Chilled (Bone Secrets, #2)(4)

He wasn’t welcome.

He didn’t blame them, but he also didn’t care.

He had a plane to get to.

Alex forced himself to open the door and step into the bitterly cold air. Christ. Fucking weather. No turning back. He ran a restless hand through his hair and pulled up his hood as goose bumps spread across his arms.

One of the red parkas stepped out from the circle as Alex worked his way across the mud and muck. His lungs contracted at the stabbing chill in the wet air. It smelled like snow. That fresh-scrubbed, icy smell that came before the skies let loose with the white stuff. Had to be close to freezing. He couldn’t stop a full-body shudder and shiver and hoped the onlookers hadn’t noticed. Why hadn’t the crash happened in the middle of August? When it was hot enough to wear shorts?

The man in the parka approached, holding out a hand in greeting, but his brown eyes were cautious. The dark man looked to be in his fifties; an air of natural leadership emanated from him.

“Alex Kinton?”

Alex nodded. “You must be Collins. The boss said you’d have a pack and equipment ready for me.”

Collins’s chin jerked at the curt tone, and Alex levelly met his gaze. He didn’t have the time or patience for how-do-you-do chitchat. His stomach abruptly cramped, reminding him he’d skipped breakfast. The gut pain coordinated with his growing headache from ignoring his medication last night and this morning. He’d wanted a clear head to meet the plane so he’d deliberately left the small orange pill bottle on the shelf.

Now he had a clear, pounding head.

Collins nodded slowly, his gaze plainly assessing. As if he’d decided something, his expression suddenly cooled and his lips thinned. “I’ll get you a pack. This is the team that’s going in. Jim’s in charge.” Collins tilted his head at the four remaining men, turned his back, and strode to his Suburban.

Alex let his spine relax a millimeter. Collins had recognized the persona Alex had presented. A soldier reporting for duty. No opinion on the task ahead, a simple acceptance of what was thrown on his plate. Locked, loaded, and ready for action.

He turned toward the others, sucking in a deep breath to fill his lungs. Wondering which red parka was Jim, Alex solidly met each man’s stare. Whoops. The last person was a woman. Her mouth twitched and her dark eyes danced in amusement and confidence at his obvious surprise.

Alex froze. His vision tunneled on her face, and her eyes widened a fraction. Their eye contact splintered his carefully constructed wall of indifference. For a split second Alex didn’t feel the cold, his concern about the missing plane evaporated, and his mind became refreshingly clear. She bit her lip and glanced away, breaking the connection.

Alex’s brain slammed back to the task at hand and the muddy woods.

With her height, hood, and bulky parka, she’d blended in neatly with the men. A big gray-and-white dog sat at her feet, studying him with a keen blue gaze, its tail happily wagging. Alex’s gaze went back to the other men, and he blinked at the hostility that’d crept into their faces as he’d stared at the woman. He stiffened.

At least the dog didn’t seem to mind his presence.

“Alex Kinton.” He gave a stiff nod and fought the urge to salute.

They rattled off their names, and Alex’s mind snagged on the woman’s unusual one. Brynn. Different. Her warm brown eyes were now curious, and her mouth spread in a tenuous smile as she bent down to rub the dog. Blonde hair peeked from under her hood. Clear features and a long elegant neck reminded him of a ballet dancer. Could she keep up? Collins had argued long and hard against Alex’s presence on the hasty team. Claimed it was a physical and mental effort most people couldn’t do.

Jim turned out to be the shortest guy. His experienced gaze probed and traveled over Alex from his brand-spanking-new hiking boots to the hood of his Columbia Sportswear Titanium jacket. Alex had ripped off the coat’s tag just before stepping out of his SUV.

His new boss spoke, “What you got on under your rain pants?”

Alex’s mouth tightened at the direct question. He had to answer to this guy?

“Clothes.”

With one step, Jim was in his face, rain dripping off his nose. “We’re going out into a bone-chilling, goddamned wet environment. If you get pissed and tired because you’re cold and damp because you wore the wrong f*cking clothes, I ain’t gonna slow my team to babysit you.” Jim’s blue eyes sparked dangerously.

Point taken.

“Under Armour, then fatigues. Two pairs of socks. No cotton. My boots are waterproof, and my damned gloves cost more than this platinum jacket.” Alex held up a navy gloved hand, still amazed at the ridiculous price. “Either I’m perfectly dressed for shitty mountain weather or the clerk at the outdoor store saw me coming from a mile away and pocketed a commission big enough to buy a plasma TV.” He spoke directly to Jim, gaze locked on his leader, forcing himself to accord the man respect. He’d made a mistake. This wasn’t someone he wanted as an enemy.

“Good.” Jim backed up two steps and snorted, still assessing him, still obviously ticked at having a stranger in their midst.

“Titanium,” Brynn stated.

Alex turned to her. “Huh?”

“Your jacket’s line is called Titanium, not platinum.” Her lips curved up on one side and her eyes smiled.

“For as much as it cost it should be made of platinum. I spent more money on clothing this morning than most people make in a month.” Those lively dark eyes sparkled at his reply. She wasn’t beautiful. Her mouth was wide and her chin a little too stubborn. She was more interesting looking, but probably caught her share of double takes from men. Men like him.