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Danger is hard to resist in this sexy thriller from Becca Fitzpatrick, the New York Times bestselling author of the Hush, Hush saga.
Britt Pheiffer has trained to backpack the Teton Range, but she isn’t prepared when her ex-boyfriend, who still haunts her every thought, wants to join her. Before Britt can explore her feelings for Calvin, an unexpected blizzard forces her to seek shelter in a remote cabin, accepting the hospitality of its two very handsome occupants—but these men are fugitives, and they take her hostage.
Britt is forced to guide the men off the mountain, and knows she must stay alive long enough for Calvin to find her. The task is made even more complicated when Britt finds chilling evidence of a series of murders that have taken place there…and in uncovering this, she may become the killer’s next target.
But nothing is as it seems, and everyone is keeping secrets, including Mason, one of her kidnappers. His kindness is confusing Britt. Is he an enemy? Or an ally?
“Rife with psychological twists exploring themes of revenge, misogyny, and familial duty” (Publishers Weekly), Black Ice is New York Times bestselling author Becca Fitzpatrick’s riveting romantic thriller set against the treacherous backdrop of the mountains of Wyoming. Falling in love should never be this dangerous…
millimeters. “I thought the highway was southeast of the cabin,” Mason said, frowning slightly. A tremor of fear shot through me, but I pulled on an unflustered face. “It is. But we have to skirt a small lake. We’ll turn east once we’re around it. I thought you didn’t know the area.” “I don’t,” he answered slowly. “But I glanced over a map at the gas station yesterday.” His frown deepened, a look of concentration and recall shadowing his expression. “I could be remembering wrong.” “Well,
thinking I ever cared, especially if this was it, the end of my life. Only, my eyes filled with tears, and this ruined the brazenness of my attack. I tried to turn my head away before he saw, hating the idea of displaying weakness now. I couldn’t decide if I was crying for fear of my life, or because Jude’s words had ripped open a wound. Last night under the tree wasn’t an act. I’d made out with him because I’d wanted to. I’d trusted him. And the betrayal, the truth about who he was, hurt like
of the way. “Do you have any gum?” Korbie asked, and before I could stop her, she opened my glove box and Calvin’s CD collection tumbled out. She picked it up and eyed it quizzically. “Isn’t this my brother’s?” I’d been caught; might as well own it. “I took it from his car this morning at the gas station. He was being a jerk. I was totally justified. Don’t worry, I’ll give it back.” “Are you sure you’re okay with the whole Calvin thing?” Korbie asked, clearly finding it strange that I’d stolen
one of the matches didn’t light soon, I was afraid I’d lose my ability to squeeze the match between the flaps, creating the necessary friction. Already my left hand was too stiff to manipulate. “Damn,” I said wearily. And then I had the idea of striking the match against a rock. I didn’t know why it hadn’t occurred to me sooner, except that I could feel my good judgment fading rapidly, my fingers not the only part of me too numb to work. Thankfully the bridge overhead had kept the rock dry.
help. I’ll wait here for you.” “I’m not leaving you with Calvin,” I said firmly. “Who knows what he’ll do to you. I might not make it back in time.” “I can’t walk. I hurt my ankle trying to free myself. I think I twisted it. Don’t worry about me. Calvin told me he wouldn’t be back for a while.” He said it so convincingly, I was tempted to believe him. But I knew Jude too well. He’d given up on saving himself. His smooth assurance was intended to make certain I got out before Calvin returned.