Her Last Protector. Jeanie London

forced to flee into these mountains. So many years should have dimmed the memory, drowned out the sounds of screams and tears and murder.

      Tat-tat-tat-tat-tat.

      It had been snowing then, too.

      CHAPTER THREE

      “DAMN,” DREW SAID ALOUD, not bothering to rein in his frustration.

      The tracks were fresh, and the snow came down so hard and fast, he had almost missed them. Inspecting the ruts, he followed the trail until determining that four snowmobiles had passed along this ridge. Probably not more than ten minutes ago.

      Given the altitude and climate conditions, Drew was willing to bet no sports enthusiast would be up here snowmobiling for kicks. No, he was looking at a second group of thugs patrolling points of egress. The terrain was difficult, essentially ineffective for launching a surprise attack on a funeral procession. Most likely these snowmobiles had carried scouts searching for the missing princess.

      Did they know about the tunnel? Would they be back?

      These were the only questions that interested Drew right now. And who was behind these well-organized thugs? Were they Slovakian, too? Drew didn’t have a clue and knew General Bogdanovich likely wouldn’t, either.

      “Damn, damn, damn.”

      Gusting wind drowned out his frustration. Heading back to the tunnel, he used a branch to sweep away his tracks. Not that anything would be visible for long with this storm, but his boots were doing a helluva job marking his trail. He would have to assume the snowmobiles would be back, but with any luck the storm might slow them down a little.

      It was certainly deterring him, and his options were narrowing by the second. He couldn’t use his two-way radio to contact the general. He would be lucky if he could transmit over a mile in these conditions, and couldn’t risk an intercepted transmission anywhere close to these snowmobile tracks.

      As near as he could tell, the snowmobiles had headed in the most direct route back to civilization, which left him with the next problem—Mirie wouldn’t last long in this weather. They had dressed for a funeral, not for prolonged exposure to the elements, and she had already been fighting the effects of shock when he’d left her. He needed to get her safe and warm because he didn’t see any alternative but riding out the time it took the general to secure the area and retrieve them. Drew needed an alternate plan B.

      Shoving up his coat sleeve, he glanced at his watch and made out the compass display. Visibility was getting crappier by the second. There was a place where they might hole up safely, but he would have to get Mirie there, and that wouldn’t be easy. The terrain was tough in good weather. Of course the storm would complicate travel for the enemy, too. That much was a plus.

      Drew trudged back, unhappy with his choices. He hadn’t been gone five minutes total, but after crawling back inside the tunnel, he took in the sight of Mirie, safe, like a punch to the gut.

      She still stood with her arms wrapped tightly across her chest, as if trying to fold in on herself to contain warmth. But Drew knew by one glimpse of her lovely face that she struggled. She would hide it. She would strap on her courage like Kevlar, but she was struggling hard right now. He could see it in the raw edges of her expression, the haunted eyes she lifted to his, the shuddering breath that echoed between them.

      He had to get her to safety.

      “Any problems?” he asked.

      She shook her head, sending wisps of hair dragging along the fur collar, but she didn’t reply.

      She couldn’t. Not without revealing her chattering teeth.

      Crossing the distance between them with a few strides, Drew yanked off his own gloves and dug into his pocket.

      “Any word from the general?” he asked.

      She shook her head again. He hadn’t expected a transmission, but Mirie could use a distraction. He found the package of heat packs. They were small, the perfect size to fit inside a glove or a boot. He had hoped to conserve their few supplies, since these heat packs only had a short life span. Six minutes tops. She couldn’t wait.

      Not optimum since she hadn’t been outside yet. She watched him curiously as he worked the packet to create a chemical reaction that activated the heat.

      “Put this inside your glove.” He handed her the first, then went to work on the next. “It’ll help.”

      She did as instructed and gave a small smile. “S-so what’s the plan?”

      “How are you holding up?”

      “Fine.” Her teeth let out an audible chatter and she rolled her eyes. “Freezing to death, b-but that’s because I’m standing around waiting to get shot.”

      Drew eyed her narrowly and made the decision. “If you can handle a bit of a hike, then we should go for it. I’m not much for standing around waiting to get shot, either.”

      That brought a smile to her lips, which hadn’t yet turned blue. A good sign.

      “The village?” she asked.

      “Not yet.”

      She didn’t ask for details, didn’t want them. Mirie understood limitations better than most people. What did details matter right now when she couldn’t do anything to help?

      He knew what her answer would be.

      His own hands were warmer, so after giving her the second packet, he pressed his fingers to her chin. Her eyes widened in surprise, but she followed his urging and tilted her face to the side. Her skin was chilled and smooth beneath his touch, not waxen or stiff. No outward indication that her body temperature was dropping low enough to concern him. Yet.

      Tucking the stray hairs into her hat, he withdrew the audio transmitter. “Thanks for hanging on to this for me.”

      “Glad I didn’t need it.”

      “Me, too.” He let his fingers trail from her face, forced his gaze to her gloved hands. “Any better?”

      “Much. Do you want to use them, too?”

      “You hang on to them. They can be reactivated with boiling water.” Which would require fire and a pot. There was definitely plenty of snow around to melt. Drew would save the rest of the heat packets for the other end of their hike to hold her over while he got a fire going. Hopefully they would be enough.

      “Ready?” he asked.

      “Rather dodge the bullets than wait for them.”

      He liked that about her. Even as a young girl, she’d always been up for a challenge.

      Drew surveyed the area again before he helped her out of the tunnel. Their path was clear and the snow fell steadily, no worse than before.

      This was luck, and he would take all he could get. He shoveled debris against the hole to conceal their exit, trusting the snow to finish up the job. Using his belt, he created a leash of sorts to connect them, and then retrieved the branch he had used to cover his tracks.

      He had to keep a close eye on his compass. This forbidding gorge wasn’t on the radar for people making their way through the mountains since it led to one of the highest peaks in the region. Not even sports enthusiasts appreciated this gorge, which was nearly impossible to descend without rappelling gear, and the narrow width made it hardly worth the effort. But there was shelter there, and a safe place to hide Mirie.

      Drew had found it for exactly that reason. He had been trained by the man who had held the post of close-protection guard for two Ninselan kings. The man had been old, but he had taught Drew that the most important rule for protecting royals, was to know all the good hiding places.

      Oskar would be rolling over in his grave right now because Drew hadn’t known about the altar. Or maybe Oskar was getting a good laugh, since he had probably been the one who had told Geta about the hideaway in the