But, yeah, Sam could understand all right why Fowler had wanted her. Temptation that she was, he desired her himself. Not that he would try to initiate anything. She was his assignment, and that was all. Period.
Still, Charlie Fowler must have cared for her on some level other than a purely carnal one. The report Sam had read on his flight up here indicated Charlie and Eve had flown separately to Dawson and that Fowler had intended them to return in the same manner, which was why Eve wasn’t in that rental car with him. Why had Charlie insisted on that? Because he had wanted to safeguard her in the event of trouble? Sam wondered…
She didn’t like him.
On a purely physical level, Eve thought, Sam McDonough might qualify as every woman’s ideal male fantasy. He certainly had all the right, rugged looks for it. She wouldn’t deny him that.
All right, so in that sense she wasn’t entirely immune to him herself. But his attitude…well, that was another matter. The man was a devil—nasty to the point of harshness.
If he had any sympathy for her loss, he didn’t bother to express it either by word or manner. One thing was clear. He resented her.
Eve didn’t bother to wonder why. She was suffering from too much grief over Charlie’s death to trouble herself with something that didn’t really matter.
Charlie, Charlie, what happened exactly? And why did it have to happen?
She missed him. Missed him terribly. She was alone now. Alone and frightened.
Not quite alone, Eve. There’s the man at your side. But why, oh why, do you have to be so aware of him and this very disturbing effect he has on you?
It was impossible to ignore him as she would have liked. He was too blatantly there. Very much of a forceful presence with his hard body and hot temper.
An FBI agent of all things. They had sent an FBI agent to escort her home. Something connected with Charlie, and she was clear about none of it. Still too traumatized by the whole thing to try to figure it out. Or could it be that she didn’t really want to know?
How had she managed to get herself into this terrible situation anyway? She was just an ordinary girl living an ordinary life. Work, a nice apartment, good friends, occasional dates when both her mood and interest prompted her enough to go out with the men who asked her.
Pleasant company. None of them that held the promise of anything approaching a serious attachment. None of them any more extraordinary than she was. No secrets in her life, no suggestion of intrigue. And no man who assaulted her senses while managing to be hateful about it at the same time. Until now.
The airfield was a simple one—two runways recently plowed for takeoffs and landings and a metal hangar attached to a small building that must serve as an office.
Their pilot emerged from the structure, shaking hands with them when Sam and Eve climbed out of the car. He was a portly, middle-aged man with the look of a Native American. Or at least a mixture of ancestry, Sam thought.
The guy verified that when he introduced himself. “Ken Redfeather,” he said. “Plane’s all gassed and ready for you.”
Sam nodded in the direction of the rental car. “There’ll be someone who’ll return the car to the Dawson airport, won’t there?”
“Yep. All arranged for, just as you specified on the phone. This way, folks.”
Ken Redfeather led them out to the waiting plane, a single engine, high-wing craft. Insisting on carrying her own suitcase this time, Eve followed their pilot. Sam brought up the rear with his own bag.
Why the hell couldn’t he keep his eyes off her? First it was her face. Now it was her backside. Or, anyway, what he could see of it in that coat. Whether the seductive sway of her hips was done consciously or unconsciously, whether it was fair of him or not, he resented her for his arousal. Emotionally messed up as he was, he didn’t need this unexpected complication.
Redfeather took their luggage when they reached the plane and stowed it in a baggage compartment behind the seats. Apparently a conscientious pilot, he invited them to settle themselves inside while he checked the outside of the plane to make sure everything was sound.
Ducking under the wing, Sam folded the front passenger seat back. “You take the backseat,” he indicated to Eve.
“Why?”
“Because there are no windows back there to speak of. You’ll be more secure.”
“And just what do you think I could possibly be in danger from up there? Birds?”
“It’s not birds I’m worried about. I don’t want you being a possible visible target when we land for refueling, which I was told when I made the arrangements that we’d have to do before we set down in Calgary.”
“And after Calgary?”
“We board a commercial jet for Chicago. No more questions. Get in the back.”
“I don’t think so,” she said stubbornly. “It’s bound to be warmer in front near the heater.”
“So, just keep your coat on.”
“I’d still like to ride in front.”
“I’m not giving you that choice,” he informed her sharply. “Just do what I tell you when I tell you, and we’ll both be happy.”
He could tell by the way her eyebrows lifted and the ice-hard glare under them that she was royally pissed off with him. Well, that was her problem.
“Has anyone ever told you that you’re rude to the point of—”
“Meanness? Yeah, plenty of times. So what?”
She muttered something under her breath that he didn’t catch. He could guess what it might be. Something that probably involved the word bastard. Too bad. She had to understand he was responsible for her. That meant, like it or not—and she obviously didn’t anymore than he did—following his instructions.
“I’m beginning to think the only threat to me is you, Special Agent McDonough.”
One of those shapely eyebrows of hers, which Sam was beginning to realize were capable of expressing a whole range of emotions, shot up again with barely restrained anger. Before she could go on arguing with him, he cut her off with an emphatic, “Now get in the back like a good girl, and try not to give me any more grief.”
She must have figured it wasn’t worth the effort to make a further issue of it. Long-strapped, leather purse swinging from her shoulder, she clambered aboard and into the backseat. Sam lowered the front seat and swung himself into it. He shut the door behind him as Ken Redfeather rounded the tail of the plane and approached the pilot’s door.
As cramped as the cabin was, Sam wondered how Redfeather, with that ample belly of his, could possibly fit behind the yoke. As it turned out, once he’d shed his coat, he managed it with relative ease.
“Belt up, folks, and we’ll get my girl here on her way.”
A few minutes later, the plane lifted off the runway and into the clear, blue sky. When they had reached their cruising altitude, Sam looked down over the side.
The terrain spread out below them was an impressive sight. Snowy mountains, frozen lakes, vast forests of white spruce, birch and fir. On the flat, treeless bowl of a valley, Sam thought he could spot what had to be a herd of elk.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Redfeather said, obviously proud of his rugged homeland.
Sam murmured his agreement. Eve, probably unable to catch more than glimpses of what lay below them, had nothing to contribute. Sam