Page 1 of Mountain Trial

Chapter 1

Kat

Kat’s skis cut effortlessly through the fresh powder.

Although the Chamonix Mont Blanc Valley resort had officially opened in early December, the snow had been mediocre at best throughout the holidays. Last night’s snowfall, the first of the new year, marked the real start of what was set to be a great ski season.

She wasn’t the only one who’d had the idea of coming up here today. At the top of the cable car, she’d had to step around a crowd of eager skiers and snowboarders who’d stopped to stare at the Glacier d’Argentiere. Unlike them, however, Kat wasn’t here to admire the view.

As a member of the Peloton de Gendarmerie de Haute Montagne, Mont Blanc’s Search & Rescue team, Kat had combed through every run in the resort, and knew exactly where to go to escape the crowds.

She leaned hard into her skis, aiming for the narrow left-hand track that led down to Pylones, her favorite black run. It was a long, steep, exhausting run―Kat and her team had come up here more than once to rescue skiers who’d overestimated their abilities. Today, with all the fresh snow, it was going to be exactly what she needed to forget her worries.

A small voice inside her suggested maybe today wasn’t the best day to ski a black run alone. Normally, Kat would have checked to see who else from the team was off, and maybe made it a group ski session. Today, however, she’d needed to be alone. She was still shaky from the news she’d received and needed time to process.

Jacques is back in town.

In all fairness, she should have expected he’d come back at some point. Jacques Peres was a Chamonix-born-and-bred snowboarder, and even though he’d been living in the United States for the past ten years, every time he won a new medal or award, the town filled with the news of his victories. It was enough to make her want to throw up every time she saw his picture on the local news―though not half as bad as when she’d heard, just weeks earlier, that he’d be back in town for the Victory Games that would take place on January tenth.

Now, all Kat wanted was for the games to be over and for Jacques to leave once again.

Please let him leave quickly.

He can’t stay.

I’ve made my life here.

It was hard to recall the violence Jacques had inflicted on her. She’d been nineteen years old and had worshipped the ground he walked on. By the time she’d finally gotten the courage to speak up, nobody had believed her. That had hurt almost as much as the psychological and physical violence that Jacques had inflicted on her.

She’d been lucky he’d left town, and she’d had a chance to rebuild her life. She’d joined the gendarmerie, had eventually become a rescue pilot, and had made a great life for herself. She now had a career she loved, great friends, almost everything she’d ever wanted―and yet the thought of seeing Jacques again made her feel like the lonely teenager she’d once been.

She shook her head under the bright yellow PGHM-issued helmet she was wearing. Although she was off duty and was wearing a bright red ski suit instead of her dark blue and black PGHM ski uniform, she didn’t own any other helmets, and wouldn’t consider hitting the slopes without one.

The north-facing slope meant it was always chilly up here. The frigid mountain air went straight into her lungs as she inhaled, relaxing her.

She couldn’t help smiling as she caught sight of the first moguls, just as the run became steeper. She was glad she’d had her skis professionally serviced just weeks earlier―she’d be needing those sharp edges now.

She rotated easily between the bumps, keeping her upper body steady and letting her legs act like a suspension system. Instead of stopping at the end of the mogul field, she went straight into the steeper section of the black run, executing several smooth, short turns right down the fall line. Her skis ate into the steep, narrow terrain naturally.

She was still smiling as she caught sight of a slight figure―he looked like a boy―barreling towards her. He looked nowhere near confident enough on skis to be on this run.

Turn. Turn.

The boy missed the turn. Kat pushed hard on her edges to avoid him―just in time to see another skier appear on her other side. The second skier whooped excitedly, seemingly unaware of the danger.

Shit.

They’re going to make a sandwich of me.

She turned hard, angling her skis towards the edge of the piste, narrowly avoiding the second skier, only to see a third, larger figure sitting on the side of the piste, staring intently at something in his hands.

Oh no.

Kat knew she couldn’t avoid him, but she dropped her poles and threw herself onto the snow in an attempt to slow herself down before she hit the man. She felt a sharp jab on her ribs and her hip―suddenly, the fresh powder snow didn’t feel that soft.

As she slid inexorably towards the man, the world went into slow motion. She caught sight of impossibly blue eyes and strong arms that opened wide to meet her onslaught.

She hit his body hard, and even though she pressed herself against the side of the mountain, the slope was too steep and there was no chance to stop their fall.