Chill by Stephanie Rowe

make up a name—“Mike Webber?”
    She frowned. “No, Marcus Fie.”
    Luke felt as if he’d just been sucker punched in the kidney. Jesus. How had he been found? His mind started racing, carefully drilling over every move he’d made in the last eight years. No mistakes. He knew he’d covered his trail impeccably. What the fuck was going on? “I’m sorry. You must be mistaken. My father is Mike Webber. Good luck with whoever you’re trying to find. Have a nice day.” He stood and headed for the door without another word. Had to get outside. Had to clear his head.
    How in the hell had he been found? Who the fuck was this woman, and how in the world had she tracked Adam Fie here? And who else had she led to him?
    He shoved the door open and stepped outside. It was in the twenties now, and the air bit at him. It felt goodto be smacked in the face by the cold. To clear his head. A car roared by on the highway, and his senses jerked into high alert.
    His mind was racing with an intensity it hadn’t been forced into for eight years, as Luke rapidly dissected the scenery. No car out of place, except one white rental at the end of the lot that was probably Isabella’s.
    As far as he could see, it was empty.
    Had she come alone?
    “Hey!” The door slammed open and Isabella followed him outside. “I know you’re Adam Fie—”
    “No,” he snarled. The sound of his former name was like an ice pick being slammed right through his temple. How had she found him? Why? He turned on her, and glared her into silence. “Adam Fie?” he repeated, allowing himself to inject fury into his tone.
    He was humming with tension he hadn’t felt in years. He didn’t need this back in his life again. The brand on his wrist began to burn. “I remember that son of a bitch.”
    Isabella got a skeptical look on her face. “What are you talking about?”
    Luke nodded. “Adam came through here eight years ago. Worked on a couple planes for us. Stole some money and then disappeared. If you find him, I’d love to have a few moments alone with him to get my money back.”
    Isabella’s brows knitted. “Adam wouldn’t steal.”
    “No?” The woman was a fool. That was all Adam Fie had done. Besides knock off anyone who got in his way. And the rest of it…Shit. He wasn’t going there. Another car roared past on the highway—a new pickup, and it didn’t slow as it raced by. Alaska plates. He’d forgotten what it was like to hear every sound, to noticeevery detail of his surroundings. He didn’t like it. “Why do you want Adam?”
    She eyed him. “You look exactly like Marcus, you know.”
    “Marcus?” Luke spat the name. It tasted like poison on his tongue. He caught Isabella’s wrist and pulled her toward him. Shit, her wrist was small. Her whole body was petite. She barely came up to his chin, and he was pretty sure he could span her waist with his hands.
    He had a sudden urge to pull up that cashmere sweater of hers and test his theory.
    Isabella bumped into him, and her breast brushed against his upper arm. Her eyes widened, and she immediately pulled back. “Don’t grab me.” She tried to pull away, but he tightened his grip.
    “Did you come alone?” He had to know. Had to get answers. Find out how bad the crack in his new life was.
    She nodded. “Of course.”
    “Who knows you’re here? Who knows you’re trying to find Adam?”
    She frowned. “No one.” She looked over her shoulder suddenly, and he realized she was checking out how far she was from the front door.
    No one had been afraid of him in eight years. Out here, he was Luke Webber, affable guy, kickass pilot. Not someone people feared. He’d worked hard not to be that man anymore, and it bit deeply to see a woman recoil from him.
    But for right now, he was okay with that. Right now, he needed answers.
    If she were telling the truth and no one knew she was here, that was good. Very good. It meant she was the only chink in his shield. He squeezed her wrist,