Page 9 of Mountain Security

His clothes were the same. He didn’t own any that didn’t have at least one or two holes in them.

It wasn’t a purposeful choice, though. He simply didn’t enjoy shopping.

Or, rather, he didn’t enjoy shopping for clothes.

Electronic gadgets were different. He enjoyed following up on new trends, and he’d turned an extra bedroom in the house he rented with Ry and Hugo into his office slash gadget room. The others didn’t seem to mind, as long as he kept it neat so guests could stay over if necessary.

He dropped the backpack on the passenger seat of the SUV and closed the door.

When he looked back up at Yvette, she’d finally found what she was looking for—her car keys, it looked like. She stared at them with a satisfied expression on her face.

She was so fucking beautiful.

Alex was distracted by a roaring sound.

The black motorcycle came out of nowhere, zigzagging wildly on the icy road. The single occupant was dressed completely in black. When the motorcycle climbed onto the snowy sidewalk, Alex saw exactly where it was heading—towards Yvette.

“Yvette!” he shouted. “Get out of the way!”

She finally raised her head. Her eyes widened with horror as she caught sight of the motorbike. She stood there, like a deer in headlights, still clutching the keys and handbag in her arms—a frozen tableau.

Alex was closer to Yvette than the bike, but not by much. He exploded into action, going from zero to maximum speed faster than he’d ever done before, drawing on sprinting muscle memory. He didn’t bother to look back at the motorbike, his attention fully focused on Yvette, instead.

She stood so still, she didn’t even seem to be breathing anymore.

Alex panted, forcing his legs to move faster. He reached her and wrapped her in his arms, using his momentum to propel her back towards the building. They fell, together. At the last instant, he turned their bodies around so he would be the one to hit the sidewalk first. The jar reverberated up his left arm and shoulder, shocking in its intensity even though he’d been expecting it.

By the time he looked up, the motorcycle had already zoomed by, its thick treads covering the spot where Yvette’s heels had stood.

“Yvette!” He was yelling in her ear and had to force himself to lower his voice. “Are you okay?”

As she raised her head, he watched carefully for any signs of pain. But no, the only thing reflected in her beautiful brown eyes was shock.

“What—“

“Does anything hurt?”

She pulled away, and he gave her a bit of space. She sat up, still looking shocked.

“I … I could have become roadkill,” she said.

Alex laughed.

“That’s a very prosaic way of looking at it.”

Her forehead wrinkled. She looked in dismay at the papers, which had slipped out of her handbag and were now on the dirty snow.

“Oh, no,” she said. “I meant to sign some of those tonight.” She quickly shook her head. Her teeth worried her lower lip. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what I’m saying. The papers don’t matter. I—“

“Hey,” he said, patting her back gently. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”

She inhaled a shaky breath. “Thanks to you. Areyouokay?”

“I’m fine,” he said. He was going to have a killer bruise on his shoulder, but one of the advantages of the many sports he’d played while growing up was he knew how to take a fall.

“Those damned tourists,” she said, wiping a wet hand on the sleeve of her coat. “They drive like maniacs.”

Alex nodded noncommittally, but he wasn’t so sure about it. The black motorcycle hadn’t seemed like the kind a tourist would rent. He wished he’d been able to note down the license number.

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