ‘classified’?”

He stepped forward, taking her hands in his. “Hannah, work with me on this. Trust me.”

“Work with you?
Trust you?
You won’t tell me what the hell is going on. You won’t tell me who you are, why you’re sneaking around like a thief and you expect me to
work
with you?”

“You shouldn’t have come here.”

“Screw you, Logan. I had every right to come here.” She pushed past him and stalked from the apartment, slammed the door behind her.

Hannah stepped out onto the pedestrian walkway into the clean night air still shaking with adrenaline. She’d done it again. Fled. Damn him. She looked back up at the second floor. Amy’s apartment was once again in darkness.

Rex lifted the blind slightly with the back of his hand and looked down into the street to watch her go. He saw her stop, turn and look back up at the window. Instinctively he shifted farther back into the dark shadows. Her hair shimmered pale gold in the lamplight, like an angel’s.

Blast.

Hannah was not working her way into his investigation, she had crashed slap-bang into the middle of it. So much for trying to stay out of her way while he was in White River.

And after finding what he had in Amy’s apartment, Hannah could be at risk if she insisted on digging. If his suspicions were correct, Hannah’s curiosity may already have landed her in hot water. Very hot water.

Oh, the bittersweet irony.

He’d walked out of her life six years ago to keep her safe.

Now he could not walk from her. This time he would have to stay close to keep her from harm.

She was sticking her nose into the business of people who played for keeps. She had no idea what she was up against. She would need his help. She would need his protection. And he needed to make sure she didn’t blow his cover by going to the cops.

He watched her turn and stride down the dimly lit street. He watched the sway of her hips.

It was that same purposeful stride that had caught his attention in Marumba. The same sway that had sparked fire in his groin.

Yes, she needed his protection, but who would protect him from her?

He’d made a mistake falling for her once. He wasn’t doing much better the second time around. The woman was a drug. He’d already let himself slip.

This must be his retribution.

Then his pulse quickened.

Rex saw a hooded figure step out from under the cover of the dark portico across the walkway. Whoever it was began following Hannah toward the festive heart of White River village.

Chapter 4

T
he early-morning air was crisp, the clear sky pale and colorless, yet to be kissed by the sun. Within the hour it would burst over the mountain in a crashing symphony of gold chasing the chill into valley shadows until evening.

Hannah knew it would be a glorious August Saturday. It made the bizarre and sinister events of last night all the more incongruous. Was it really possible Amy had been murdered? What did Rex Logan have to do with it? What did he find in Amy’s apartment that they’d all missed? What was he really doing in White River?

She couldn’t go and talk to Staff Sgt. Fred LeFevre. Not yet. He’d laugh her out of the office. She needed to learn more from Rex.

But right now, this time was hers. She crouched down to tighten the laces of her runners. She would do hills today. She needed a good workout to clear the scuzz from her sleep-deprived brain and ease the kinks from her body.

Hannah broke into a slow run, rhythmically sucking the cool air down into her lungs and blowing it out into crisp clouds of vapor. She followed the trail from her condo down around the lakeshore to the point where White River flowed under the Callaghan Road bridge.

She jogged under the bridge, picking up one of the gravel trails that snaked through the park and up into the Moonstone foothills.

Her breathing was hard, deep and rhythmic now. She felt strong, in control. She found her pace as the sun peeked over the ridge and spilled suddenly into the valley, its warmth immediately noticeable on her back.

She had the trails to herself this morning. She could feel her body working, smooth, like an engine, warmth pulsing with each heartbeat through her limbs. The cold air was rough against the back of her throat. It felt good.

She slowed slightly, her body switching gears as the trail climbed into the trees. Her feet were cushioned as gravel gave way to spongy pine needles and fallen leaves. As she entered the woods, the trees strangled the morning sunshine off into cool dank shadows.

All Hannah could hear now was the sound of her own hard, steady breathing and White River, swollen and raging in the distance.

A crash in the undergrowth stopped her dead.

The noise was just ahead. Brush cracking.

Her brain identified the sound as her body screamed to flee.

But she held her ground. Hannah had been in these mountains long enough to learn not to run from a bear.

She started, one foot behind the other, backing down the trail, very slowly, just as the large ursine beast crashed through the undergrowth ahead.

It lumbered onto the trail. Hannah caught her breath. It was massive, well on its way of achieving its hibernation weight. She was used to seeing bears in White River but the primal awe at the sight of such a beast never left her.

The bear caught wind of Hannah and surged up onto its hind legs, opening and closing its mouth and swaying its head.

It was trying to get a better scent. Hannah kept backing away slowly.

Stay calm, give it space.
She ran through a mental bear encounter checklist as she backed off.

She was so tightly wound she almost screamed when two little cubs scampered out of the trees in front of her, across the trail and into the brush on the other side. The big sow dropped to all fours, chomped her mouth and huffed at Hannah in warning before lumbering into the brush after her cubs.

