14

GAGE HAD REALLY LOST HIS MIND NOW because no snowboarder with all his working faculties, no matter how accomplished, rode through a steep, deeply powdered, pine-cluttered mountainside in the dark of night.

Lost. His. Mind.

The light from his head lamp cut through the darkness at sharp angles, and he just hoped he was heading toward the eastern ridge, the closest clear point to call in a rescue.

Which, most likely, PEAK couldn’t manage, not with the winds picking up, the night closing in. But he had to try.

And after he connected with PEAK, he’d hike his way back to Ella.

He couldn’t erase Ella’s distraught expression from his brain—of course he’d go for help. In fact, the one thing he could do right was find his way through these trees.

He ducked a low-hanging branch, angled his board toward a clearing in the trees, shot through them, and—

He emerged into a clear white field that ended in a nearly thousand-foot drop-off of sheer granite.

He skidded to a stop, breathing hard, sweat trickling down his back despite the howl of the wind. Below the cornice that capped the rocky edge, the world fell away into a rugged valley of granite, pine, and unridable terrain.

In his original descent, he hadn’t gone this way for those exact reasons—the lethal drop-off. But tonight, this position provided a clear view to the VHF antenna at Crystal Point. It was just the boost he needed for his radio reception to clear the mountains and reach PEAK HQ communications.

Overhead, a half moon had risen, the stars just starting to wink awake. The luminosity shone enough for him to trace the razorback peaks to the east. It would be a glorious, even romantic night under the stars if Ella’s brother wasn’t fighting for his life.

He worked out his walkie. “PEAK HQ, PEAK HQ, this is Watson. Come in!”

Static, and he pressed the unit to his helmet, wincing. Please.

The wind stirred up eddies of powder around him, and the temps had dropped drastically with the disappearance of the sun. His cheeks burned with cold, and as his heartbeat slowed, he knew it wouldn’t be long until the cold found his bones.

“Ty! Pete! Someone pick up!”

Please let someone be there at HQ. But he couldn’t imagine that anyone would have left. Not with him and Ella out on a search.

“Watson, this is PEAK HQ. Go ahead. Over.”

Jess. Thank you. He wanted to weep with the sudden rush of relief. “We’re just east of Cathedral Canyon, about a mile or more west of the final ridge. We found Oliver.”

“Roger, Watson. What is his condition?”

“He might have internal bleeding—we need an extraction ASAP.”

“Stand by,” Jess said, and he imagined she was conferring with Miles or maybe Pete. The wind ruffled his jacket, pressed him toward the edge, and he fell to his knees, just to ground himself.

The last thing he needed was to take a header off the ridge wall.

“Watson, Miles here. We’re watching the wind off the mountain, and it’s gusting up to forty miles per hour. In the darkness and that complexity of flying in, it’s a no-go right now. We might be able to get in at first light.”

Gage closed his eyes, wincing.

“And that’s pretty tight tree cover down there. We might be able to drop in a litter, but there’s no guarantee we can pull him out. Over.”

“If you drop it in, I can ski him out.” Maybe. But with the thicket of trees, the ridgeline cordoning them off . . .

No, of course he’d ski Oliver, and Ella, out. Safely.

“Wilco,” Miles said. “Repeat your position.”

“We’re in the Cathedral Forest, about another mile to the ridge. Heading down along the ridge into the center of the canyon.”

“Roger. We’ll leave at first light and radio when we get close. And we’ll map a route in on snowmobile. Ty and Pete will head out as soon as they can. Best we can do.”

It would have to be good enough. “Roger. Wilco. Watson out.”

He stood there a moment, just watching the stars breach the dark blue canopy of night. The jagged, glistening outline of the mountains against the indigo heavens.

And rising above them all, Heaven’s Peak.

He stared up, seeing in his mind the trek they’d taken down the mountain, that first jump, where they’d camped last night, Weeping Wall, the cave where they found Bradley, Angel’s Wings . . .

This is where it had started, all of it—the epic YouTube video, the freestyle championships, meeting Ella . . .

The rise before his colossal fall.

