02 Avalanche Pass (6 page)

“Enough about me,” he said. “Tell me about you.”

She pursed her lips, wondering where to start. “Grew up in Wyoming. Not on a ranch or anything fancy like that. Just in a small town. As I got older, it all seemed pretty dull. The Marine Corps looked like a good way out of it all so I joined up and worked my way into the Corps softball team. Did a hitch in Iraq, with the MPs, then got out of the Corps, planning to get married to my old teenage sweetheart.”

“And did you?” he asked. His gaze dropped to her left hand, seeing no ring there. She shook her head.

“Seems he’d linked up with my best friend while I was away in the Marines. So I drifted a while, then got the job here in Security. I like skiing. I like my boss. And the hotel chain seems happy to move me around the network if I want to go. They’ve got hotels in the Caribbean as well as the northwest. Seems like a good deal.”

He nodded agreement and they discussed the relative merits of skiing and scuba diving and the advantages of working in the tourism industry. She was a bright and likeable companion, easy to talk to and, as he had already noted, very attractive. He found it easy to relax in her company and he was a little saddened when the meal was over. They lingered over their coffees as long as they could but by then the restaurant staff were making it obvious that they were keen to close up for the night. Subtle hints, like clearing the surrounding tables, leaving the bill on their table before they asked for it.

Finally, she took the hint. “I think we’d better go,” she said. In spite of his protests, she took the bill and signed it. Then she waited while he drew her chair back for her to stand.

“Nice to have a man do that for me for a change,” she said.

She walked back to his room with him. As he searched in his pockets for his keycard, she produced her own and swiped it in the lock.

“Allow me,” she said, as the lock buzzed quietly and the green light showed. Jesse opened the door, looking at her keycard.

“That’s a handy thing to have,” he said. She grinned at him.

“Opens any room in the hotel. Sometimes there are perks to being in Security.”

There was a long, awkward pause as they both wondered if he were going to invite her in. He thought about it, but he didn’t trust himself. They’d shared a bottle of wine and two cognacs after the meal and he wasn’t sure he could keep his hands off her. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to.

And he wasn’t sure if she wanted him to either.

The question was never asked or answered. She moved against him, her arms going up around his neck and pulling his face gently down to hers. She kissed him and he felt her tongue working against his lips. He opened them and let her explore the inside of his mouth.

Finally, they separated. He felt a little light-headed.

“Good night, Jesse,” she said and he nodded several times.

“Yeah. Good night. It was… nice. More than nice. Thanks for listening to me.”

She shrugged. “Listening is easy. Particularly with a nice guy like you.”

“Yeah. Well, good night, Tina.”

“Good night, Jesse.”

She turned away and he stepped into his room, closing the door behind him and moving thoughtfully to the window. He could still feel the softness of her lips on his, the quick, darting urgency of her tongue.

“Jesse,” he asked himself, a few moments later, “why the hell didn’t you ask her in?”

“I was wondering the same thing myself,” she said from behind him. He spun around. She was leaning against the door, the security keycard in her hand. The V-necked top was unbuttoned and she dropped it to the floor, revealing the white lace of her bra and the rounded tops of her breasts. A push-up bra he noticed, but as she shrugged out of it, he could see that the breasts didn’t need too much help in the push-up department. He felt himself hardening as she unzipped the skirt and let it slide to the floor after her top. She stood before him, wearing only a lacy pair of bikini panties. He was glad she didn’t wear a thong. Thongs did nothing for him. The sight of her body definitely did plenty for him.

“Tina,” he began, but she moved toward him and put a finger on his lips to stop him.

“Jesse,” she said, “I like you. And I think you like me. Now, I don’t plan on following you back to Steamboat, and I guess you’re not planning to come back to Utah looking for me, right?”

He grinned at her succinct appraisal of the situation and nodded.

“I guess that’s pretty much right.”

“Now,” she continued, taking his hand and placing it on her breast. He felt the nipple stir and harden and her breath came a little faster. Her other hand was working at the buckle of his belt, then at his jeans. “I’ve got to tell you that the majority of men I meet these days are either gay or married. I’m guessing you’re not gay,” she said and her hand stroked the hardness inside his jeans. “So are you married?”

