the mall,” she muttered, looking as irritated as he felt all of a sudden. “Except for the freezing temperatures, wind trying to knock us over and blinding snow. Maybe we could get a cinnamon bun when we get to the top.”
Blake felt rotten. He knew she was reacting to his tone, to his attitude. Just because he knew they had no future didn’t mean he wanted to make her angry. Or worse, upset.
There you go, Landon, he mocked. Rescue a gal from a raving lunatic, have sex with her all night even though you know better, then make her feel lousy about it. The Stud of the Year trophy should arrive any day.
“Cinnamon buns, hmm?” he said, trying for a light tone. He took a deep breath, then crossed over to finish securing her winter gear. “I’ll see what I can do.”
He made quick work of her gear. Within seconds, she was ready to brave the elements. Swathed like a mummy, her face concealed and her vivid hair under wraps, she was all eyes. That should mean she was less expressive. But those eyes spoke volumes. Worry, sadness, a regretful goodbye. They were all there, screaming at him loud and clear. So were the embers of passion, so easily ignited between them. All it’d take was a look in return. A word, not even a promise.
And he could keep this going.
She’d regret it, eventually.
She’d hate his job, his connection to a man she felt so negatively toward.
He’d hate hurting her, resent the silent—or eventually not-so-silent—pressure to change.
But between now and that happening, they could have a whole lot of time exploring that passion. Having incredible sex. Enjoying the hell out of each other.
That was living in the moment, wasn’t it?
Even though you knew the moment was going to hurt like hell eventually.
“Let’s rock and roll.”
With that, and a quick smile, he pulled his own face gear into place and gestured her out the tent flap.
They didn’t say another word, even when he hooked her safety line and showed her how to climb. It took them a solid ten minutes to traverse the ledge. When he’d arrived, after setting up the tent, he’d put the pulleys into place and carved hand- and footholds into the icy snow. They’d filled in a bit in the thirty or so hours since, making for a few dicey moments. But mostly it was a simple, easy extraction.
As before, Alexia kept up. He wanted to tell her she had military in her blood. She was as good, as solid, as many of the people he’d served with. But he didn’t think she’d see that as a compliment.
At the top, he dug his fingers into the deep snow and heaved himself over the edge. Then he reached down for Alexia. Without hesitation, despite there being a thirty-foot drop behind her, she let go of the mountain and put her hand in his. He pulled her up, first over the edge, then to her feet.
They both looked around.
The sound came first. Like a purr beneath the roar of the wind, it slowly grew. Lights, blurred and hazy, bobbed toward them.
“Your chariot,” he said, recognizing the light pattern, but still gesturing her behind a rock and pulling his gun. SOP until he saw the driver and knew it was safe.
“Boy Scout, this is Magic Carpet. Do you read?”
“This is Boy Scout, I read. You’re in our sights.”
“The package is ready to go?”
“Affirmative.” The package was staring at him through huge brown eyes as she listened to the communication through her own headset.
“Handoff is imminent. CHAOS will take delivery in person. Magic Carpet out.”
Shit.
The admiral was in the Snow Trac?
He should warn Alexia. He might have wiggled out of personal responsibility for not telling her his connection to her father in the past, given the situation. But this time? He knew who her father was, where he was and, Blake eyed the lumbering vehicle still a mile away, just exactly when he’d arrive.
Telling her was against regulations.
Not telling her was the end of their chances together.
He pictured Phil’s mom’s face at the funeral. Someday, it could be him in the flag-covered box. Could he ask Alexia to accept that? To take the chance that someday she’d be sitting there, accepting a folded flag and military condolences?
Because he loved her enough to want forever, he realized with a painful grinding in his heart. And forever was something he couldn’t promise.
Better to promise nothing, to ask nothing. And to make nothing available. She wouldn’t get hurt that way.
And his hurt? The excruciating, gut-wrenching misery in his heart? Hey, he was a specially trained soldier, equipped to push through any pain and survive.
“Thank you,” she said, her voice soft as a whisper through his headset.
Afraid of what else she’d say, Blake quickly shook his head, then pointed at the Snow Trac vehicle rumbling across the white expanse. Privacy time was over. Communications were open now. Wide-open.
Blake clenched his jaw.
Time to say goodbye.
* * *
ALEXIA WATCHED the huge monstrosity trudge toward them, looking like a giant metal turtle crossing the snow. It was her way home. Escape from the bizarre hell her life had turned into this last week.
So why did she have a desperate urge to shimmy back down the side of the mountain and hide in the tent?
Or better yet, burrow into Blake’s arms and beg him not to let her go.
He hadn’t let her thank him. Because they’d be overheard, or because he wasn’t comfortable with the praise, she didn’t know. But he’d saved her. Saved her life. Saved her virtue. And quite likely saved her sanity.
He was a hero. She watched him as he stood between her and the oncoming rescue vehicle, rifle at the ready. Even though he’d talked to them himself, he wouldn’t take a chance with her safety until he was sure it was U.S. military in that snow-tank thing.
Everything he’d done suddenly crashed over her. All because he was a soldier. A SEAL. A hero. How could she take issue with that when it was because of all those things that she was alive? How could she ever wish him to do anything else when he was so fabulously talented at being a SEAL? As long as there were freaks and lunatics and evil in the world, men like Blake stood against them. Kept the rest of the world safe, just as he was keeping her safe now.
She wanted to thank him again. To tell him how much he meant to her, how much she appreciated what he did. And how wrong she’d been to reject him based on his job.
She wanted a chance.
A chance for them.
But now it was too late.
As if mocking the timing of her realization, the Snow Trac grumbled to a loud, whining stop twenty feet away. The lights flashed. Code, she realized as Blake lowered his weapon.
“Your chariot,” he told her, gesturing to the vehicle.
Everything she wanted to say was bottled up inside her like a shook-up soda. All intense and mixed up and ready to burst. She wanted to tell him so many things.
But she’d had her chance.
As she’d done so many times in the last day, she hooked her fingers in his belt and put her feet into the indentions he made in the snow.
They reached the vehicle and he gestured her to come around. Two soldiers stood on either side of the open door, both with rifles at the ready. Covering them, she realized with a nervous shiver.
“Be safe,” Blake said as she moved toward the