On Thin Ice Read Online Free PDF Page B

fucking one,” she said. “I’m a teacher.”
    “Christ,” he muttered.
    “And a social worker,” she added.
    That one silenced him. “Lady,” he said finally, “you’re an idiot.” And he turned and continued back down the narrow trail.
    “At least I’m not a fucking idiot,” she said smartly.
    Not yet , he thought.
    He half expected her to sound like a herd of cows making her way through the brush, but she was surprisingly quiet, following his lead. She picked up on the routine quickly without him wasting a word – letting branches fall back softly, moving lightly through the thick vegetation. There was no sound from back in the camp – Carlos and Izzy hadn’t built up enough courage to come for her, and by the time they did, he and the woman would be long gone. In fact, they would have discovered he’d gone when they came after her – he hadn’t lost anything by taking her along. She wasn’t even slowing him down. Much.
    The ground was slippery beneath their feet. He was wearing the remnants of the boots he’d been captured in, bound together with strips of cloth as the sole had eventually parted from the rest of the boot. He’d been marched from place to place, covered hundreds of countless miles in such lousy conditions that his boots had given up the ghost long ago. He usually made do with the sandals they’d given him, but for a trek like this he needed all the covering he could find.
    He halted abruptly, and this time she did slam into him, but at least it was his back absorbing the blow of her soft body. He could pretend to ignore it. “What have you got on your feet?” he growled.
    “Shoes.”
    He looked down, his eyes accustomed to the inky black. Light-weight sneakers, already soaking wet from the damp undergrowth. “Christ, woman,” he muttered.
    “I didn’t exactly get a chance to choose my wardrobe when they kidnapped me,” she said.
    Damned if he didn’t like her. He was doing his best to intimidate her into total compliance, and she was undaunted. As she had been in the hands of her captors. Of course she’d had Redbeard looking out for her, and she clearly hadn’t understood Carlos’ and Izzy’s plans for her, or she might have been a little less cheeky. But some part of him would have regretted that.
    He moved forward with a grunt. The less he talked to her, interacted with her, the better. First things first. Hans Froelich and the kid would be waiting up ahead by the makeshift bridge if they’d gotten away. Once he caught up with them he could concentrate on how to get this motley assortment of people down through a deathly tangle of undergrowth, rocky outcroppings, and the pursuit of drug-fueled sociopaths. Piece of cake.
    He heard her mutter something beneath her breath. You son of a bitch , she said, thinking he couldn’t hear. He could hear everything. She had no idea just how big a son of a bitch he could be.
    It would be interesting to see if she was still that cocky after a couple of days of scrambling down the mountain and maybe, just maybe, a couple of nights beneath his lust-starved body. She’d go down fighting. But he’d make absolutely sure she went down.
     
     
    Vincent Barringer was a handsome man on the edge of retirement, looking over his covert little world from a secret basement room in Langley, Virginia. He prided himself on being a warm, friendly man, a laid-back boss who nonetheless demanded excellence and invariably got it. He had the commendations and awards to prove it, and he’d been contemplating an early retirement on the comfortable investments he’d shepherded over the years, just as he’d shepherded some of the world’s most dangerous operatives through the deepest cover imaginable. Some had died, some had come through, failures had always been followed by triumphs, and he cherished his reputation, almost blemish-free. He was a good man who’d lived a good and honorable life, free from smoking and drinking, free from carrying on