a hand up the inside of Alex’s thigh. “That thing on your face is Satan’s mark,” she said, whispering with her lips so close to his ear that hot, moist breath laved it with each syllable. “It’s there so women will know better than to be alone with you.”
“You’ve got it right. I’m not a nice man.”
“Trouble is, I’ve got this thing for evil, cruel guys. Thinking about it, imagining what you’ll do to me, melts my core.”
She wasn’t melting his core exactly, but her exploring fingers were thawing it. The other couple’s noisy return, however, prompted her to withdraw the hand. She asked Alex to dance, and on the floor she alluded again to his scarred face, to the equally scarred personality she was sure it echoed. While they moved to slow music, she rubbed against him and begged him to whisper the awful things he would do to her.
He left her standing on the dance floor and returned to their booth. “Dakota and I aren’t clicking. I’m going back to the lodge.”
Faust shrugged. “The Koenigs are flying up tomorrow for some skiing. I’ll introduce you. We’ll be heading for Lima in five days.”
* * *
Alex had downed too much beer. Should have known better, he thought as he trudged back to the lodge. In bed, he closed his eyes and forced himself to lie still, but sleep wouldn’t come anywhere near him. Too much information churning through his head. Too many emotions washing over him.
During their time campaigning together against remnants of Peru’s Shining Path rebels, Faust had taken Alex under his wing. Despite their difference in rank, the captain had treated him like a younger brother. Alex had grown to admire and respect his commander, even though Faust’s determination to dominate the battlefield and decimate the enemy sometimes drove him to mistreat civilians or go overboard in his interrogation of prisoners. But their acquaintance had played out in a military environment, where personal idiosyncrasies were muted. During leave time—rest and recreation, in Army parlance—they had gone separate ways; military protocol dictated that officers and enlisted men avoid off-duty fraternization. Maybe the surrogate big brother he’d thought he knew had never actually existed.
Shrugging off a sense of loss, he decided to make an exit. Spurning the job offer would leave him with no income, but that was okay. His Silver Hill salary had been automatically deposited in a Denver bank. It would sustain him until he got his life in order.
Forget sleep, he decided. It was time for action. After showering, dressing, and stuffing clothing into his backpack, he penned a note thanking Faust for the Silver Hill job and the offer of a better one in Peru. “I need some down time,” he wrote. “I’m going to hang out, try to get my head straight. I’ll be in touch.” He pulled on his parka and shouldered his gear, left the note for Faust at the lodge’s front desk, and began hiking down Silver Hill’s short main street.
From a cloudless sky, a three-quarter moon cast its glow over the resort. Conditioned by his Special Forces training, Alex had memorized the layout on his first visit. The habit made him go over it again as he walked. Moonlight reflecting off snow-laden trees that bordered the road winding down the mountain gave it the look of a crooked, black snake. Moonbeams also bounced off the silvery metal roofs of two barn-like structures a hundred or so yards removed from the rest of the resort and fifty yards farther down the mountain. Thick cables cast shadows on the smaller barn’s roof. The power lines meant the barn housed generators. Faint outlines of vehicles parked near the other barn signaled its role as the resort’s motor pool and maintenance shop.
Higher up, clinging to the mountainside near the ski lift, Silver Hill’s corporate headquarters kept watch over the whole complex. Against moonlit snow accented by dark
“You’ve got it right. I’m not a nice man.”
“Trouble is, I’ve got this thing for evil, cruel guys. Thinking about it, imagining what you’ll do to me, melts my core.”
She wasn’t melting his core exactly, but her exploring fingers were thawing it. The other couple’s noisy return, however, prompted her to withdraw the hand. She asked Alex to dance, and on the floor she alluded again to his scarred face, to the equally scarred personality she was sure it echoed. While they moved to slow music, she rubbed against him and begged him to whisper the awful things he would do to her.
He left her standing on the dance floor and returned to their booth. “Dakota and I aren’t clicking. I’m going back to the lodge.”
Faust shrugged. “The Koenigs are flying up tomorrow for some skiing. I’ll introduce you. We’ll be heading for Lima in five days.”
* * *
Alex had downed too much beer. Should have known better, he thought as he trudged back to the lodge. In bed, he closed his eyes and forced himself to lie still, but sleep wouldn’t come anywhere near him. Too much information churning through his head. Too many emotions washing over him.
During their time campaigning together against remnants of Peru’s Shining Path rebels, Faust had taken Alex under his wing. Despite their difference in rank, the captain had treated him like a younger brother. Alex had grown to admire and respect his commander, even though Faust’s determination to dominate the battlefield and decimate the enemy sometimes drove him to mistreat civilians or go overboard in his interrogation of prisoners. But their acquaintance had played out in a military environment, where personal idiosyncrasies were muted. During leave time—rest and recreation, in Army parlance—they had gone separate ways; military protocol dictated that officers and enlisted men avoid off-duty fraternization. Maybe the surrogate big brother he’d thought he knew had never actually existed.
Shrugging off a sense of loss, he decided to make an exit. Spurning the job offer would leave him with no income, but that was okay. His Silver Hill salary had been automatically deposited in a Denver bank. It would sustain him until he got his life in order.
Forget sleep, he decided. It was time for action. After showering, dressing, and stuffing clothing into his backpack, he penned a note thanking Faust for the Silver Hill job and the offer of a better one in Peru. “I need some down time,” he wrote. “I’m going to hang out, try to get my head straight. I’ll be in touch.” He pulled on his parka and shouldered his gear, left the note for Faust at the lodge’s front desk, and began hiking down Silver Hill’s short main street.
From a cloudless sky, a three-quarter moon cast its glow over the resort. Conditioned by his Special Forces training, Alex had memorized the layout on his first visit. The habit made him go over it again as he walked. Moonlight reflecting off snow-laden trees that bordered the road winding down the mountain gave it the look of a crooked, black snake. Moonbeams also bounced off the silvery metal roofs of two barn-like structures a hundred or so yards removed from the rest of the resort and fifty yards farther down the mountain. Thick cables cast shadows on the smaller barn’s roof. The power lines meant the barn housed generators. Faint outlines of vehicles parked near the other barn signaled its role as the resort’s motor pool and maintenance shop.
Higher up, clinging to the mountainside near the ski lift, Silver Hill’s corporate headquarters kept watch over the whole complex. Against moonlit snow accented by dark
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