She could feel the blood thudding through the arteries at her neck with each rapid pound of her heart. Filled with exhilaration and the adrenaline of fear, Hannah laughed out loud in release.

She waited until she could no longer hear the undergrowth crushing under the clumsy weight of the bruins before she again broke into a run.

But she was uneasy now. She couldn’t regain her stride. She kept glancing over her shoulder and hearing sounds in the trees, in the shadows.

She thought she could hear the thud of feet in the soft ground behind her. She felt like the hunted must feel, her senses heightened, nerves strung like a bow.

She heard the thud of feet again. And she felt a presence.

She stopped, swiped her damp brow with the back of her hand. Listening. Silence. Nothing.

Then a sharp crack in the brush.

Hannah uncoiled into a sprint, cut onto a trail that led to the suspension bridge, a lifeline over White River that would lead her to the village, people. Fear burned with cold air in her chest as she sprinted through the trees. Sweat dripped into her eyes, blurring her vision. She ran onto the bridge. Slats of wood bounced under her weight throwing her momentarily off balance. Water raged below. She stumbled, grabbed the cable railing, and made her way across to the wooden ramp that led off the bridge. She hit solid land, sprinted over a mound and turned sharply to her right. And ran straight into him.

He reeled back under the force of the collision, grabbing her shoulders in an effort to steady them both.

“Hannah. What is it?”

She pulled away from him and bent over, hands on her knees, trying to catch her breath, the nausea of exertion rising in her stomach. “Rex…you…startled…me.” Her words came out in rasping gasps.

“Talk to me. What spooked you?”

Still bent over, panting, she looked up at him. He was also in workout gear. His dark hair hung tousled and damp over his brow. Was
he
chasing her?

“Nothing…bear and her cubs. I lost my head.”

He raised a brow. He didn’t believe her.

“Someone was following you.” He said it so matter-of-factly. As if he already knew. He scanned the trees on the far side of the river. “How long do you think he’s been watching you?”

“What?” She stood upright, hand pressed tight into the pain of the stitch at her waist. “What do you mean ‘how long’? Why would someone be ‘watching’ me?”

“Keep it down.”

She glanced back into the woods, following his gaze. He was making her really uneasy.

He put a hand on each shoulder. “You’re not safe, Hannah, not until I get to the bottom of this.” He looked into her eyes. She felt suddenly self-conscious. She caught the wild strand escaping from her ponytail and brushed it behind her ear.

“Listen to me, you need protection.”

She attempted a laugh. It came out hollow. “And who’s going to protect me? You? The guy who breaks into apartments?”

“Damn right I am.”

She pulled away from him. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Hannah, someone followed you when you left Amy’s apartment last night.”

She closed her eyes and drew in a deep, steadying breath. Her brain could no longer cope. It was in total overload.

“Hannah, we
have
to talk.” He looked around, then into her eyes. “But not here. Come, let me buy you breakfast.”

Coffee, she needed coffee. She needed space. He was crowding her, invading her life.

“Let’s go.” He took her arm and started to lead her down the path. She struggled to match his long gait as he ushered her along the trail toward the village. She was losing control, he was sucking her down into a confusing, gray maelstrom. She had to take a step back.

“Wait, Rex.”

He stopped.

“I…I’m going home to change first.” Besides feeling like something the cat had dragged in, the perspiration on her skin had cooled and set her shivering. “I’m cold.”

Rex skimmed his eyes over her, a twinkle brightening the ice for an instant. He grinned. Quick and wolfish. “Yes. I see. I’ll come with you.”

She wrapped her arms over her chest. “No. I’ll go alone and meet up with you later.”

“Hannah, you’re not getting it. You’re in the same kind of trouble Amy was. You have to trust me on this.”

There it was again. That word. Trust. She glanced back into the forest. She felt as if she was trapped between the devil and the trees. She was sure someone had been following her. What if Rex was right? Had she been tailed last night?

Hannah sat silent in his four-wheel-drive vehicle as he drove her around the lake.

He had the wheel and all the control. She had none. She had no idea what she had gotten herself into. She was being forced to trust him. Look where that had gotten her before.

They were approaching her condo. “Here. This one.”

He pulled into her driveway. “Nice place.”

“It’s mine.” The words escaped her mouth before her head even registered them.

“Still a nice place.”

“Thanks.” She’d made a decent investment in this property. She’d lived frugally during her foreign correspondent years. Her clothes had been utilitarian, her accommodation and food on the company tab. But she’d earned well and invested well. It had secured her this home. Now her freelance work plus the hours she put in at the
Gazette
supplemented her income. She and Danny were doing fine.

She climbed out of the car. He followed. He was going to come in. Into her home. Thoughts of Danny streamed through her brain. His room. His little bicycle. His toys. The photographs of him all over her condo. She turned to him. “Rex.” Her voice was firm. “I don’t want you in my house. Can you wait?”