And God had led him right back here. As if he might be trying to tell Gage something.

Ty’s words to him, only a few days old, drifted back to him. “Dude. You wear your mistakes like a brand on your forehead. You need to get over it.”

Maybe God brought him back here to give him a reset. A do-over. Gage didn’t have to be a cautionary tale, not anymore.

He should go see that kid—Hunter—when they got out of this. Maybe his fame could come to some good.

In fact, maybe everything could change if he did this right. Restart with Ella in his life—yeah, he’d figure it out. Move to Vermont.

Maybe start freeriding again.

Gage sat, unlatched his boots, and snapped off the bindings from the board. Then he stood it up and unhooked the board where it latched at the top, then at the heel. He split the board, then reattached the bindings into touring mode. After standing the skis upright in the snow, he pulled out his skins, took one, and attached it to the tip of his board. He did the same with the other, pressing them tight along the bottoms.

Then he clipped his boots back into the bindings. Took a breath and sighted his line. He’d simply follow it back to Ella and the camp.

“Okay, Ella, here I come.”

The howling was just the wind.

Really, it had to be.

Please.

Ella sat at the edge of the tent, shining her light out into the night through the tiny opening, her hair rising as another mournful cry hung on the wind.

Start a fire—right. She hadn’t a clue how to find dry firewood in the woods, especially in the thick of night. She did well to get the stove going, melt water, and make supper.

She’d saved a cup of chili mac for Gage. Who would be back any minute.

Any. Minute.

“It’s cold out there, sis. Come in and shut the door,” Ollie said from behind her.

“I’m trying to keep the wolves away,” she snapped. “Someone has to keep us alive, and poor Gage is out there somewhere, alone and . . .” She closed her eyes. Now she simply sounded hysterical.

She didn’t do hysterical. Ever. Even when she wanted to fly apart—like watching Gage get swept away in an avalanche, or even after escaping her own avalanche—

“Do you know that I outran an avalanche looking for you today?” She glanced at Ollie. He lay on the sleeping bag, finishing off a power bar. A sheen of sweat slicked his forehead. She frowned—it wasn’t that warm in here. In fact, she could still see her breath.

“Cool,” Ollie said, and grinned at her.

On second thought, it was probably his own arrogance heating him from the inside. “Glad to see you’re feeling better.”

“Yeah. I think it was just exhaustion. I stopped to take a breath, and the next thing I knew, you were slapping me on the face.”

“I didn’t slap you.” She turned back to the door. “And it wasn’t cool. It was terrifying. In fact, the last two days I’ve pretty much lived in terror trying to find you.”

“You didn’t have to come after me—”

“Are you kidding me? Of course I did. You’re my brother, my idiot brother, but—”

“Hey.” He sat up, and she noticed the quick intake of breath, as if he was in pain. “I’m not an idiot. I’ve been studying this route for two years. And this weekend was my chance to go down in history.”

Oh. His solemn tone took some wind out of her anger. “I didn’t know that. Really, you’ve been studying for two years?”

“Watching videos, studying the mountain.”

“But you were partying the night before you left!”

“No, I wasn’t. I was in the bar, yes, but I wasn’t drinking. I was meeting with our chopper pilot. And okay, I might have called Gage Watson, but that was just pride talking. I’d been studying his style for so long—and then to have him track me down and take away my ski pass . . . it turned my crank.”

Ollie slumped back. “Why’d you have to bring him, of all people? Now he sees me as some hotshot who needed to be rescued.”

She was still trying not to see him that way. “Because he knows this mountain. And—oh never mind. Ollie, listen. I know you’re angry with me—”

“I’m not ten years old anymore. I’m an adult, and I don’t need you to rescue me. Or tell me I’m an idiot.”

Her mouth pressed tight. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine—”

“No. I’m sorry that I didn’t know you had actually prepared for this. I might not have called out the cavalry.”

He nodded. “Well, it’s probably good you did. Bradley needed help. And I’m still not feeling well. My head is starting to really hurt.”

“How’d you get sick, anyway?”

“I don’t know. Maybe the pizza?”

