Heston (In the Company of Snipers #25)

Chapter One

The White River’s water was running cold.

Damned cold.

The frosty fog hovering over it like a thick quilt was colder, making it hard to inhale without the half-balaclava Alex had tucked over his nose and mouth to warm his breath.

He took hold of Kelsey’s shoulders and turned her around to face him.

She’d been awestruck as the splendid glory of Mount Rainier’s northeast flank unfolded.

Mountains stretched as far as she could see, some snowcapped and grander than others, some covered in the verdant greens of stately Douglas Firs, Sitka Spruce, Western Cedar, the ever-persistent Balsam, and Mountain Hemlock.

Lush valleys overflowing with vine maple, mock orange, sword fern, and the occasional Madrone, divided the peaks into protective canyons that sheltered a wealth of wildlife.

Among them, Washington state’s unique Roosevelt Elk, the largest of the surviving subspecies of elk.

While the majestic creature’s geographic range extended to the temperate rain forests in Oregon and Northern California, it was Theodore Roosevelt the animal was named for, and Roosevelt who’d created Olympic National Park to protect his noble namesake.

First and foremost, this hike was Kelsey’s idea of a getaway, and Alex’s job was to make sure she got what she wanted from what might be their last retreat from the world for a long while.

An enormously tough decision lay ahead for both of them.

He’d been approached by the President of the United States, President Adams to serve as his Vice President, an onerous calling Alex knew damned well he hadn’t the skills, tact, or patience for.

Yes, he was dedicated to his Commander-in-Chief, and yes, despite being former military, or maybe because of it, he still lived to serve.

Alex’s problem with accepting the offer was simply that the VP role was all about diplomacy, white-wash bullshit, and propaganda, essentially kissing the President’s and Congress’s asses.

Becoming an obedient, subservient yes-man wasn’t a skill Alex was known for.

His modus operandi could be summed up in ten bolded words: Lead.

Follow.

Or get the hell out of my way.

Hell being an interchangeable word, depending on the circumstances or the fool dumb enough to stand in his way.

The challenge to Kelsey, if Alex accepted his president’s invitation, would be just as arduous, maybe more so.

Arduous because she’d be instantly cast into a hostile spotlight along with him, and he was already considered a pariah by the very biased press.

They hated him.

He hated them more, especially if they ever attacked Kelsey again like they had in the past.

So when she’d suggested hiking the Wonderland Trail that circled Washington’s Mount Rainier, Alex had jumped at the chance.

He needed alone time with the woman who had never, not even once, let him down.

The faithful woman who’d always had his back.

Who’d defended him to his enemies, nursed him when he’d been stupid and got hurt on the job, and loved him through his darkest nights and his bleakest moments.

Hell, she’d baked more treats for the people in his office than the local bakery did for their daily customers.

Kelsey was simply it for him. He’d hike to the moon and back for her, if it were possible.

The day began sunny, and the sky was still a crystal blue bowl over their heads.

Not for long, though.

A frigid storm front had piled mile-high, dark and ominous clouds to the north behind their backs.

They needed to be off Mount Rainier’s famous Wonderland Trail and safe inside the bed-and-breakfast Alex had reserved for the last three nights of their getaway before that storm hit.

For the moment, they were standing high on the southern bank of the upper White River, just short of the Emmons Glacier icefield.

Because of recent severe summer temperatures, previously unknown in Washington’s history, the glaciers above were melting at record speeds, and all of Rainier’s rivers and streams were running inordinately high.

The White was no different.

Its granite banks had been cut sharp by the fierce erosion of this year’s spring runoff.

There was no shoreline, just dark gray granite edges, wet from the splashing river for perhaps the first time in its history.

The previous night, they’d pitched their tent at White River campgrounds.

At zero-dark-thirty, they’d broken camp, then hiked higher up the mountain than they probably should’ve.

But Kelsey wanted to watch the sun rise on the last morning of their getaway, and Alex lived to serve her more than he did President Adams.

So they’d packed their gear, slung their onerous, overladen backpacks onto their shoulders, and crossed the footbridge over the noisy White River to Goat Island Mountain, before any other campers stirred.

They’d climbed in the dark as high onto Emmons Glacier as they’d dared, and made it just in time to watch the sun spread its first pink rays across the magnificent landscape below.

Alex had to admit the view was breathtaking and worth every step of the climb.

The dark purple horizon had turned the softest pink before it had shattered into hues of orange juice, then lemonade.

While Kelsey oohed and aahed, he’d held her back against his front, his nose in the top of her head.

