Page 21 of Mountain Mens' Curvy Obsession

“It’s odd that it took her two years to get here.”

“Whatever happened in those two years could be the key to what happens next.”

Nico curses under his breath. “I’m serious about what I said earlier, Booker. About Anya. We need to be careful. We don’t know what we’re walking into, and it’s my duty to keep the two of you alive. It’s always been my duty.”

“Except we’re not kids anymore, Nico. Pretty sure Chance and I saved your ass a couple of times back in the service. Though your concern is duly noted and definitely appreciated,” I reply with a wry smile.

It takes us a few minutes of slipping and struggling, with snow constantly crunching and dipping under our boots, but we manage to establish a walking rhythm that keeps us at a steady pace down the mountain.

The pine trees are heavily clad in snow, some of it already falling off and clumping along the once-visible road leading to the bottom. At this point, however, we’re working off memory and instinct.

“There it is.” Nico points to the tight turn of the road.

It’s nearly covered in about two feet of snow, but the front end sticks out and it appears untouched.

To the left, the mountain continues its descent with a thickening forest and a swirling road riddled with jutting stones and gnarly roots—most of it hidden under the snow. It’s impossible to drive at this point.

Good. It’ll keep any threat at bay for a while longer.

“No one’s been here,” Nico concludes upon reaching Anya’s car.

“No prints in the snow either. And it stopped snowing sometime last night,” I reply, constantly looking around, searching for anything that might be out of place.

Nothing pops out. Even better.

“That USB drive could change everything,” Nico muses as he circles the car a couple of times, giving it a first glance. “If Anya had it, if she was finally bringing it to us…”

“Then she knew what Aleks was up to.”

“There,” my brother snaps and points a finger inside the car. “I knew it.”

I come closer and help him clear the snow from the driver’s seat. It takes a while, but we manage to get in so I, too, can see the bullet hole in the dashboard. “Shit,” I whisper, my eyes widening as I realize what happened here.

“And there’s the second one,” he nods toward the windshield.

The bullet went through, leaving a small hole none of us noticed the night the blizzard landed. We were too busy trying to rescue Anya to see the cracks in the glass. But I see it now, clear under the rising sunlight.

“Two shots fired. Pop, pop,” I mutter, then look at Nico. “Do you think…”

“Anya’s head injury,” he’s quick to read my mind. “It could be that one of the bullets grazed her skull. The force of the bullet could’ve caused the damage, the retrograde amnesia, the shock itself. Yes, it might explain a few things. The shape of the cut is consistent with a bullet graze.”

My blood runs cold as I realize what this means. “Nico, she almost died out here that night. After somehow surviving Dalton, she almost… fucking hell…”

“I need to look under the hood. You search for the USB drive. It might be somewhere in here,” he says and gestures to the front of the car.

I hear the clanking of his tool bag as he takes out a crowbar and pries the hood open. All the snow and ice almost sealed it shut. In the meantime, I rummage through snow and dirt in the front and back seats of the car.

“What are you thinking?” I call out to Nico before I force the glove compartment open.

“I’m trying to figure out how she got wrapped around this tree. Those are snow tires and chains on the wheels, and the road was relatively clear when she first got up here. Given what we know about the fired shots, I wouldn’t exclude sabotage either.”

“For her to lose control like this, she must’ve been driving at a high speed.”

The glove compartment reveals a few random things: A map of the area, ChapStick, wet tissues and… a gun. A Colt revolver, otherwise known as a widow-maker. A pretty big gun for a little lady like Anya. “Hey.” I show it to Nico. “She was packing this. And it’s loaded.”

“Has it been fired?” he asks, coming over to the driver’s side.

I flip the cylinder open and count the bullets. “None missing.”

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