“I didn’t have any.” But Brette had, and Gage’s words about Brette going to the hospital nudged her memory. “I was out looking for you.”

He made a face.

“I know you’re not a little kid anymore, but . . . you’re still my kid brother, and you’re all I have.”

He opened his eyes, a little incredulity in them. “No, I’m not. You have Mom and Dad.”

“They’re not my mom and dad—”

“Yes, they are. And if you’d just slow down and realize you don’t have be so awesome all the time, you’d figure out that they love you just because you’re their daughter. Look at me—I spent the better part of my high school years, and yeah, maybe freshman year in college—screwing up. But they still love me.”

“I know. You sooo don’t deserve it.” But she smiled.

“I don’t. And, by the way, I know you think I’m still smoking pot, but I’m not. I kicked that six months ago when I went in training for this run. Went home, told Mom and Dad I wanted to do this. I showed them a video of me, showed them I was actually good at this. They finally told me that if that was my passion, that they would support me.”

“They so did not. Not after what happened to Dylan.”

“They so did. Accidents happen, yeah, but I’m not a child, Elle. And they get that. Mom knew I was flying out here. Do they know you’re here?”

Oh. She shook her head. “I just assumed . . .”

“Yeah, well, you know the saying.”

“I’m sorry, Ollie. I jumped to conclusions and . . . now we’re out here . . .” Surrounded by wolves. Another cry hung in the air.

Ollie seemed to not hear it. “You’ve been busy, I get it. It’s not like we talk or anything.”

She sat down on her sleeping bag. “No, it’s not. I’m sorry.”

He lifted a shoulder. “Like I said, you’re busy saving the world.”

“Not saving the world, but yeah, I have people who depend on me.”

“Senator.”

She frowned at him.

“There you go, assuming I’m mocking you. It could be that I’m proud of you. And maybe someday you’ll be proud of me.”

Oh, Ollie.

Another howl drifted in on the wind.

“Is that getting closer?” Ollie asked. “Because I have a gun in my pack.”

“You have a—you have a gun?”

“Yeah, I thought—well, bears and wolves . . . I got my permit about a year ago, right after I turned eighteen, took a bunch of classes—”

“Wow, I really don’t know you.”

“But you want to, don’t you?” He grinned, winked.

Yeah, she sort of did. Because, in that lopsided smile, she saw him. Jovan. Cocky, smart, brave. And a touch of her father.

Here she’d spent her life trying to resemble her amazing parents, and Ollie did it by just being himself.

The howls outside sounded closer.

“Where’s that gun?”

“Do you know how to use it?” Ollie asked as he pointed to his backpack. “Outside pocket.”

She found a 10mm Glock and pulled it out. “I don’t know what to say.”

“How about yes, I know how to use this gun, bro?”

She nodded. “I’ve gone to the firing range a few times with Brette.”

“Really?”

“She’s into self-defense. She has her reasons.” She scooted toward the door, holding her flashlight. She hoped he didn’t chase down an explanation.

Instead he ran down a different path. “So, you and Gage spent the last two days together?”

The way Ollie said it . . . but no, he couldn’t know the stirring in her heart at just the mention of Gage’s name. She kept her voice even. “Like I said, he knows this mountain.”

“Hmm . . . does he know you have a wicked crush on him?”

She glanced at Oliver. “What?”

“Hello. Posters? And because you went out to Outlaw three years ago to watch him freeride? Or even the fact that you still have his number in your phone?”

She said nothing.

“Sis—”

“Okay, yeah. He knows I like him. And I think he likes me back. I mean, I’m pretty sure—”

“Describe pretty sure.”

She sighed. “He kissed me.”

“Whoa.” Ollie sat up.

Yeah, whoa, because suddenly the past twenty-four hours felt a little like she had while standing at the apex of Angel’s Wings—a fast and dangerous slide into the unknown.

What exactly was she expecting? For Gage to follow her back to Vermont?

For her to stay in Montana?

“So, is this true love?” Ollie said.

