Page 25 of The Engineer

“Fuck.” He lifted his hands, his palms gleamed, greasy with some kind of lubricant.

“What the hell is that?”

“Power steering fluid.” He bent and wiped his hands on the churned snow. “Line is mangled.” His expression became stony. “I changed the oil last week. Everything was perfect then.”

“Oh.” She chewed on her upper lip, not wanting to think about the implications that the effort to stop them was so concerted. “They must have done it when they came to your house. Is it fixable?”

“We need steering fluid to top up the reservoir.” He let the hood drop with a thump. “I don’t have any here.”

First his apartment, and now this. Raptor was close to inflict this kind of damage. She glanced over her shoulder. Too close.

“We passed a viewpoint not long ago. There’s a hut only a few miles from here. That’s our best bet.” He lurched toward the car trunk, the deep snow making his steps ungainly.

A few miles? Biting air leached heat from her wet hair. She already couldn’t feel her feet.

Griff pulled out the backpack he’d taken from the store and began unpacking it.

“Zip yourself up before you turn into a popsicle.” He zipped up her still open jacket till it was snug against her chin, then pulled a hat over her head. Soft wool hugged her smarting ears.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He tugged mittens on over her hands and then set a backpack over her shoulders before pulling on several layers himself.

“Let’s go” He slipped his hand through hers and for a moment she was going to protest. Was this how security worked nowadays? Did he hold all his client’s hands? Her mouth opened to ask, but then she closed it firmly because if she asked he might let go, and deep down where she could see it but not acknowledge it, she didn’t want that to happen.

Instead, she fell into step beside him and held on to him. Handholding security. She could get on board with that. It was efficient, right? It meant he always knew where she was. And if she was lying to herself about what it really meant, right now, she didn’t care.

16

The wind bit through the fabric of Griff’s cargo pants, and his shins throbbed within minutes. His injured shoulder protested with every step, forcing him to clamp his teeth together. His seatbelt had snapped tight against the vulnerable area when the car took a dive. There was only so much crap an injured joint could handle, and he must be skating close to the edge right now.

But getting them to safety was his priority.

The night air was savage in his lungs and stung his nostrils. He leaned into it, breathing through the pain as he’d done so many times before during BUDS training. Pain was a transient frame of mind, and right now it kept him alert. There were painkillers in the first aid kit he’d taken from the car, but he wouldn’t risk taking them until they were somewhere safe.

His legs pumped harder as the gradient of the land rose steeply upward. He peered into the scudding whiteness. The hut had to be close.

“Griff.” Jo caught his elbow and pointed.

A murky shape squatted above them on the ridge, hunkered down against the howling weather. His estimate of their location had been spot on. Almost there.

“You okay?” He bent and spoke against the wool of her hat.

Her nose was pink and her eyes streamed from the storm, but Jo nodded and gave him a determined smile.

After their first meeting at the side of the road, he’d expected her to be a nightmare, but even with things getting unimaginably hard right now, she hadn’t complained once. She’d just plowed on.

Hell, for all her uptight prickles, when the chips were down and they were clinging to this mountain in the middle of a storm, Jo was putting up a good fight. In different circumstances, decent weather and on solid ground, he’d find that sexy as hell. But right now, his priority was survival.

“The trees will give us some protection.” He indicated the dense body of trees scrambling upward on their left and led the way.

They were only halfway up when he halted, his lungs wheezing sharp gasps. Straight ahead, obscured by snow, a shadowy form blocked their path. Instinctively, he raised his gun, but then the shadow moved.

A moose.

A smaller shadow pressed against the moose’s side. Her baby. The mama moose took stock of them with dark, inscrutable eyes. Griff was motionless. Moose were unpredictable with their babies and could do serious damage to a person if they were inclined. “Nice and easy. Let her pass.”

The moose made a snuffling noise and eyeballed him as she moved sideways, placing herself between them and her baby. A protective mama at her best. The pair cantered lower and then, with a toss of her head and audible snort, the mama ducked into a gap on the tree-line. The baby followed, skipping and stumbling to keep up.

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