LITMIR.BIZ

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might be climbing a mountain in the middle of the night.

      Unzipping the tent a couple of inches, she peered out into the inky blackness. She still wore her parka for sleeping, but she’d taken off her boots and gloves for the night. She felt more than saw the swirl of snow kicking up outside, the tiny flakes peppering her cheeks in a frigid blast. A gust of wind whistled past her ears, lifting the inner tent roof and whipping the outer fabric so hard she feared it might rip. The snow was coming down faster now. The powdery base had scaled the tent walls at least an inch since she’d pitched the shelter.

      A little bubble of panic rose inside her at the feeling of being closed in. She’d been drawn to mountain climbing as a teen to escape the suffocating home life with her mother, who was then in the early stages of a hoarding disorder. April had climbed to find fresh air and freedom, a place without walls of crap threatening to fall on her everywhere she looked. Now, as an adult, she lived in a beautifully spare home of her own, but she felt the urge to climb whenever stress built from dealing with her mom. April still tried to help, making scheduled trips over to the house where she’d grown up to make sure her mom was still going to counseling and hadn’t fired the professional organizer who came through once a month. Her mother’s house would always be cluttered—to put it mildly—but at least things were at a habitable level.

      Even knowing that she’d done all she could to make her mother’s disease manageable didn’t stem the memories of how bad things had been—and how quickly her mom could relapse. Which was why April hiked until her mind was clear again.

      So now, as she took in the way the snow covered the lower zipper on the tent, almost as if it was going to block her exit, her heart pounded fast. Her face heated despite the cold, a sweaty fear crawling up her scalp and making her see pinpricks of light in front of her eyes.

      Light?

      Frowning, she focused on the glow bobbing in the blizzard. As it grew closer, the bright spot seemed to rise in the sky.

      Coming toward her.

      “April.” A man’s hoarse voice carried on the wind just as a dark shadow took shape in front of her.

      Weston—wearing a headlamp—was stalking up the trail.

      “Here,” she called back, her softer voice mostly lost in the wind. She found her flashlight just inside the tent and flipped the switch so he could see her.

      As he entered the circle of illumination from her torch, she could tell how much conditions had worsened. He was covered with snow, from his jacket and pants to his helmet and balaclava. Even his goggles were coated. Knowing that he’d trekked through this weather to get to her filled her with new alarm.

      He crouched down near the entrance to the tent, his broad shoulders blocking the wind. Close enough to touch. He raked his goggles up and switched off the headlamp. His hazel eyes locked on hers, his demeanor as serious as the last time they’d met when he’d threatened to call security on her if she didn’t leave his office. Only now, he looked concerned.

      Worried, even.

      “We need to move you,” he told her, his gaze never wavering. “Carefully and quickly.”

      Confused, she shook her head. “I don’t understand.”

      “You’re in a well-documented avalanche corridor.” He spoke the words clearly and almost kindly, as if he weren’t talking about the imminent possibility of a deadly accident. “And conditions are only going to deteriorate with this storm.”

      She recognized now what he was doing. He was speaking to her like a rescue worker. Like someone used to dealing with people in terrifying danger. That manner of his, as much as the words themselves, sent a cold ball of fear into the pit of her belly.

      “Why—” Her breath stuck in her chest, and she couldn’t breathe for a moment as panic spiraled into every corner of her body. “Why didn’t you tell me in your text? I’ve just been sitting here...”

      She peered around the tent, calculating how long it would take to put on her gear. Another sharp gust tore at the outer tent. She was pretty sure she heard the fabric tear.

      “Look at me. April.” He spoke patiently, his tone still kind even though she’d made a horrible mistake in coming up here. Risking her neck and his. “You were safer staying put than you would have been out there when you don’t know the nuances of this trail. But I know this area like the back of my hand, and I’m going to take you to a safer location.”

      Nodding, she appreciated his calming presence while her mind raced. She had logged countless hours climbing in summer conditions, but not as many in the winter. One of her mentors back in Denver had told her that she should take an avalanche course, but she hadn’t gotten to that stage yet. Hadn’t known she’d need it for this peak so early in the winter. She felt foolish for endangering herself and—worse—Weston too.

      He couldn’t possibly know how much she hated being in this position, feeling like she’d screwed up. Like she’d overlooked something important.

      “Okay. Thank you.” Swallowing back her fear, she focused on his hazel eyes, needing to believe he was as confident as he sounded. “I’ll get my gear on.”

      He moved her out of harm’s way quickly enough.

      The knot of worry in Weston’s chest eased a fraction with each step they took away from the gully where she’d pitched her tent for the night. Avalanches were a real danger in that ravine. He hadn’t been a part of any rescue missions there, but there’d been another one ten years back that some of his team had experienced. Plus, he’d seen two avalanches with his own eyes on these peaks. Both had scared the hell out of him.

      And conditions tonight were prime. He was so damned grateful he’d found her, and that she’d been safe. Whole.

      The demons from his past had teeth, and they would still be gnawing on him when he closed his eyes tonight.

      “Where are we going?” she called to him through the wind, her voice doubly muffled by her scarf.

      They trudged side by side down the mountain, their pace slow in case of loose rocks under the snow. He’d offered her a second headlamp that he’d brought with him, but she had her own and wore it now. She’d been more prepared than he had anticipated, from her gear to her ease with packing quickly and efficiently.

      She’d been scared, though. He’d read the fear easily in her body language from her blinking eyes and darting gaze to her jerky movements, signs that would have been clear even if he hadn’t been trained to deal with frightened survivors. He’d done his best to calm her once they were out of the most dangerous area, but he could tell she was spooked. And he’d damn well been reassured this wasn’t a setup on her part. She hadn’t baited him out onto the mountain just for a chance to interrogate him about his dealings with Alonzo Salazar, the subject of her financial investigation.

      She would have had to be a good actress to fake the fear he’d witnessed earlier. The flash of panic in her blue eyes. The tremor in her voice. Although with her goggles on now, he had fewer cues to how she was doing.

      “There are safe campsites this way.” They hadn’t gone far from her original spot, since he wouldn’t risk a fall in the dark in these harsh weather conditions, but they were out of the ravine and following a ridge he knew well.

      “Shouldn’t we get off the mountain?” she pressed, leaning closer to him as she spoke.

      If he’d been alone—yes. He would have returned to the all-terrain vehicle he’d left at a trailhead. But he wouldn’t risk it with April in tow. Sure, she seemed like she must be a strong climber on a regular day. But it was late; she had to be tired and most definitely stressed. Bottom line, he didn’t trust her sure-footedness or her judgment and couldn’t risk going any farther than necessary.

      “Safer to make camp someplace I

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