“No,” he said immediately. Then, feeling he should, he added, “There is someone in Steamboat who—”

But again, her finger went to his lips, silencing him.

“I don’t need to know that. You answered the important question. You’re not married. Far as I’m concerned she’s crazy to let you run loose. But I figure that’s my good luck.”

She’d worked his jeans down now and was unbuttoning his shirt. He helped her, then hooked a thumb inside the waistband of her panties, sliding them down over her smooth thighs. He placed both hands on her rounded, smooth buttocks and drew her against him, feeling his erection searching for her. His shirt was gone and her hand was on him, teasing him gently, urging and guiding him.

He picked her up then, hands still cupping her buttocks and her legs wrapped around him as he took the two short steps to the bed. They half fell onto it and his mouth found her breast, rolling the hard nipple around his tongue. Just before he entered her, she chuckled, close to his ear.

“Damn glad I had that keycard.”

W
hen he awoke, a little before dawn, she had gone. The place beside him in the bed still retained a little of her warmth so he knew she had left only recently. He smiled at the memory of the night. He felt a slight twinge of guilt, then pushed it aside. He didn’t love her. He knew that. And she didn’t love him. It wasn’t about love or a lasting commitment. But he liked her. And he liked her too much to go feeling guilty about what they had done. Somehow, that would cheapen it, he felt. And that would be unfair to her.

He sat up on the bed, swinging his legs over the side to the floor. There was a note on the side table, torn from one of the pads left in the room. She’d drawn a rough version of the Marine Corps anchor and globe badge. Under it, she’d written:

“
Semper fi.
Tina.”

He smiled to himself. That was one way of putting it, he thought.

T
he leading minivan in the three-vehicle caravan dropped back to low gear for the final climb into Snow Eagles Canyon. Kormann, seated beside the driver, checked his watch.

Three-fifteen in the afternoon. Maybe a few minutes ahead of schedule. He hunkered down to check the other two minivans in the outside mirror, considered slowing down for a few minutes, then, even as the thought entered his mind, abandoned it.

Ahead of him, moving down the winding road that led from the higher reaches, he’d caught sight of another group of vehicles. A few minutes later they passed, their occupants glancing incuriously at the three minivans grinding their way uphill. Kormann nodded to himself. Perfect. There had been no reason why the resort should change its normal pattern of operations this weekend. But there was always the possibility that they might. An accident, a blackout, anything could have delayed the departure of the contract cleaning staff.

Even, he thought, with an almost imperceptible twist of his lips, an avalanche.

His driver had slowed fractionally as they’d inched their way past the oncoming traffic on the narrow mountain road. Now the exhaust note picked up again and the eight-seater moved forward a little faster. He craned his neck to look up at the snow-laden mountains towering above them on either side of the road. He nodded in silent satisfaction as he saw the extent of the snow. Plenty there. Plenty of fine powder snow for skiing.

Or for other purposes.

And late in the season as it was, the snow was becoming more
and more unstable every day as the warmer weather raised the water content and the fine powder settled upon itself. Just the way he wanted it.

In the main, Kormann was an unremarkable looking man. Around thirty-five or -six, he stood five feet eleven and had a slim build. His features were regular, average, you might say. Neither excessively handsome nor excessively unpleasant. The mouth and nose were normally sized and shaped—plastic surgery had seen to that some years back. In Kormann’s line of business, it didn’t pay to have features that were too easily remembered or described. His hair was medium length, parted on the side and black, with a hint of gray beginning at the temples.

The one feature that did stand out was his eyes. They were a brilliant blue and plastic surgery could do nothing to disguise them. Tinted contact lenses might have, but much to Kormann’s annoyance, he was unable to wear contacts. His eyes were particularly sensitive and anything more than ten minutes with contacts in would see them red and streaming. So his eyes remained the single, memorable feature of the man. At least in snow country such as this he could conceal them behind dark glasses.

