Hot Ice

off.” Without hesitating, Doug jumped, dragging her with him. He wrapped himself around her, tucking as they hit the ground so that they rolled together in a tangled heap. By the time they’d stopped, the train was yards away and picking up speed.
    “Goddamn it!” Whitney exploded from on top of him. “We could’ve broken our necks.”
    “Yeah.” Winded, he lay there. His hands had worked up under her skirt to her thighs, but he barely noticed. “But we didn’t.”
    Unappeased, she glowered down at him. “Well, aren’t we lucky. Now what do we do?” she demanded, blowing loose hair out of her eyes. “We’re out in the middle of nowhere, miles from where we’re supposed to be and with no transportation to get there.”
    “You’ve got your feet,” Doug tossed back at her.
    “So do they,” she said between her teeth. “And they’ll be off at the next stop and doubling back for us. They’ve got guns and we’ve got mangoes and a folding tent.”
    “So the sooner we stop arguing and get going the better.” Unceremoniously, he pushed her from him and stood up. “I never told you it’d be a picnic.”
    “You never mentioned tossing me off a moving train either.”
    “Just get your ass in gear, sweetheart.”
    Rubbing a bruised hip, she rose until she stood toe to toe with him. “You’re crude, arrogant, and very dislikable.”
    “Oh, excuse me.” He swept her a mock bow. “Would you mind stepping this way so we can avoid getting a bullet in the brain, duchess?”
    She stormed away and dragged up the backpack that had been knocked out of her hands on impact. “Which way?”
    Doug slipped his own pack over his shoulders. “North.”

CHAPTER
5
    Whitney had always been fond of mountains. She could look back with pleasure on a two-week skiing vacation in the Swiss Alps. In the mornings, she’d ridden to the top of the slopes, admiring the view from a tram. The swishing rush of the ride down had always delighted her. A great deal could be said about a cozy après-ski with hot buttered rum and a crackling fire.
    Once she’d enjoyed a lazy weekend in a villa in Greece, high on a rocky slope overlooking the Aegean. She’d appreciated the height, the view, and the quality of nature and antiquity—from the comfort of a terra-cotta balcony.
    However, Whitney had never been big on mountain climbing—sweaty, leg-cramping mountain climbing. Nature wasn’t all it was cracked up to be when it worked its way under the tender balls of your feet and dug in.
    North, he’d said. Grimly she kept pace with him, up tough, rocky slopes and down again. She’d continue to keep pace with Lord, she promised herself as sweat dribbled down her back. He had the envelope. But while she’d hike with him, sweat with him, pant with him, there was absolutely no reason she had to speak to him.
    No one, absolutely no one, told her to get her ass in gear and got away with it.
    It might take days, even weeks, but she’d get him for it. There was one basic business rule she’d learned from her father. Revenge, chilled a bit, was much more palatable.
    North. Doug looked around at the rugged, steep hills that surrounded them. The terrain was a monotony of high grass that fanned in the breeze and rough red scars where erosion had won. And rock, endless, unforgiving rock. Farther up were a few sparse, spindly trees, but he wasn’t looking for shade. From his vantage point there was nothing else, no huts, no houses, no fields. No people. For now, it was exactly what he wanted.
    The night before while Whitney had slept, he’d studied the map of Madagascar he’d ripped from the stolen library book. He couldn’t stand to mar a book of any kind, because books had given his imagination an outlet as a child, and kept him company through lonely nights as a man. But it had been necessary in this case. The ragged piece of paper fit nicely in his pocket while the book stayed in his pack. It was only there for backup. In his mind’s eye, Doug separated the terrain into the three parallel belts he’d studied. The western lowlands didn’t matter. As he strode up a rocky, rough path he hoped they’d detoured as far west as they’d have to. They’d stick to the highlands, avoid the riverbanks and open areas as long as they could. Dimitri was closer than he’d anticipated. Doug didn’t want to guess wrong again.
    The heat was already oppressive, but their water supply should last until morning. He’d worry about