More than any sunrise or sunset, Alex was thankful for the woman in his arms.

The sunrise was just another sunrise to him, but Kelsey was his miracle. The real deal.

After the sun rose, they’d deliberated climbing farther west to the peak of Mount Ruth, an elevation of eight thousand six hundred and ninety-some feet.

But that would’ve been foolish, considering the ice fields between here and there, and Alex was opposed to putting his diminutive wife at peril.

They hadn’t brought ice axes or crampons along to facilitate hiking the glacier.

So together they’d decided against besting Mount Ruth and opted to save that adventure for the day when their children, Lexie and Bradley, could join them.

Slinging his gear off his shoulders and stowing it at his feet, Alex tugged the balaclava from his mouth and pointed south.

“See that one? Do you know which peak it is?”

Still facing him, Kelsey glanced sideways, the delighted grin splitting her pretty face and making her rosy cheeks glow.

Yup, this cocky Washington native knew the Cascade Range like the back of her hand.

Reaching one hand up, she slipped her balaclava down under her chin and replied, “Sure, I see it, and of course I know which peak it is.

That, my dear, is Mount Adams and to the right is Mount Hood in Oregon.

We can’t see Mount Saint Helens from here because it blew its top, and now it’s a National Volcanic Memorial.

But it’s still”

—she pointed a finger west of Mount Hood— “r-r-right about there.

Maybe we’ll see it on the flight home.”

“And that?”

he quizzed her, pointing due east.

You wouldn’t think a woman could smile wider, but Kelsey did.

The best thing about her was that smile.

It was what hooked him all those years ago, the way she faced every day with positivity and her just-as-big heart, the way she forgave easily and loved deeply.

Even some folks who never deserved it.

Like him.

He’d been a selfish, mean bastard when they’d first met, and he wasn’t sure he’d changed much since. Even if he had, he’d never measure up to the gentle person she was. He’d never be that good or that kind.

She cocked her head at him, her brown eyes full of sparkles and love.

“Aww, that’s home, Alex,”

she breathed into his face.

“Our home.”

He closed his eyes, and… Yeah.

His tough heart melted and his usually unbending knees wobbled.

Just knowing he was loved by Kelsey made him a better man.

Hell, she made him a better human being.

She leaned into him, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing her breasts against his chest.

Both covered in too much padding.

Not like he didn’t already know precisely what was beneath the cute winter jacket she was wearing and the padded flannel shirt beneath it.

Alex knew and he licked his lips at the thought of spending three more nights with her without interruption.

Without clothes.

They deserved every pleasurable second of this mini-vacation, and he was going to make sure she got that, too.

Pulling back just enough to look down at her, Alex planted a kiss on her forehead.

“Yes, sweetheart, that’s home.

Do you miss it?”

She shrugged, her gaze locked on his eyes.

“Yes and no.

Sure I miss Lexie and Baby Bradley, but we needed this break, Alex.

It’s been a long time since it’s been just you and me.

And if getting you up on this mountain is the only way I can get you away from your phones, office, your helicopter, and”

—she shook her head, still encased in a black woolen cap with a bright pink pompom on top— “all that work, then from now on we’re hiking the world.”

Her voice pitched higher as she spoke.

Damn, he loved her enthusiasm.

Kelsey was too beautiful for words.

“All you ever have to do is say the word, sweetheart, and I’ll never go back to my office again.

I’m retired.

You know that.”

He’d told her that many times before.

She had the nerve to giggle.

“Yeah, right.

I know how much you love what you do, and that you’re not ready to retire, even though you said you would.

I’m no dummy.

I can see how you snap into command mode whenever your phone rings.

They still need you and you need them. Right?”

He opened his mouth to protest, but she beat him to it with, “Admit it.

You’ll never be content to sit home, watching TV, changing diapers, or running your dad to his appointments.

Mr.

Mom is not who you are, Alex.

Besides, that’s my job.”

She almost sounded offended, but he knew better.

“You’re Mr. Mom?”

he teased.

Kelsey turned toward where Mount Saint Helens had once stood, tall and proud. “I’m…”

She took a deep breath, then let it go on a sigh.

“I’m what I’ve always wanted to be, Alex.

I’m Lexie’s and Bradley’s mom.

I’m your wife, the keeper of your castle, your heart, and your—”

Suddenly, her skull jerked viciously to the right.

Her stocking cap with its bright pink pompom hung suspended in the air behind her.

