Page 24 of Thaw of Spring (Knife’s Edge, Alaska #2)

T he warmth from the fire in Sam’s Tavern finally heated Christian’s feet. He might need new boots. He leaned back in his chair, legs extended, coffee in hand, sleeves rolled to the elbows. The coffee was strong tonight, just like he wanted.

Dutch sat across from him, his posture loose in that deceptive way seasoned lawmen managed when they were thinking too hard.

Christian's gaze drifted past the flames, to the bar where Amka stood behind the counter with Daisy, both laughing about something. Her hair was loose again, shiny and silky down her back. She looked lighter tonight, happy, even. The tension that had clung to her last night had disappeared.

Ace had mentioned that they’d formed a business together before he left for the night. The woman did like numbers, so perhaps that’s why she seemed happy?

She wiped her hands on a towel and leaned into Daisy’s side as they bent over the schedule, lips moving fast, both chuckling.

Christian’s throat went tight. He didn’t want to need that smile. Didn’t want such beauty pulling something loose in his chest. But her joy and kindness did. And he felt that need like pressure against his ribs.

She hadn't looked at him once since he'd come in.

Fine. She didn’t need to.

The front door creaked open.

Cold air swept across the floor, and two uniformed troopers stepped in, hats off, coats wet from the still-misting rain. One male in his mid-sixties and a younger female with dark red hair. True red hair. They spotted Dutch and made their way across the tavern.

“Evening,” Dutch said, dragging a chair out with one boot. “Coffee’s hot.”

They both sat. “Evening, boys,” the female said.

Dutch nodded toward Christian. “This is Christian Osprey.”

“Jeb Pontevo.” The older guy extended a hand. His grip was firm. “This is Paige Johnson.”

The woman held out a hand and Christian shook it. “Nice to meet you.”

Dutch grinned. “Christian is working with me as a consultant but will be an AWT by the end of the year. He tracked the killer of the victim we found earlier. Can’t believe we finally can identify one of these victims who’d had their eyes scratched out. Poor bastards.”

Christian gave a short nod. “The trail led to a dead end.” He and Dutch had interviewed every person either living or renting out at that dismal place, and nobody had hit. His best guess was that the killer had stashed a vehicle there and had taken off, but the trail had definitely ended there.

“We’re here for the explosion and arson case.” Jeb leaned forward. “I went over the wreckage next door this afternoon. Rain didn’t do us any favors, but there’s no doubt. Even if the explosion happened by accident, which is nonsense, somebody wanted a fire to spread.”

Christian’s mouth twitched. “You don’t say.”

Jeb nodded, apparently missing sarcasm. “I appreciate the locals sending the fragments from the device to the lab. In looking at the site, I found four pour patterns, and the accelerant soaked into the joists and floorboards. They wanted the place gone fast and didn’t care who saw the flames.”

Dutch exhaled, long and quiet. “We figured as much, and I don’t like that Amka was in there. Did you get a chance to canvas?”

Paige groaned. “We knocked on every door in the town and have the radio station sending out information tomorrow to talk to us if anybody knows anything. Although, I figure they would’ve already found you.”

“True,” Dutch said. “There were enough of those influencers in town with phones recording that I keep hoping someone saw something, but so far, all we have is a hero video featuring Christian.”

Paige grinned, her gaze wandering Christian’s face. “Yeah, I saw that.”

Christian lifted a shoulder. “I heard about it from Dutch earlier, and I don’t want to see it.” At least Nixi hadn’t included his damn name. That’s all he needed. “Have you cleared the scene?” The rain and storms had obliterated any evidence, and they all knew it was arson.

Paige tapped her nails on the table. “Yeah. We secured samples of a few remaining wood pieces for the lab so we can identify the accelerant, but other than that, we didn’t find anything useful.”

Daisy popped up. “Hi, troopers. What can I get you?”

“Two coffees, no cream or sugar,” Paige said a little forcefully.

Jeb frowned. “Come on, Paige. One sugar won’t hurt.”

Paige's chin stiffened. “I promised Louanne that you wouldn’t have any more sugar in your coffee. Your last numbers came up pre-diabetic, you know.”

Jeb rolled his eyes. “You’re not afraid of my wife, are you?”

“Hell, yes.” Paige leaned back in her chair. “That woman is terrifying.”

Jeb sighed. “All right. A coffee with nothing good in it.”

Apparently Jeb was afraid of his wife as well. “How long have you been married?” Christian asked, shocking the shit out of himself. He didn’t ask personal questions. Why was he asking about marriage?