“I don’t know. Let’s just pray he gets back in one piece. Then we can think about—”

This time, the feral moan was joined by a chorus of high-pitched, skin-prickling whines.

She unzipped the tent, shone the light into the darkness.

There, a form, a flicker of light.

What did they say about wolves’ eyes in the darkness? She stood up, held the Maglite in her mouth, pointed the gun.

Movement in the woods, just on the outskirts of her light. She wanted to scream, but the light gagged her. She took the light out of her mouth.

“Go away! Shoo!”

And then, just to add emphasis to her words, she lifted the gun over her head and pulled the trigger.

The sound cracked the night, resounded through the forest, echoed against the dark vault above.

In its wake, a terrifying yell came from the woods, and the light flickered through the trees. “Yah! Git!”

Gage?

She grabbed the flashlight, shone it into the woods.

The stream of light fell on a figure running on what looked like skis through the woods, his head lamp illuminating his path.

“Gage!”

“Get in the tent!” He cleared the edge of the clearing, just ten feet away, and that’s when she saw the dark form of a wolf dart behind him, into his path, snarling.

She screamed, lifted the gun, and only then realized someone had grabbed it from her.

“Get down!”

Not her voice, but Ollie’s, next to her. Gage dove for the entrance of the tent just as Ollie squeezed off a round.

The night exploded with a flash of light, and a dog howled in pain, whining.

“I think I hit it!” Ollie said. He was holding his side, crouched in the snow.

Gage struggled to get his boards off. “Get in the tent right now!”

But Ollie didn’t move. “Hurry up, man!” Ollie shouted.

Ella wanted to launch herself into Gage’s arms, but really, that was simply adrenaline.

And joy. Because he’d come back for her.

Gage got his boards off and scrambled to his feet. “Get inside!”

Ollie scooted back inside, and Ella felt Gage’s hands on her, guiding her in. She let him push her, turned, and saw him plop down beside her, pull his feet in, and zipper the door shut.

Then he just sat there, breathing hard, his chest rising and falling in great thunderous gulps.

She had no words as he unclipped his helmet, dragged it off. Then he turned and looked at Ollie, at Ella, then back to Ollie.

“I thought you were supposed to be dying or something.”

Oliver nodded. “I get that sometimes.” He looked pointedly at Ella.

But Ella’s gaze was on Gage, so much relief coursing through her she could hardly breathe. Ice encrusted his dark beard, the ends of his hair, tendrils around his face, framing his cold-reddened cheeks. He looked like some winter explorer back from the far reaches of the earth.

“You came back,” she whispered.

“I told you I would.” And for a long moment, his eyes held hers, so much warmth in them she felt it through to the core of her body.

In fact, she just might burst into flames.

Then he smiled. “Got any of that chili mac left?”

Brette eased herself back onto the bed and pulled the cotton blanket up as the nurse finished checking her vitals.

“You should be ready to go home in the morning.” A no-nonsense woman with short dark hair and the name Hanson on her badge, she’d come on shift and immediately made Brette get up and walk around. Brette’s protests fell on deaf ears. Now, however, nurse Hanson had turned Florence Nightingale, smiling at Brette. “There’s a handsome man waiting in the hallway for you. Shall I let him in when we’re finished?” She lifted the edge of the blanket to check Brette’s laparoscopic incision.

Brette nodded, feeling a smile curl up from inside. She’d finally found a hero worth writing about. A man without secrets, guile, or an agenda.

A man readers would be inspired by, the kind of guy who simply showed up. Loyal, sweet, compassionate. Trustworthy.

Her own words from yesterday rang in her head. “Actually, it’s harder than you think to find a true hero. Everyone has secrets, and if you look hard enough, we’re all just hiding behind how we hope people view us.”

Not Ty. He seemed like a man without masks. Finally.

Brette pressed her fingers to her mouth, still feeling Ty’s kiss on her lips. So soft she could have imagined it but for the way he looked at her, so much sweet longing on his handsome face.

He hadn’t looked at Jess that way—Brette saw the difference now. “No, Jess and I are just friends.” His words had ended on a funny, almost incredulous laugh.