The bus finally crested the rise and the huge gray bulk of the Canyon Lodge loomed before them. Kormann gestured quickly to the entrance of the underground drive-in and his driver swung the Dodge into the tunnel. A quick glance behind confirmed that the other two buses had followed suit. A moment later, he heard their engines echoing in the confined space of the tunnel. There was room for the three buses by the automatic doors leading to the hotel interior. He pointed: “There.” The driver nodded and pulled past the spot, reversing neatly back into it. Kormann had the door open and swung down, breathing the strange mixture of exhaust fumes and crisp mountain air that pervaded the tunnel. As he walked quickly to the doors, the other buses parked in their turn. Doors slid open and men began climbing down, stretching their legs after the seventy-minute drive up from Salt Lake City.

Three sets of double rear doors slammed open and the drivers and their passengers began unloading bags.

Kormann hurried through into the hotel proper. He twitched his uniform blazer straight and took the escalator to the reception level, one floor up. As he’d expected, the lobby was deserted, with only one staff member—a girl in her early twenties—manning the reception desk. This was something else he’d relied upon. With the previous week’s guests gone, and the new ones not due to arrive until the following morning, Canyon Lodge usually operated on a skeleton staff on Saturday evening.

The young girl looked up, a little surprised, as Kormann appeared in the lobby. Then, recognizing the familiar uniform of the Canyon Transportation Service, she smiled at him. Kormann smiled in return.

“Hi. Roger Kormann, Canyon Transport,” he said by way of introduction. “Everything okay here?”

The girl allowed herself a slight frown. “Yeah. Sure. Any reason why it shouldn’t be?”

“No, none at all,” Kormann told her, then, gesturing toward the escalators, “I’ve got the group downstairs unloading, so I’ll just bring ’em up for registration, okay?”

He started to turn away but she stopped him. “Group? What group?” There was a worried tone in her voice. This was something she hadn’t been told about. It had the uncomfortable feeling of a foul-up and, in her experience, foul-ups in the bookings had a habit of being blamed on junior desk staff. Like her.

Kormann stopped and was walking back toward the desk. He spoke deliberately, as if not wishing to confuse things further. As if making everything perfectly clear and understood.

“The special tour group. We got permission to bring ’em in a day early because of the heating problem.”

“Heating problem?” she repeated, her eyes wandering involuntarily to one of the duct grills set in the ceiling. She hadn’t heard of any problem with the thermostat. She hadn’t noticed any change in the temperature in the lobby, either. There seemed to be nothing wrong with the heating system as far as she could tell.

“Yeah. Look—,” he paused, his eyes searching for her name tag.

“Jenny,” she supplied nervously, “Jenny Callister.”

“Fine,” he said, comfortable now that they were on first name terms. “Now look, Jenny, Ray Archer rang earlier to let you people know. We had this group booked into the Meriton Hotel in Salt Lake City but their heating system had some kind of a meltdown. They’ve got real problems down there with three-quarters of their rooms having no heat of any kind, so Ray organized for this group to check in here tonight. Weren’t you told?”

His easy manner suggested that he knew it wasn’t her fault. It was simply a breakdown in communications within the hotel. Jenny wasn’t so sure. She shook her head.

“It’s the first I’ve heard of it,” she said defensively. Her hand hovered over the phone on her desk. “Maybe I’d better call Ray myself.”

Kormann shrugged. “Sure. Go ahead.” He shook a cigarette from a pack and lit it, unconcernedly, while she hit the buttons on the phone. Ray Archer was the Day Manager of the transport company. If the call went through to him, it would be the first he’d heard of this arrangement too.

Jenny Callister looked at the phone receiver in exasperation.

“The line’s dead,” she said. He raised an eyebrow in polite surprise. It wasn’t unheard of for the phone line to go down in Snow Eagles Canyon. Usually it was a case of a small, localized avalanche bringing down one of the power poles that carried the line.

“Yeah?” he said. “Well, I guess it won’t be down for long.”

In fact, it would be down for another forty-five minutes. Then the linesmen who had cut the line a few miles from the hotel would reconnect a bypass line some eight miles down the road before driving back to Salt Lake City and a payment of ten thousand dollars in their bank accounts. He reached into his jacket pocket and produced a slim Nokia cell phone, offering it to her.