Cover Me - By Catherine Mann Page 0,5

such thing as a stranger.

She gathered her scrambled thoughts and focused on his words. “My friends?”

How did he know about what she’d been doing today? She’d been on her own, escorting Ted and Madison to a deputy from the mainland who would take them the rest of the way. He worked for a small county along Bristol Bay and arranged for transportation by boat or plane, even bringing in supplies for them in an emergency.

Had something gone wrong after they’d left her? Ted and Madison were seasoned hikers, physically fit. They’d been frequent patrons of the fitness equipment she kept at the cabin that housed her survival and wilderness trek business. She couldn’t imagine there would have been any problem with their trek off Mount Redoubt to rejoin the outside world.

“The rest of your group. In case you were worried—which apparently you’re not—they’re all toasty warm with dry blankets up in the helicopter on their way back to the resort cabin, probably wishing they’d stayed in California. How is it that you have managed out here so long away from the group?”

Climbing group, from California? He must think she was a part of some other group. Relief burned through her like frostbitten limbs coming to life again. He didn’t know about Ted and Madison or the sheriff’s deputy, and he had no idea at all why she was really out here today.

She couldn’t afford—her relatives back in their community couldn’t afford—a single misstep. There were careful procedures for people who left, methods to protect their location. “I’ve had better survival training than the average person.”

And she would need every bit of that training to ditch this hulking big military savior when the time came to escape.

Chapter 2

He’d risked his neck for a woman who could teach a survival course at the base.

Wade jabbed a stick into the small fire, stoking it to life. Tough to believe a half hour ago he’d jumped out of an MH-60 with the intent of saving her. Crackling flames created a bowl of warmth and light in their little eight-by-eight cave. Damp logs weren’t ideal. They smoked thicker and reeked. But bits of bark and tinder they’d collected off the earthen floor worked.

At least they didn’t have to worry about snakes in Alaska—no reptiles, period, because of the cold.

She—whatever her name was—knelt beside her big old dog, brushing icicles from the mutt’s fur. He would have offered a hand, but she didn’t appear to need his help on any level. He couldn’t help but be fascinated by her skills and poise in a situation that would scare the pants off most people.

Too bad they hadn’t found her before the storm picked up speed and limited their options for extraction.

His other team members had loaded up the stranded climbers. He’d thought he was in the clear for finding his bunk. Then the infrared cameras had shown another person moving nearby.

They’d tried to get information out of the four rescued men, but they were nearly unconscious and completely incoherent. Franco and McCabe had their hands full administering first aid. There hadn’t been more than a second to decide if that additional warm body on the screen was human or not.

A second was all he needed.

Even the slim chance another person was alone and defenseless down there meant he had to try. With the worsening storm, rescue options had been slim.

Seconds after he’d parachuted in to rescue her, she had led him to this fissure in the mountain wall, with sure and expert footing. Their Alaskan grotto wasn’t exactly the Anchorage Hilton, but it beat the time he would spend freezing his tail off, carving out a tiny snow igloo.

So now he would hang out alone with this silently efficient woman for the night, possibly longer if the storm didn’t lift. The time would pass a lot faster if she spoke. But tension radiated off her in waves thicker than the black smoke spiraling toward the cave’s opening.

Granted, they were total strangers forced into close proximity. It was one thing to spend the night protecting an exhausted victim. Another entirely to bunk down with a healthy female who didn’t need anything from him. The long, dark hours stretched in front of him. Awkward as hell if something didn’t break the tension.

The stick in his hand glowed. He held it over his head like a lighter.

“‘Free Bird,’ ‘Free Bird…’” He chanted the concert mantra, thinking back to his partying teenage years.

“Pardon?” She glanced at him over her shoulder with