Page 48 of Mountain Mens' Curvy Obsession

I smile as I follow the road signs leading up to Whitefish, then Trego.

“It would’ve been lucrative, yes,” I tell Mills. “And we were tempted to accept Aleks’s offer, to be perfectly honest. We would’ve stayed close and we would’ve been able to better protect Anya, too. I don’t mean to toot my own horn, but I doubt the Sokolovs would’ve been able to pull off that Dalton horror if we’d stuck around.”

“But?”

“We were done with the violence. And we had enough money from our military contracts. Besides, we freelanced a lot in our downtime with the Navy,” I say. “The financial stimulus Aleks offered didn’t compare to what we got from settling here in Seeley Lake.”

“Granted, you fellas brought the whole region back to life, buying up all of those failed businesses, injecting just enough seed money to get them off the ground again,” Mills replies. “We are better off with you here.”

“I do have the occasional regret about it,” I confess. “Not that I regret putting so many of our resources into Seeley Lake, but rather not being able to protect Aleks and Anya. I shudder to even imagine what she must’ve been doing in the two years she was underground.”

Mills nods slowly. “I can look into her family, too. Maybe I can figure out where she might’ve gone. There had to have been a shelter or something, not in her name or her father’s. I can cross-check with other members of the Asimov family and their business associates. It’s a well-known practice among the Eastern Europeans that they transfer properties and goods to different folks in their families and circle of close friends to avoid detection.”

“Sure. If you can, and if it doesn’t trigger any red flags anywhere in the system, it’s definitely worth looking into it.”

Once we reach Whitefish Mountain, Mills and I agree to dump Max’s car somewhere as close to the Canadian border as possible, while leaving a consistent credit card trail along the way before we lose the cards, too. I keep Max’s phone but disable every network connection and GPS tracking system in it, then turn it off.

“We’ll turn it back on when we get back to the lodge,” I say to Mills. “You know we have a security system in place there, with frequency jammers and all that jazz.”

“Still not happy about it, but given the circumstances, it does come in handy.”

It’s a bit outside the scope of the law for us to be in possession of such technology, but Mills has been gracious and looked the other way, while we’ve kept a discreet and virtually undetectable digital footprint over the past few years.

We stand on the edge of the road, the night reigning overhead with a flurry of stars. It’s cold, and I’m shivering underneath this jacket, but I experience relief as I glance down into the ravine, where Max’s car has just landed with a crunch and a metallic thud. The bushes do a great job of covering most of it.

“It’ll snow in the morning,” Mills says, checking the forecast on his phone. “In this area, specifically.”

“That should help cover it better,” I reply.

He turns around to look at me. “Chance is coming to pick us up, right?”

“Yes, sir.” I check my phone again. “ETA one hour.”

“I would’ve taken my department-issued car, but—”

“Best to keep your involvement to a minimum on any of the traffic cams. We were careful enough,” I reply.

“Why are you doing this? You’re going to great lengths to protect Anya Asimova when you could simply hand her over to the FBI or something.”

It’s a good, legitimate question. We did debate the possibility, but our hearts wouldn’t let us. She is safer with us, and we’ve become bound to Anya on a much deeper level. It’s not just a sense of responsibility on our part… it’s more. I dare not dream of what could be between us, not under these circumstances.

But I would very much like to give it a try.

“We need evidence. That’s what the USB drive is for. Besides, we’re not sure the Feds can actually protect Anya,” I say, hoping it makes enough sense to Mills not to ask further questions regarding our motives. “We don’t know how well connected the Sokolovs are. I think it’s best if we take them down first, then let Anya work with the Feds to bury the Sokolovs for good. Until then, she’s our responsibility.”

“I’ll admit, what you guys are doing is incredible. It takes some balls, man.”

“We’re just trying to do right by her.”

“You care about her, don’t you?” he asks me, and I pick up on the meaning behind his question. He’s known my brothers and me for long enough to have a clue as to what kind of relationships we build with a woman. “On a deeper level,” Mills adds.

“Yes.”

It’s all I can say. And it’s all my friend needs to understand that there’s nothing I wouldn’t do to keep Anya safe and happy from now on.

“It’s gonna get messy. You know that, right?” Mills says, almost reading my mind.

“I do. Here’s hoping we all survive what’s coming.”

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