Page 18 of Thaw of Spring (Knife’s Edge, Alaska #2)

C hristian walked with Amka inside the tavern, her SUV parked out front with the board he’d inserted in the broken window protecting the back seat. Ace sat at the bar, shoveling in what looked like breakfast casserole. Christian gave him a nod. Ace returned it with a slow lift of his chin.

His brother’s eyes looked a little bloodshot, but his shoulders stayed squared, and his gaze tracked sharp. He’d keep an eye on her. That was enough for now.

Christian stepped back out onto the street, heading south toward the sheriff’s office.

Mountain Man’s Garage had already confirmed they’d ordered a replacement for Amka’s busted back window, and it wouldn’t take long to install once it came in.

Just a cracked pane of glass, but it still crawled under his skin. The woman could’ve been shot.

She wanted a house. Kids. Some version of calm.

Maybe that was why she’d agreed to marry Jarod?

Perhaps Christian’s gut feeling there was off because he wanted her.

That much, he could admit to himself. But he wasn’t the settling down kind.

There had to be someone better for such a sweetheart like Amka.

Someone who could give her a decent life.

The thought made his ears itch.

He didn’t want a wife. Never had. No woman deserved that kind of mess. But still, Amka deserved someone solid. Someone who could actually stay.

Problem was, Christian couldn’t think of anyone good enough.

A green AWT rig rounded the corner, tires crunching gravel, and pulled to a stop. Dutch rolled down the window. He must’ve grabbed the rig from where he stored it in the garage of Flossy’s B&B. “Sorry I’m late,” Dutch said, grinning. “Flossy fed me.”

“No problem.” Christian pulled the door open and climbed in. The interior still smelled like coffee and gear oil. “Got your message last night. Guess I’m officially on the job?” Surprise filtered through him at the anticipation pulling at him. He actually wanted this job.

“Yeah, if you don’t mind.” Dutch checked his mirrors.

“Since that one victim who disappeared was wearing an EVE logo on his sweatshirt when your brother found him, I figured we’d head out to EVE today and see if they can ID the other two victims we found.

It’s a long shot, I know. We’ve emailed those crazy scientists, but they’re slow getting back to us. ”

“They’ve always been a mystery to this town,” Christian muttered. “You think we’re getting in?”

“We should. Damian’s head of security now. I called ahead. He said he’d meet us.”

Christian nodded, settling deeper into the seat as Dutch flipped a U-turn and aimed for the river road. “It’s been a couple weeks since I’ve seen him.” He’d been meaning to check up on his too-serious brother for a few days.

Dutch kept one hand on the wheel, his tone casual. “How you holding up after getting shot at?”

“I’m fine.” Christian glanced out the window, tracking the blur of pine trees. “No bad dreams. Nothing. But I’d sure like to know who pulled the trigger.”

“You think Amka was the target?”

Christian exhaled slowly. “Either Amka or Wyland Friday would be my guess as the target. Both attacks seem to circle back to them.”

“She’s gonna need cover,” Dutch said, eyes forward. “You planning to provide that?”

The question hit harder than it should have. Christian didn’t answer right away. Not because he didn’t know, but because he wasn’t ready to say it out loud. He didn’t need to start unloading feelings like a damn teenager.

His phone buzzed in his jacket pocket, and he flinched, still not used to carrying the thing.

Dutch gave him a look. “You all right?”

“Yeah.” Christian pulled the phone out, clenching his jaw. “Just not used to feeling this reachable.” He lifted the phone to his ear. “What?”

“That is not how you answer the phone.” Damian’s voice rolled smoothly through the line.

Christian lifted one eyebrow. “Why are you calling me? We’re on our way out to meet you.”

“I understand that, but it’s about to rain again, and I’d rather not spend time meeting in the parking lot,” Damian replied. “You won’t like it in this facility, and I’d rather not put you through our security and elevator system.”

Christian relaxed. Damian had always seen through all of them.

Every brother. Probably why he’d gone into intelligence.

