Page 26 of Thaw of Spring (Knife’s Edge, Alaska #2)

A mka finished pretending to work after about fifteen minutes of shifting things around.

At least Jarod hadn't returned. No doubt he was scared of Christian.

The guy wasn't a moron, but he should be scared of her.

Ha. Right. Like she'd actually hurt him.

She closed the cash drawer like it had personally offended her and wiped the same spot on the counter she'd already cleaned twice.

“Why don’t you go on home?” Daisy didn’t peer up from where she was stacking receipts.

Amka's gaze slid over to Christian across the tavern.

He had that look again. Tight shoulders, jaw clenched, hands flat on the table like they were the only thing keeping him in the building.

He wasn’t fidgeting. Wasn’t twitching. Just sitting still like only he could.

Like he was holding something in by force.

His attention flicked to the front door, then back to the troopers talking shop at the table with him.

Amka didn’t ask. Not now, not ever. He hadn’t volunteered, and she hadn’t pressed. Whatever his reason was for going cagey indoors, it was his. But she'd watched him enough the last few months, coming in, getting soup, leaving fast, to know when he hit his limit. This was it.

“Amka?” Daisy murmured. “I’m happy to close up tonight.”

“Yeah, I think I will head out. Thanks, Daisy.” Amka grabbed her coat off the hook, slung her purse over her shoulder, and crossed the tavern without glancing around.

She watched Christian’s gaze tracking her, and her heart rate sped up as she neared him, but she kept her movements casual, her boots clicking on the old floorboards, steady and unhurried.

At the fireplace, she paused. His shoulders had dropped just enough to be noticeable. His eyes, though, were the same. Focused. Heavy. Like he was balancing on the edge of something sharp.

“You headed out?” Dutch asked, lounging with his shoulders and body relaxed. Good. He needed to take it easy once in a while.

“I am. It’s been a long day.” She looked right at Christian, not blinking. “Do you mind walking me out? After the sniper attack the other day, I would be more comfortable.”

“Absolutely.” He stood like he’d been waiting for the order, already in motion before she finished the sentence. His expression didn’t change, but something flickered behind his eyes. Relief, maybe.

“Thanks. I appreciate it.” She turned and gave the troopers a polite smile. “You all have a good night.” Yeah, maybe she wanted to think she was helping him, just this once. Even if he’d never say the words.

“Ms. Amaruq.” The redheaded trooper looked up, her badge catching the light. Her voice carried without raising. “We need to speak with you again about the explosion and ensuing fire next door. Only two people stand to gain from the destruction. You and Wyland Friday.”

The weight in the room shifted. Everyone seemed to pause, definitely eavesdropping.

“I’d like to be included,” the insurance adjuster said from her stool at the bar. She turned slowly, casual as a cobra, wine glass dangling from two fingers. Her gaze didn’t move off Amka.

One of the influencers, a blonde millennial sitting next to Nixi with a microphone clipped to her coat, whispered something and then twisted in her seat to watch. The others followed, their faces suddenly lit with interest, like they’d just remembered they had followers to feed.

Christian took Amka’s arm in a firm grip. Possessive. Controlled. Like the conversation was over. “Tomorrow.” Without waiting for a response from the trooper, he moved them toward the door. Not fast, but without leaving space for anyone to follow.

Outside, the cold slapped Amka hard enough to burn her lungs. The wind had shifted and now carried damp smoke and thawed mud, thick and sharp. It stuck in her throat and settled low. The rain pattered down, and she barely noticed it, wiping her hair back. It’d rain for the next month. At least.

Christian stepped ahead, scanning. One hand raised, fingers loose but precise. “Hold it.”

She paused on instinct, boots crunching on scattered gravel.

He took two steps forward, eyes tracking the tree line, the surrounding buildings, the shadowed edge of a truck down the way. “We’re good.”

“How do you know?” she asked.

“I’d feel it.”