He angled his head, curious. “Why?”

“I just don’t.”

“I’ll just come in and take a quick look around. Make sure things are safe. Then I’ll leave you in peace while you change.”

Panic licked at her stomach. “No. Please.”

Rex frowned, studying her face. Then he turned away and scanned the surroundings. He looked back at her. “And if there’s someone inside?”

“I’ll yell.”

He shook his head, looked up at the sky, blew out a stream of air in frustration. But he wasn’t pushing her. She had to hand him that.

“Wait.” He strode back to the SUV and fished a cell phone out of the glove compartment. He punched in some numbers and handed it to her. “Here. Press one and I’ll be there in a flash. Don’t lock your door. I’ll keep watch out here.”

Hannah stepped into her home and closed the door quietly behind her. She took her time. Not so much to spite him as to absorb and process the events of the past twenty-four hours.

Rex Logan had walked back into her life and turned it upside down, spilling it all directions like a box of kids’ toys. She turned on the shower and let hot water sluice over her limbs, beat at the dull ache in her shoulder. She was going to have to play along with him for a while. She had no other option. Fred LeFevre would laugh her out of his office if she came to him with a conspiracy theory and zero proof to back it up. And what if Rex
was
telling the truth? What if she did tie him up in bureaucratic red tape? Would that mean they’d never find out if someone had taken Amy’s life? And why?

Hannah steeled her resolve. She’d march to the beat of his drum for now. God help her. Because once they’d solved the mystery of Amy Barnes, she was going to have to deal with the fact that this stranger in her life was Danny’s father.

And she was going to have to try and resolve it all before Friday. Before Danny came home.

She toweled off and rubbed a mild gardenia-scented lotion over her body.

Hannah changed three times before she settled on a lemon-yellow sleeveless dress hemmed about two inches above her knees. It offset her tan and showed her limbs to best advantage. She couldn’t remember when she’d last worn a dress. Not this summer, anyway.

She appraised the result in the mirror, then muttered a curse. Why did she even care?

“Well, I’ll tell you why you care.” She leaned forward and addressed her reflection, wagging her finger at her alter ego. “You want to look cool and groomed and unfazed by his little charade. That’s why.” Her very feminine core, deep down, also wanted Rex to see what he’d lost. A part of her wanted him to eat dust.

Satisfied, she grabbed her sunglasses, sweater and purse and headed back to his car.

“You took your sweet time.” But the gruffness of his words belied the glint of obvious approval in his eyes.

And it sparked a small glow of warm triumph in her belly.

Rex said nothing as he drove.

She looked like a golden goddess, this woman sitting next to him. The soft floral scent of her freshly showered body stirred painful memories of crushed frangipani blooms.

He lowered the window, letting in the fresh air. He wanted to blow the scent of her from his nostrils.

He’d had altogether too little sleep in his SUV. After he’d seen that hulking figure step out from under the portico and walk in her footsteps, he’d followed Hannah home, parked across the street, just out of sight until he could be sure she hadn’t been tailed all the way.

When she set off for her run earlier this morning, he’d followed her in his vehicle but lost her when she cut into the forest. He’d dug his gym bag out of the car, changed into his sweats and tried to catch up to her, but she was packing a mean pace and he’d lost her, until she crashed into him near the suspension bridge. He would have to keep closer tabs on her.

Seeing her in the forest this morning, vulnerable, tousled, flushed, breathless, the damp T-shirt molding the soft roundness of her breasts, had near driven him wild.

He not only wanted to protect her, he needed to. It was a primal urge. He wanted to gather his woman in his arms and keep her safe from the evil of the world.

Only she wasn’t his woman.

And she could never be.

He gripped the wheel and stepped on the gas, negotiating the bend in the road.

The silence hung thick and charged between them.

Rex led her to an intimate booth in the back corner of Ben’s Bistro. A private cocoon in the midst of the lively clatter of plates and cutlery and steady buzz of voices. The sun spilled warm through small windowpanes, throwing square patterns onto the red-and-white checked tablecloth.

“We can talk here.”

She took a seat opposite him.

“Try the eggs.”

Hannah perused the menu. “I’m not that hungry. I’ll have the fruit cup. And a coffee.”

“The eggs are good. I had them yesterday. You look like you could do with some protein.”

“I’ll have the fruit.”

She watched him as he placed their order. He was still in his T-shirt and sweatpants, but that did nothing to diminish his dark aura of authority. He cut a powerful figure. She watched the muscles twist under the tanned skin of his forearm as he handed the menus to the server and checked his watch. Her eyes were drawn by the motion, the silver of the watch, the dark hair on his arm, the solid breadth of his wrist. She’d forgotten the beauty of his fingers. Long. Strong. Those hands. They could be so rough yet so achingly gentle. He had run them over her hot skin once. Moved from her ankles up, slowly, along the inside of her thighs—