Page 60 of Smoky Lake

“He was slinging insults at you…”

“You think I care what he thinks?” He cupped her chin in his hand and tipped her face toward him. “I care what you think. That doesn’t extend to him. Besides, it’s not easy to pass the DSS test. I might not be my genius brother, but I’m smart enough.”

She blinked back a tear that threatened to spill, and ran her tongue over her lips. “I swear I’m not usually the emotional-meltdown type. I don’t cry on anyone’s shoulder except those of my friends, and only on really bad days.”

“Sweetheart, if you need to cry, you go on and cry.” Where had that “sweetheart” come from? He didn’t normally use endearments like that with women. But it had slipped out so naturally. If she noticed, she didn’t show it.

“It’s not because of him. It really isn’t. He just doesn’t mean that much to me anymore. I was just afraid…” She reached up and touched his hair. “Afraid he’d ruin something else for me. I was afraid you’d want to stay far away from me after seeing my messy ex.”

A boulder shifted inside him. The weight on his heart—the fear that she was still attached to John—evaporated. In its place there was a giddy sense of hope.

“Fuck that,” he said bluntly. “The only thing that could make me stay away from you is…you.”

In a flash, his mouth was on hers, or maybe hers was on his, it was such a simultaneous move that he wasn’t sure who had initiated it. He dove into the soft velvet of her mouth, the salt of her tears giving their kiss a depth that turned his head. How far would he go for this woman? How deep would he go? What if there was no limit?

His better judgment battled with his lust. He wanted to put those condoms to use right now. Maybe he could climax her tears away. But there were other considerations right now, even more urgent ones.

Reluctantly, still savoring the taste of her, he drew away. “We need to move.”

“What? Why?” She looked drugged from that kiss; he wanted a permanent portrait of her just like that mounted in his brain.

“The tracker. They know you’re here.”

Her smile dropped. “Yes, okay, you’re right. We’ll leave the tracker here so they think we’re holed up having fun.”

“That’s the idea. There’s more.”

He told her about his trip to Victor’s house, the people watching it, and what the checkout girl had told him. “I think we should sneak away from here and get to Firelight Ridge. I think Victor went back to Smoky Lake.”

After a few moments, she nodded. “And so we say goodbye to yet another hotel room. It’s fine, this room has bad vibes now anyway. You’re right, let’s get out of here. One thing, though.” She planted a hand on his chest and gave him a look filled with so much scorching heat that his skin flushed. “Promise me we’ll sleep somewhere tonight where we can use those damn condoms.”

Hell. Yes.

28

Evasive driving techniques—losing a potential tail—were great, but they weren’t exactly a beeline to sex. And Fairbanks was hardly a big city with endless neighborhoods to wend their way through. After barely a day, Gil knew the layout well enough to take the most circuitous route possible back to the Parks Highway, the only road headed south.

His hope was that the tracker would fool any potential pursuers into thinking they were still in the hotel room. He’d left the light on, blinds halfway closed, a sweater slung on the back of a chair visible from the outside.

And—he’d left the truck in the parking lot, and sprung for a new vehicle. One thing about Alaska, there was no shortage of beater cars with ‘for sale’ signs in their windows. He chose a 2001 red Subaru that needed a new battery. He took a Lyft to Costco and back to take care of that detail.

“I’ve noticed a lot of Subarus on the road,” he told Ani when they finally headed away from the hotel. He’d picked up a camouflage hunter’s cap for himself for even more blending in. For Ani, he’d grabbed a package of hair ties and a bandanna. She’d put her hair into two braids, fashioned the bandanna into a head scarf, and tucked a yellow daisy under the edge. Now she looked like a twenty-five-year-old hippie chick headed to a music festival.

He couldn’t wait to get her all to himself again.

“Have you noticed anyone following us?” She kept nervously checking the rearview mirror.

“Nope. No John, either.”

“Hopefully he’s on his way back to Indiana. What do you think he meant about me working for a competitor?”

“I can’t say, but it must have to do with this virus. What if Victor found a treatment, and he was trying to sell it to someone? Then you stumble into the middle of this and they think you’re working for the competition. You are a doctor, after all. Maybe that seemed like a red flag to them.”

“It sounds like a stretch.” She let out a long sigh. “What about those diplomatic plates?”

“Can we believe that part? He lied about Mrs. Bigelow.”

“He did! She’s such a sweet lady, too. Who would lie about Mrs. B?”

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