Her reporter’s brain had simply been working overtime, fetching facts that didn’t exist. Like her belief that Jess Tagg could be wealthy investment princess Selene Taggert.

Brette closed her eyes, her body aching from her walk. Ty had excused himself, and she’d suggested a run for ice cream. She didn’t want him to see her cry again.

And not just because the nurse made her practically trek the entirety of the Kalispell Regional Hospital but because his words had found soft, pliable soil in her heart. “I’m not leaving you.”

She knew what he meant. It wasn’t a declaration of happily ever after or anything, but still, her empty, lonely heart hung on to his words too much.

Oh, she could get into trouble this way. She could almost hear Ella, tiptoeing into the room, sinking down onto the side of her bed. Handing her a pint of mint chocolate chip ice cream. “No man is worth this kind of pain.”

Of course, the last time Ella did that, Brette had held the ice cream carton up to her face, her cheekbone still swollen. And then Ella had offered to drive her to the police station.

But Ty wasn’t the kind of man who would turn on her, lose control, treat her as if she were worthless.

“How’s your pain?” Nurse Hanson asked.

“Manageable,” Brette said, almost meaning it.

“You’re due for another pain pill in an hour. I’ll be back.” She squeezed Brette’s leg and headed out the door.

Brette sat up and raked her fingers through her tangled hair. She looked disastrous—a glimpse in the bathroom mirror told her that. But Ty hadn’t seemed to mind—

A knock, then the door opened.

She smiled.

Pete poked his head around the corner. “Hey.”

Oh. She kept her smile, feeling just a hint of a frown.

He came into the room, producing a spray of flowers in a vase. White daises, a few yellow roses. “I just wanted to come by and say I’m sorry for being a jerk earlier today.” He set the flowers on a tray near the bed.

Really?

He looked like he meant his apology, the way he turned and shoved his hands into his pockets. He still wore his blond hair back in a bandanna, a grizzle of gold on his chin, and now gave her a wry smile. “I wasn’t myself. Or maybe I was, but I’m trying not to be, so much.”

She hadn’t a clue what he meant, but his self-effacing comment had her warming to him. “That’s okay. I know I shouldn’t pry—it’s the reporter in me.”

“If you want to ask about the stuff that happened last summer, I’ll tell you. It’s just not that exciting. And, frankly, it’s not like any one of us wouldn’t have done the same thing. My brother, Sam, for example, was really the one who rescued the missing kids this summer. Their van went over a cliff, and he and his girlfriend, Willow, hiked them out to safety. He nearly died doing it too. He’d make a great story.”

“Oh. Okay, thanks.” But that wasn’t the story she was hoping for, really. “Um . . . can I ask you a question?”

He glanced down at the chair Ty had occupied. Picked it up and turned it around, straddling it. He hung his arms over the back. “Go for it.”

“What about Ty? He mentioned that he used to be the main pilot before Kacey came on the scene. He was a little dodgy about why Kacey took over.”

“She’s a decorated pilot,” Pete said.

“He said that.”

“And we needed someone, especially after the crash,” Pete continued. “Ty was pretty shaken up after the accident, and the ordeal—and he’s still getting used to his new knee, so . . .” He lifted a shoulder. “I think Chet realized that Ty wasn’t going to get back in the cockpit anytime soon. And Chet certainly couldn’t do it. He can barely walk. And I’m sure there’s some tension there, especially since Chet nearly died. Kacey was coming home anyway to be with her daughter, so I guess Chet saw a chance to get her on the team.”

Brette just stared at him, trying to process the information. Accident. Ordeal. New knee. Chet nearly dying. “Oh, wow, uh . . .” And she was trying to figure out where to start when he held up his hand.

“Wait.” Pete stood up and pulled his phone from his pocket. He answered it. “’Sup?”

He glanced at Brette, nodded. Then, “Roger that. I’ll track him down. But did you call Jess? He might be at her place.” A pause. “Okay, well, I’ll look around, then head back.” He hung up.