He’d also gone out of his way to keep Christian comfortable, and that building, with its underground levels, tight halls, and forest of radio towers, would set his stomach on edge.

“I appreciate that,” Christian said, not seeing the need to lie to his brother. “You coming into town?”

Dutch glanced over and pulled the truck to the side of the road.

“No, I can’t right now. I’m in the middle of five different things,” Damian said. “But I did look at the email Dutch sent. I don’t recognize either of the victims—the woman or the man. I ran a full search of our records. They did not work here.”

Christian popped his neck. “Would you tell us if they did?”

“I’ve got no reason to lie,” Damian said, voice smooth as ever. “If I knew who they were, I’d say it. I also got my hands on the autopsy reports from Anchorage.”

Christian frowned, glanced at the screen, then pressed the speaker button. “You’re on with Dutch now. How’d you get ahold of those?”

Dutch turned his head toward the phone, brows drawing tight. “Please don’t say anything sketchy.”

“I’m the security director of EVE,” Damian said flatly. “No condescension intended, just fact. I can access pretty much anything.”

Dutch shook his head. “What are you even doing out there, anyway? That place is weird.”

Damian chuckled. “Why not? It’s close to home. They offered me a job. After years in the service, I could use the paycheck. Plus, I’ve always been curious about the place.”

Christian shifted, a slow awareness pricking at the back of his neck. “You need backup?”

“No,” Damian said. “If I do, I’ll call you. I promise. In fact, I’ll try to get into town for the next chowder day at Sam’s Tavern.”

“Absolutely,” Christian said, more than happy to spend time at Amka’s, even if it was getting harder and harder to believe anything she said about Jarod.

Holding her all night had felt like torture and a blessing rolled into one.

He hadn’t slept that well in years, but waking up with her soft curves pressed against him had nearly wrecked him.

Another night like that? He wouldn’t survive it. Not without touching her.

And that kiss…that one kiss had almost blown his head off.

She sure as hell didn’t kiss like a woman engaged to another man.

In love with another man. Christian would never forget the sweet taste of her.

He wanted another one. Now. He cleared his throat.

“Damian? Since you’re so good with records, think you could run a deep dive on Jarod Teller for me? ”

Dutch nodded. “I think that’s a good idea. Just in case. You’ve got access to sources we don’t.”

“You think he shot at Amka?” Damian asked.

Christian stayed quiet for a beat. “You already know about that? The shooting just happened last night.”

“Please. It’s Knife’s Edge. You think I don’t have people there?”

Christian narrowed his eyes. “Who are your sources?” He thought through options. “Which one of our brothers did you talk to?”

“Neither,” Damian said, clearly amused. “Like I said, I’ve got my sources.”

Christian didn’t like that. Not even a little. “All right,” he said finally. “I guess there’s no reason for us to come out there now. But Damian, if you’re in trouble, you’ll call me.”

A long pause stretched over the line. “If I know I’m in trouble, I’ll call,” Damian said.

Christian didn’t like that answer, either. “Don’t make me infiltrate that place.”

“I actually wouldn’t mind,” Damian replied. “I just installed new security, and it wouldn’t hurt to see if you could get through it.”

That might actually be fun. “Not right now,” Christian said. “I have too much on my plate. But maybe in a couple weeks.”

“We could even pay you. Even though you’re consulting with the AWT, I don’t think there’s a conflict there,” Damian said.

Dutch leaned his head back against the headrest. “How’d you know that? We haven’t told anyone yet.”

“Practically speaking? It’s Knife’s Edge,” Damian drawled.

The line went dead.

Dutch turned to face Christian. “What do you think your brother’s doing at that facility?”

“I don’t know,” Christian said. But a warning ticked through his brain like a countdown. “I think I’m going to have to find out.”

“Not today,” Dutch muttered. “Today, we take these photos around town and see if anyone recognizes the two victims. Then maybe we grab lunch at the Green Plate.”

Christian slipped the phone back into his pocket. “No, let’s go to Sam’s Tavern. I could use a burger.”