“Almost forty years,” Jeb said as Daisy walked away. “My wife’s a sweetheart, she is. We raised five kids with me on the road a lot, and I’m lucky.” He lifted one shoulder beneath his uniform. “Except for the sugar part. I like sugar.”

“Stop being a baby.” Paige looked at Dutch. “About the body. Did you do the notification?”

Dutch rubbed his face. “Yeah. Talked to the wife. She wants to come up here since we won't be able to transport her husband's body to Anchorage for a couple of days. It’s taking time to arrange a helicopter. She plans to accompany him when the transport happens. So sad. Though it’s a good thing we installed that morgue cooler in the hospital basement a few years back.”

Amka’s laugh floated across the bar again—soft and warm and cutting right through Christian.

Then she disappeared back into the kitchen.

He stared at the mug in his hand, grip tightening slightly.

The idea that somebody wanted to cut off that sound, to hurt her, spiraled a fire inside him he didn’t recognize.

The door opened and Jarod Teller walked in, wearing dark jeans, a button-down shirt, and a newish-looking black leather jacket.

He strolled behind the counter and poured himself a beer, his gaze moving to the dark-haired gal reading through ledgers at the end of the counter.

The insurance adjuster. Christian figured she was probably pretty, but not Amka pretty.

Man, he had to get a grip on himself.

Amka walked out of the kitchen with plates in her hand, caught sight of Jarod, and lost her smile. That quickly.

Christian narrowed his gaze.

Amka walked around the bar and delivered the dishes to a table of influencers over by the dartboard. Christian figured that’s what they were, considering they were all talking into their phones. Then talking into each other’s phones. He couldn’t quite get used to this new world.

Jarod opened the till and pulled out some bills. Just how often did he do that?

Christian didn’t spend a lot of time indoors, and he was about at his limit, but someone needed to cover Amka right now.

He wished he could also cover Wyland, but the old guy could take care of himself.

It was still possible that the attacker wanted to hurt Wyland and not Amka, but Christian’s instincts whispered otherwise.

Of course, his instincts might not be on track when it came to that woman.

Jarod shut the till and paused, leaning down to lift up a pink manila folder. Pink? He flipped open the top and red filled his face, turning his ears crimson. His head jerked up.

Awareness pricked through Christian, and he placed his mug on the table.

Amka returned behind the bar and reached for a beer glass.

Jarod pivoted on her, looming over her. Her head snapped up, and fire lit her eyes.

Christian stiffened.

“What are these?” Jarod snapped, loud enough to reach across the room.

The influencers all paused, turning to watch.

Amka let out a sharp breath. Her hands framed her waist, shoulders squared. “That’s not your business.” She didn’t lower her voice, either.

Jarod’s jaw clenched. He grabbed her wrist, turning it with enough force that the beer glass in her other hand rattled against the counter.

She placed it gently on the bar and then punched him in the gut. Jarod doubled over with a muffled oof. Shock filled Amka’s eyes, and she looked down at her fist as if surprised it belonged to her.

Christian stood, muscles coiling. He made it across the bar in a heartbeat. “Let go of her wrist before I break yours and shove it down your fucking throat.”

Jarod released her and stepped away, his mouth open in a quiet snarl. “Mind your fucking business.”

“Problem?” Dutch stepped up behind Christian.

“No.” Jarod said, looking down at Amka. “We need to talk.”

Dutch cleared his throat. “I’m going to ask before the other troopers do. That was a battery. Mr. Teller? Would you like to press charges against this petite and rather well-loved bartender for punching you?”

Jarod ground his teeth together. “Of course not. Amka, let’s go talk.”

She nodded.

“Not a chance,” Christian snarled.

Jarod’s chin lowered, his brown eyes blazing. “She’s my fiancée, asshole.”

Christian settled. He went cold. “She ain’t wearing your ring, now is she?”

Amka lifted a hand. “Daisy? Would you cover the tavern for a moment? If you need help, drag Nixi from her buddies over there. Jarod, let’s talk in the back room.” She’d gone pale, but her chin didn’t waver.

Triumph flashed in Jarod’s eyes. “Yeah. Let’s do that.”

Amka’s gaze met Christian’s. “It’s okay, C. I’m fine.”

Something ugly dropped into his gut. Something dark and churning. “If you need help, call out. I’ll be sitting right here at the bar. Teller, if you touch her, they’ll never find your body.”