Page 6 of Mountain Summons

If she lived through this, her father was going to kill her.

She tilted her head back against the wet stone, forcing herself to think.

Okay. Priorities.

She needed shelter. If she stayed here, exposed, she’d be in trouble fast. Her gaze was caught by a large rock overhang. Not large enough to be called a cave, but large enough to crawl under—maybe. But she’d have to get there first. And walking the short distance separating her from the overhang was beyond her at the moment.

It’s not beyond you. If you can’t walk, you can crawl. Or drag yourself there. But you’ve got to get out of the rain.

That sounded a lot like her father’s voice, though she knew it was coming from inside her mind. She wondered if she was going delirious.

A gust of wind howled through the trees, chilling her to her bones.

She couldn’t stay here. She rolled herself onto her front, her frozen hands digging into the mud for purchase. Even that slight movement sent jolts of pain through her ankle.

Gritting her teeth, she pulled herself forward. Every movement sent new waves of agony through her leg, but the cold and the rain drumming against her skin helped to center her.

She dragged herself forward in small bursts of power.

One inch at a time.

She had to get out of the rain.

And then?

She’d cross that bridge when she got to it.

5

Tristan

The large clock on the wall struck seven. Tristan pulled out a new report and started typing.

This wasn’t urgent work. He could have finished it tomorrow morning. But he didn’t want to go home to his empty apartment. He was sorely tempted to go back to Bar d’Up. Maybe he’d run into Lena there. Maybe she’d explain what had happened yesterday.

No.

Leave it.

She made it clear she wants nothing to do with you.

He recalled their brief exchange from the night before. He’d given her the perfect opening, asking if she was okay, and she’d replied with a terse apology. Nothing else.

He wished he knew more about her. Hell, he didn’t even know her last name, or where she lived, or … anything else about her, other than the fact that she’d grown up in Chamonix,and that her father still lived here. He should have asked more questions. Hell, Chamonix was a small town. Even though she was younger than him, they might know a lot of the same people.

But she’d been clear in her last message, and if she didn’t want to see him, he wasn’t about to start stalking her through town.

So he distracted himself with paperwork—by far his least favorite part of the job—and watched the minutes crawl slowly by.

Suddenly, Beau stormed into the office. “Tristan,” he said tersely. “I’m glad you’re here. Grab your things.”

Tristan stood up quickly. “What’s going on?”

“A missing young woman in the Col des Montets area.”

“A tourist?”

“A local. A professional photographer.”

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