Amusement flickered in Dutch’s eyes. “Whatever you say.”

Damn it. He had to get that woman out of his head.

Mud clung to his boots like glue. Rain lashed his face in sharp little needles. Every breath felt like it might be his last. Cold burned down deep, right into his chest.

Rough marks raked his torso, right through his shirt, through skin. Blood and rain mixed into something tacky and hot on his body. He didn’t stop to check. He couldn’t. Not now.

Branches slapped his cheeks. He didn’t dodge them anymore. Just kept running, stumbling forward on raw instinct. No idea how long he'd been out here. No sense of time. Just pain, terror, and the stupid hope he could still make it.

What had he been thinking?

Alaska wasn’t supposed to be like this. He came up here for a guy’s weekend.

Some kind of fun. He’d gotten cheap plane tickets and told his boss back in Phoenix he’d be off-grid for a while.

His wife had begged him not to go, but he’d needed time to himself.

Marriage wasn’t like he thought it’d be, and his wife wasn’t the sweetheart everyone thought. He missed being the fun guy.

No one expected him back soon.

Which meant no one would come looking.

He slipped again, his boots sliding sideways in the muck. Trees loomed on either side of him, dark and wet and whispering. The forest pressed in like it wanted to bury him. Hide the mess. No one would ever find the body.

Another crack of a branch behind him shot his adrenaline even higher.

Closer this time.

He nearly pissed himself.

Grunting, he picked up speed, arms pumping, lungs on fire. A flash of silver caught his attention from up ahead, some sort of a wet glint through the trees. The river. He’d heard the rush of water earlier. He could smell it now. Wet rock and glacial runoff.

If he could make it, maybe the current would carry him far enough away. Maybe the bastard behind him wouldn’t follow him into the water.

Another branch snapped. This time the sound was just behind him.

He veered right, punching through the undergrowth. A root caught his ankle and he slammed forward into the mud. The impact knocked the air from his lungs. He bit his tongue trying not to scream.

He rolled to his side, coughing up dirt and blood. Pain spiked in his wrist. Had he broken it?

Get. Up.

He clawed at the ground, his fingers slipping in wet pine needles. Finally, he pushed himself to his knees. Behind him, the wind whistled.

He couldn’t stop shaking. Whether it was the cold, the adrenaline, or both, he didn’t know.

Voices in his head started up. His dad telling him to get a real job. His boss laughing at the idea of him surviving in the woods. His new wife crying that he had to leave her to find himself. He told her he’d go up north, find some clarity and make a decision.

Well, he found something.

The sound of rushing water grew louder. He was close. Ten yards, maybe less. He forced his legs to move, staggering forward.

Then came the crash.

A wall of force slammed into his back. He flew through the air like a ragdoll, hit hard and slid. His mouth filled with the metallic taste of blood. Something cracked. His shoulder maybe.

He couldn’t move his arm. His whole left side screamed.

Mud soaked into every inch of him. His ribs ached. His breath came in short, ragged gasps.

Behind him, somebody moved. Slowly. Deliberately.

He pressed his palms to the earth, trying to get up.

His right hand found a rock slick with blood.

He couldn’t tell if it was his. He lifted his head.

The river was right there. Ten feet. Five.

He could hear the burble over stone, steady and cold.

If he could just get in and let the water take him?—

Too late.

A weight dropped on his back, crushing him into the mud. All the air fled his lungs. His ribs popped. Not broken yet. But close.

He screamed into the ground. Muffled, pointless.

His legs kicked once. Twice. Then stopped.

The cold didn’t hurt anymore. That scared him most. Because the cold was the only thing that kept him feeling alive. The storm above howled louder. Trees thrashed. Rain started to beat down.

No one heard.

He twisted his head just enough to see the river.

So close. A few more steps.

Please, he thought. But he didn’t know who he was pleading to. God. The river. Himself.

His mouth worked but no words came. His body refused to move. There came a sudden flash of sharp pain, and finally, the darkness took him.