When he turned back to Jess, he wore a grim expression. “We got a call from Gage. He found Oliver, but apparently he’s hurt and they need an extraction. They’re waiting for the winds to die down, but we might have to go in on snowmobile. Have you seen Ty?”

She was about to shake her head, but his words suddenly registered. “What did you mean, he might be at Jess’s place?”

“Oh, they’re dating. Let me know if he turns up.” He turned to leave, was two paces to the door when he stopped. “If you need anything, consider me a friend. I’ll see if I can track down my brother for that interview too.”

She managed a nod, but he vanished out the door before his words could register.

She simply couldn’t get past “Oh, they’re dating.”

Dating.

She felt as if a hand had reached in and run claws along her insides. Dating?

She couldn’t breathe. Closed her eyes.

She rewound her memory to Ty leaning over the map, standing shoulder to shoulder with Jess. Wow, Brette had read that wrong.

Her memory, for a moment, focused on Jess. What else had she read wrong?

Brette slid out of bed, hobbled over to her personal effects in a plastic bag on the bed tray, and fished out her cell phone.

She climbed back into bed and pulled up her Facebook account. Searched for Selene Taggert.

Nothing.

She pulled up Instagram, did the same, then Tumblr, and finally Twitter.

Nothing.

Selene had been thorough in deleting her accounts.

Brette did a Google search and clicked on images.

Sure enough, Google still stored a few tagged photos of Selene, most of them taken during the allegations and arrest of her father. And these showed a woman with shorter hair and makeup; she was thinner, and for the most part her face was hidden by an arm, or a newspaper, or a jacket.

Inconclusive, but scrolling down she found a grainy old picture of an engagement announcement. Selene Taggert to marry Felipe St. Augustine. She clicked on the image, found it attached to a blog post over five years old detailing a lavish engagement party with pictures worthy of a gossip page.

26-year-old Felipe St. Augustine, heir to the 7.2 billion St. Augustine Corporation, celebrated his upcoming nuptials in a style fit for the daughter of American investment tycoon Damien Taggert.

The first shot showed beautiful Selene Taggert wearing a silver sequined dress, waving while standing in the cutout of a stretch limousine, her handsome fiancé beside her with one arm around her neck, the other holding a bottle of frothy champagne.

The second was a Vine that ran over and over of Selene on a dance floor of some New York Club, laughing as she danced with a group of people.

Brette stilled.

Selene stood in the middle of the room, one arm raised. Beside her, her fiancé bobbed, clearly laughing. And behind him, in a shot caught over and over, a man turned and flashed a smile at Selene.

Tall. Dark hair, curly around the ears. A hint of five o’clock shadow.

Brette would recognize that smile anywhere.

Ty Remington.

He wore a printed T-shirt, a suit coat with the collar up, and his sunglasses tucked in the center of his shirt.

Ty knew Selene Taggert.

The realization rushed over her.

Brette’s instincts hadn’t been addled by her appendicitis attack. Jess Tagg was Selene Jessica Taggert. More, Ty knew it.

And was hiding her.

Brette felt suddenly naked and foolish as she recalled telling him her story. He was probably out right now, warning Selene, telling her to run.

Brette leaned her head back and closed her eyes, her heartbeat hammering in her chest. She was a fool. She ached everywhere, and not just because of her surgery.

The door opened. Footsteps. Please let it be Nurse Hanson with my meds.

“I had to go all the way to the Griz, but I scored us ice cream sandwiches.”

She opened her eyes and just stared at him.

Ty stood in the wan light of the room, holding two sandwiches, grinning at her.

“Get out.” The words surprised even her, but she didn’t pull them back.

His smile fell and he frowned, clearly rattled. “What?”

His fake innocence only raked up the hurt. The betrayal. “Get away from me. I can’t believe I trusted you. You knew all this time who Jess was, and you just stood there and lied to me.”

And if she was wondering if it was true, if she was simply misjudging him, the question died with the ashen hue of his face. “Brette,” he said, his voice low, as if trying to calm her.

“No, I don’t want to hear it. Please just leave.” Her throat burned, her eyes glazed, but she refused to cry in front of him.

He set the ice cream on the table. “No.”