Mist? Mist! A gawddamned red mist puffed off the left side of her face.

Above her ear.

Her big brown eyes closed, as if she’d been… as if she’d been…

She’d been shot! Up here in the middle of no-gawddamned-where!

“Kelsey!”

Alex bellowed, reaching to pull her in tight before she fell, before he lost her.

But her body had twisted to her left.

Precisely as the son of bitchin laws of physics demanded when kinetic energy impacted flesh and bone.

The body rotated away from the impact.

Like a damned top.

His fingers caught a tenuous hold of the edge of her coat sleeve.

He’d no more than gripped it when a wicked pain pierced his shoulder.

The energy from that hit knocked him away from Kelsey and flat on his ass.

The nerve! Not a solid hit, but who the hell was shooting at them?

‘Too high,’ Alex thought as he pushed back to his knees, breathing hard, his eyes watering at the impact.

That badly spaced second hit meant a single sniper had taken both shots.

The first, the steadier, more accurate shot that hit Kelsey, the second taken in haste.

Too quickly.

Before the sniper could regain his calm space, slow his breathing, move his rifle to reacquire the crosshairs on his scope, clear his vision enough to refocus on his second target, and fire.

The son of a bitch had sacrificed accuracy for speed.

But he’d hit Kelsey! And worse, Alex had lost hold of her.

In the few seconds it took him to get back to his feet, her slack body tilted backward, toward the icy snow field they’d climbed earlier.

Where she would too soon slide into the creek fed by that snow field.

And from there—God, no!—into the churning white water rapids of the White River.

Alex scrambled to get her back into his arms.

He stretched both hands out to her, but the tips of his boots failed to dig in.

Her slack weight slid too quickly from his reach.

The momentum created by the steep terrain took her away and—

Splash.

She fell into the White River.

Face first without struggling.

Without even knowing she’d been shot.

Was she dead?

“Son of a bitch!”

Alex ran, heart-pounding panic driving him into the river, his arms stretched over his head in a dive to intercept her limp body before she disappeared.

Both of them bounced over lava smoothed slick by eons of ice and erosion, but—

He couldn’t reach her!

“Kelsey!”

he roared above the noisy torrent, the frigid wind in his eyes, blurring the path forward, making it harder to differentiate her jacket from the froth and shadows of the rapids.

At last, he got close enough to snag the heel of her boot.

Just the heel.

But he had her, by God! He’d saved her and he could fix this.

He still had the sat phone she hated so much in his inner jacket pocket.

He knew people, damn it, and he would call every last one of them for help. This was not the end. But no, no, no! Her tiny boot slipped off her foot and—

“Kelsey!”

Alex didn’t feel the cold.

Not the harsh smack of boulders, trapped logs, and branches pummeling his injured shoulder, his thighs, chest or glutes.

Not the sting of silt in his eyes.

Like a madman, he stabbed through the raging water with powerful, forward thrusts of arms and legs.

His sodden boots, now heavy with ice water, held him back.

He went under. The White River roared around him in a punishing maelstrom as he sank beneath it. The sky turned black, and—

Like hell!

He fought the river with all he had.

He would not die until he saved Kelsey.

He refused! But by the time his head broke the surface, she was nowhere in sight.

No trace of her anywhere.

Son of a bitch!

He wasn’t giving up, just needed a way to slow this damned river.

He couldn’t catch his breath, much less his footing long enough to be able to spot where she’d gone.

No way to project his bleary sight forward or backward.

No way to grab anything strong enough to stop himself from being pulled along.

No way to know if she were still alive and struggling or if—or if—

The wicked current forced his head under yet again, gawddamnit! Shaking it off, he came up spitting mad, but still no sign of the woman he’d gladly die for.

No sign of that damned pink pompom because it wasn’t on her pretty head where it should’ve been.

He powered on, blinking against the foamy, blistering river that would sand his corneas into milky blindness if he didn’t get his ass to dry land.

Abject misery poured into Alex as he faced reality and let his body slam against one of many fallen logs, itself trapped under the raging river, between two boulders the size of Volkswagens.

He had two choices: save himself and run the riverbank searching for his wife, or keep fighting the white water and see nothing, find nothing.

Alex clung to the massive log the river kept him pressed against.

There was no other way.

No choice.

To save Kelsey, he had to save himself first.

Tears came unbidden, rolling down his face in a hot stream the river snatched away as quickly as it had Kelsey.

But he would find her.

He would save her and warm her, and he would serve her to the end of her days.

He would.

Even if it killed him.