She watched his profile for a second. His mouth didn’t twitch. His eyes didn’t move. She didn’t push because she believed him. Trusted him. The guy was as solid as the mountains around them, which is why she wouldn’t question him. Plus, he kissed like a god.

Heat flared into her face. The attraction might just kill her, and she had to get a grip as they walked to her SUV. The back window was still boarded up with a piece of plywood.

He caught her glance. “Mountain Man’s Garage should have a new window for you by the end of the week.”

“Christian, you didn’t have to?—”

“No problem.” He moved ahead and opened her door in a not-so-subtle command for her to get in. “I’ll follow you home. I’ve got Brock’s rig tonight.”

Something in her chest unclenched as she slipped inside to sit. “Does your brother know you have his truck?”

“Probably,” Christian muttered, eyes scanning the lot like he expected something to materialize out of the dark.

Amka leaned back a little, arms crossed. “I heard the Miller boys want to unload one.”

Christian snorted. “Those kids ride hard. I’d spend more time fixing it than driving it.” He scrubbed a hand through his dark and now wet hair, letting the rain caress down the hard angles of his face. “I guess I’ll just buy a new one next time I’m in Anchorage. Or Fairbanks.”

She blinked. “You can just buy a new truck?”

“Yeah. Can’t you?”

Her breath caught for a second. Not now, she couldn’t. Now she’d mortgaged her life to the hilt, and she might give all of that to Jarod to protect Flossy. One problem at a time, however. “You don’t have to follow me home,” she said, pulling the door halfway closed.

“Someone’s got to keep watch.”

Her shoulders tensed, and for a second she almost let her head fall to the steering wheel. “Christian, you can’t sit outside my place all night.”

He stepped closer, his presence brushing against her like pressure—not touch, just weight. Heat. “Who says I’m going to sit?”

She rolled her eyes, mostly because her mouth wanted to do something stupid, like smile. Or worse yet, lick that rain right off his face. “Come on. I don’t know why you’ve appointed yourself my protection detail.”

“Because you need it.” He shut her door for her. Firm, sure.

Her pulse ticked hard in her throat.

Through the glass, she could still see his face, backlit by the tavern's outside lights. Her gaze dropped, uninvited, to his mouth. He’d kissed her twice, much better than the dreams she’d had about him. Reality was better when it came to Christian Osprey.

Did she want a third kiss?

Yes. But not here. Not with her life still on fire.

She blew out a breath and started the engine. The fan kicked up with a weak wheeze. Dust, and maybe the faint trace of motor oil from somewhere under the dash. Still, it was familiar. “Whatever,” she muttered, more to herself than him.

She pulled onto the road and noted the headlights catching movement behind her. Brock’s truck fell in close. It was entirely possible that Christian hadn’t asked permission to borrow it. Probably hadn’t even said a word. That made her smile before she could stop it.

Not because it was right.

Because it was so him.

She turned on the radio for some background noise. Her mind was already spinning faster than the beat with too many problems stacking on top of each other with no room to breathe.

What was she going to do about Jarod?

She really would give him everything. Just wipe the slate clean and let him win if he’d promise to destroy the video.

But no. That wasn’t safe. She’d have to see it be deleted, and she’d need some sort of guarantee that other copies were destroyed, if there were some.

She owed that to Flossy, who’d been there her whole life.

Flossy, who had stepped in with grace and kindness after the plane went down and the world flipped inside out. Her parents, both gone, in a single crash right after her eighteenth birthday. It had taken her years to be able to fly again. Years to uncurl her hands from the armrest without shaking.

No wonder Ace couldn’t get up in a plane.

She pressed the gas harder without realizing it and then turned down the river road. The drop was steep and familiar, but not with this much speed. Her headlights caught movement up ahead. A deer. Off to the side.

She tapped the brakes.

Nothing.

She pushed again.

Still nothing.

