“I’m your stalker.”
“You took my toothbrush?”
“No. Others did.”
“Seriously. U R in Nepal?”
“Yes. Coming to Namche by helicopter.”
“R U kidding?”
“No. Stay with your group. Do not stray alone.”
“Okay. Must catch up. Text me.”
“Meet you on the hike. Goodbye and stay safe, Lyutik Zolotistyy.”
He added Goldilocks in Russian. Before she could respond on how he didn’t know what trail she was on, he closed the conversation. It would be a pleasure to find and follow her pleasurable aroma. Big bear will find you Goldilocks. He smiled. You know nothing about your stalker.
The Sherpa tour guide stood with five hikers, waiting for her to catch up. The trail looped not far from their lodge. An easy flat walk to get used to the elevation, which nonetheless left her winded.
Rachel slugged through the fresh snow in her new boots and caught up. “Sorry.”
“Do not stay behind. No texting. Watch mountains and sky. Big storm coming.”
She gazed at the snow-capped Mount Everest range. The challenging climb that claimed many lives. Relieved, she was only a sightseer and not a climber, she smiled. “No problem.” Normally, she would have been embarrassed to have held them up to text, but she felt giddily happy. Not from the low oxygen mountain air. Lev was alive. And here. She’d give him a big hug. Then punch him in the nose for making her think he was dead.
Okay, maybe she suffered hallucinations from the altitude? Not likely. No way did she have brain edema, not at this slow pace. His texts proved it. In a few days, she’d go on a higher climb. Although, if she was being pursued, who knows what would happen next? Can’t be the Toothbrush Bandit or rather Bandits.
Rachel vaguely paid attention to what the guide said. Her happiness on learning Lev lived conflicted with resentment and anger. Was it even Lev who texted her? If so, he had to be special ops. This entire situation was crazy. Who would come halfway around the globe to find her? Why was she so important that nefarious people were after her?
The trail loop ended, and they headed back to the lodge. The guide recommended they enjoy today’s open market. Rachel remained in the back, behind the last hiker. If Lev was right, returning to her room might put her in grave danger. Perhaps, this had something to do with the people her father worked with. And Maggie’s close call with death.
A few in the group took photographs of the magnificent peaks as the guide talked about the mountains. Rachel took out her small camera. Instead of aiming for the mountains, she turned back to the lodge.
Shit. An older man with a beard as described by Lev, and two men walked into the lodge. Maybe they were just winter trekking. Nonetheless, not risking it. She texted Lev. “Men you described at lodge.”
No response. Great. What was she supposed to do? It was winter and near impossible to find other lodging. Many of the hotels closed during non-season winter months. If they were after her, they’d learn she was on this trail. Alone, she’d stand out. The crowded market was her best bet until Lev texted back.
For once, she wished her paranoia was her imagination, but the coincidence of the description of these men, too damn real. Danger alarms blared in her brain. This crazy business had to do with her father. Whatever he’d been involved with, she was now a victim of it. They’d use her to get to him. The reason they took a sample of DNA. To verify Howard’s paternity. Kidnapping her for leverage about information he guarded. Geez thanks, Daddy.
Rachel scurried behind a house toward the lodge and peeked around the corner to spy on the men.
The men walked out and the bearded one called someone on his mobile. He pointed to the trail she’d just finished and gestured his men to go there. The bearded man lit a cigarette and paced in front of the lodge.
A van pulled up and parked. A man wearing a fur lined coat stepped out. Tall and about thirty-years old, built similar to Lev. He took the older guy’s cigarette and smashed it beneath his boot. So he hates smoking, who doesn’t? Hard enough to breathe up here without the added tax on one’s lungs.
The bearded man bowed his head to the mobster hit man lookalike. Even from a distance, Rachel saw his cruel dark gaze of disdain for the humbled gentleman. He sniffed the air and smiled as if relishing the clean mountain air free of cigarette. However, the man continued to flare his nostrils as if trying to pinpoint a scent. Odd. Primal. Again, reminding her of Lev. The man glanced in her direction.
Shit. Rachel shivered. She wore a hood and dark glasses. He couldn’t know it was her. Or not. He headed her way. A rush of adrenaline pushed her to run. Time to heed Madam Montfort and Lev’s warning. Someone was after her, hit man or abductor for some criminal gang. The reason didn’t matter.
From her vantage, the tall stalker would be easy to spot. Yet, he seemed to have vanished.
Rachel slowed and stared at her mobile screen. No more texts. Lev said he’d meet her on the trail. Maybe he’d been delayed by bad weather. She turned and headed through the meandering lanes to the open market, blending into the throng of shoppers. Despite the winter chill, tourists crowded the market. If the new stalker tried to grab her, she’d make a big scene.
Feeling somewhat safe from the stalkers, she tried to enjoy herself. She turned to look at a couple yaks. She’d been warned not to approach them. These beasts of burden were not open to being petted and known to be ill-tempered. The majority of the yaks remained in their own parking area.
Rachel perused the handicrafts, while keeping an eye for the stalker, who perhaps might be only a tourist. Although, not the usual tourist toting cameras and buying trinkets, but who knew? She decided to try Thukpa, hot soup with noodles. Later, she’d call the lodge and find out if people had asked about her. So far no one followed her. Maybe she should worry about Lev. Madam Montfort claimed he was a wolf man. Lev could be a good-looking psycho. He admitted to stalking her, too. Was that the reason her father had become upset when Lev paid an unexpected visit? Those men could have been following him, not her. His heroic efforts to stop a mad bomber might have been fueled by his insanity.