Black Ice

I stared down at my scratched, bleeding hands. I couldn't find my voice.

"I heard you screaming. I thought a bear-" He drew a rocky breath.

Without thinking, I pressed my face to his chest. A sob hung in my throat. I just wanted to be held. Even if it was by Jude.

Jude stood stiffly, startled by my embrace. When I didn't let go, his hands moved hesitantly up to my arms. He stroked them reluctantly at first, then settled into a soothing rhythm. I was glad he didn't touch me like he thought I'd break. I needed to know he was solid and real. When he cradled my head against his chest and murmured soothingly into my ear, I couldn't fight the tears any longer. I buried my face into his coat, crying freely.

"I'm right here,” he said gently. "I'm not leaving. You're not alone." He rested his chin on top of my head, and I found myself instinctively nestling closer. I was so cold. So bone-cold, so sucked of warmth, chilled to the very core. It felt good to let him hold me.

Right there, in the frigid air, Jude took off his coat and wrapped it around my shoulders. "Tell me what happened."

I didn't want to think back. How ridiculous he would think I was. A wolverine, however vicious, was nothing to cry over. It could have been worse. It could have been a grizzly. I was drawing air too quickly, and it was making my head float sickeningly.

"Take this."Jude offered me a small bottle from his coat pocket. I was so rattled, I hardly felt the liquid burn down my throat. It was cold like water, but bitter, and I sputtered and coughed as I tipped the bottle for more. Soon a certain warmth crept into my body, and my breathing relaxed.

"At first I thought it was a bear." I squeezed my eyes shut, hearing my breath start to hitch again. I could still see the animal's snarling lips behind my eyelids. "It was a wolverine and it charged me. I thought it was going to kill me."

"It must have heard me coming, realized it was outmatched, and bolted. It was gone by the time I found you,” he said, holding me tighter.

After I composed myself, I took a long sip from the bottle and continued, "It was hiding in an old fur trapper's hut, one that I think a girl was found dead in last October. I remember seeing a very similar hut on the news when they reported finding her body, and a minute ago I saw a small piece of yellow crime-scene tape in the sagebrush outside the hut. I think it's the same one. I found a bone outside the hut. It can't be hers, can it? The crime scene investigators would have made sure to remove all her remains, right? please tell me you don't think it was hers!"

I remembered the hollow way the bone had felt in my hand. A shell of death. It made me think of the leathery, decomposed body in the storage room of the first cabin. At that moment, I felt certain that death was pressing in from every reach of the mountains. What had ever made me want to come to this horrible place?

Jude took me by the shoulders, examining my face intently. His expression clouded and his lips pressed tight with concentration. "Which girl?"

"Kimani Yowell. Do you remember hearing about her on the news? She was a senior at Pocatello High School, and was already a concert pianist. She was invited around the country to play. Everyone said she'd go to Julliard; she was that good. And then her boyfriend killed her. He strangled her and dragged her body up here to hide it.”

”I remember her,” Jude said remotely, looking off in the distance.

"What kind of guy kills his own girlfriend?"

Jude did not answer. But something dark and unpleasant darted across his features.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

As we made our way back to camp, Jude walked slightly closer to me than usual. It was hard to believe that only two days ago, I'd shamelessly flirted with him at the 7-Eleven, viewing him as some kind of godsend who was saving me from humiliating myself. In two days, I'd gone from adoring him, to deploring him, toAt this moment, I didn't know what to feel. I didn't know what to think.

Our sleeves accidentally brushed. Jude didn't pull away or apologize. In fact, he seemed so unbothered by it, I wondered if he noticed. I noticed. His closeness made a strange, slippery warmth pour through me. I stole a fleeting glance up at him. Unshaven and sleep deprived, he still managed to look hot. Like a rugged REI model. He spent time outdoors-it showed in his coloring and the sun-lightened tips of his hair. A few faint lines fanned out from his eyes, the kind you got from squinting into the sun. And he had the faintest raccoon eyes from wearing sunglasses. Instead of corny, it looked almost sexy.

Despite exhaustion, he walked with his shoulders squared with purpose. Beneath his dark brows, his eyes gazed out at the world with a long, cool stare. Part calculating, part discriminating, I decided. But under the surface, I detected a glimmer of uneasiness. I wondered what he was afraid of, what scared him most. Whatever his fears were, he kept them buried deep.

He saw me looking at him. Immediately, I averted my gaze. I couldn't believe he'd caught me staring. More than ever, I resented any attraction I might be feeling to him. He was my captor. He held me against my will. His recent kindness didn't change that. I had to remind myself of who he really was.

But who was he really? He and Shaun had never made sense as partners. Jude-Mason-had never been cruel. And he had tried to warn me and Korbie not to come in the cabin. I gave a conflicted sigh. Nothing about Jude added up.

"First order of business, get you warm,” he said. "After that, we have to find food. It's too early for berries, so we're going to have to hunt."

The past two days I'd been wary and even suspicious of Jude's seeming concern for my well-being. This time, I found myself deeply curious about his motives. When Calvin had first started showing an interest in me, he'd showered me with compliments, teased me affectionately, and made little excuses to see me, all of which were flattering, but the biggest clue that he liked me was his sudden interest in taking care of me. When it frosted, he scraped my car windows. At the movie theater, he made sure I had a seat in the middle of the row. When my Wrangler was in the shop, he insisted on driving me everywhere. Maybe I was reading into Jude's gestures too deeply, but I wondered if his concern for me was more than plain chivalry.

Did he feel something for me?

I sternly reminded myself that it didn't matter. Because I wasn't going to reciprocate his feelings, real or imagined.

"How did you know I drive an orange Wrangler, and how did you know my dad loves fly-fishing?" I suddenly asked him, stepping over a fallen tree nearly hidden under the snow.

"There were two cars in the parking lot of the 7-Eleven. An older-model orange Jeep Wrangler and a BMW XS. When I walked into the store, I immediately pinned your ex with the Bimmer, and you with the Wrangler,” he explained. "It had two faded, peeling bumper stickers: 'My Other Ride Is a Drift Boat' and 'I Brake for Rimes.' I assumed the Wrangler belonged to your dad before he gave it to you."