Oh, God. She couldn’t stop. “Come on,” she whispered, pressing the pedal harder. It sank uselessly.

The car picked up speed, its tires humming louder. The road dropped more sharply ahead into tight turns, no shoulder, and no forgiveness. She could already feel gravity fighting her grip.

Her phone buzzed in the seat next to her. She reached into her purse, fingers fumbling and clicked the screen without looking.

Christian’s voice came through, low and tight. “Slow the hell down. You almost hit a deer.”

“I can’t,” she bit out, her voice sharp as panic careened through her.

“What do you mean you can’t?”

She slammed the brake again, right to the floor. “The brakes aren’t working.”

Silence. A half second. Maybe less. But it sped her panic up higher until her ears heated. “All right. Can you put the car into park? Your seatbelt’s on, isn’t it?”

“Of course my seatbelt’s on.” She grabbed it, yanked it across her chest, and snapped it into place.

“I heard that,” Christian muttered.

She gripped the wheel tighter. The trees blurred past faster than they should have. Her tires caught gravel along the edge and pulled her too close to the shoulder. She jerked the wheel to correct, heart pounding in her throat.

“Christian—” Her voice cracked. She didn’t finish the sentence. The SUV gained speed. The wheel trembled under her grip. Her breath shortened until all she could feel was the weight of the vehicle and the speed and the steep drop ahead. Panic seized her lungs. “What do I do?”

“Put the vehicle in park.”

She shoved the gear lever with all her strength. It didn’t budge. “It won’t go.”

“Okay. Take a deep breath. Just breathe.”

She tried. Inhaled sharply. Her lungs didn’t want to let go of the air. Her heartbeat hammered in her ears. She jerked the wheel left, barely missing a tree, and her tires skidded sideways. “I’m going faster,” she whispered.

“It’s okay,” Christian said calmly. Too calmly. “Twist the keys. See if you can take the key out.”

Hope lit her. Her fingers scrambled for the ignition. Slipped. Scraped the metal. Blood slicked her skin and her eyes blurred. “Oh God. It’s not working.”

“Stay calm, baby,” he said. “You’re going to have to go uphill soon, but you’ve got two quick turns first.”

“I know.” She barely got the words out. Her throat was too dry. If she could just get uphill, maybe, but then what? She’d have to come down again. “I don’t know what to do.”

The SUV shuddered under her, its wheels lifting on the next turn. She could feel it, the right side coming up just enough to lose gravity. Shaking, she yanked the wheel to the left.

“Hold on. Drive like you’re in Indy. Take the curves. Hug them. Okay?”

“Okay.” She could do that. Right? Red edged in from the outside of her vision.

Another deer burst from the trees. She slammed her foot down on the brake with everything she had.

Nothing.

She jerked the wheel again in a motion of pure instinct, and the vehicle launched right.

Off the road.

Into the dark.

She flew high and landed with a hard splash in the freezing-cold river.

The impact crushed her against the seatbelt as the SUV hit nose-first, metal shrieking against rocks underwater.

She screamed again, but the cold ripped the breath right out of her lungs.

Glass cracked and then burst. The sound of water surging into the cabin was deafening.

It flooded fast, no warning, icy and ruthless.

She fought to keep her head above the rising water. Her chest heaved, teeth clattering from the sudden cold. The river was deep here. Too deep. She knew that. Locals always warned about this stretch that had an undertow that didn’t let go.

The SUV was sinking nose-down, pitching toward the dark bottom. Bubbles exploded around her face. Her hands fumbled for her seatbelt and then stopped. She still had seconds. Maybe.

Christian’s voice was gone. Static now.

She couldn’t scream again. Couldn’t spare the breath. Couldn’t afford to waste a single move.

Think. Move. Survive.

She braced one hand against the roof as the water reached her chin, reached for the belt with the other, and yanked the release. It didn’t budge. Her fingers shook. Her skin was going numb. She had to get out.

Now.