Page 42 of Thaw of Spring (Knife’s Edge, Alaska #2)

C hristian stood in the hallway, arms braced on either side of the doorframe, staring into the clinic room like he could will the machines to do their damn jobs when too often they’d failed in his life.

In clinics and hospitals a million miles away from this one, in dirt and sand, blood and eventual death. But he was here now. Home in Alaska.

Nixi remained unconscious, a pale figure swallowed by hospital sheets and shadows. Oxygen cannula in place. Bandages on her arm. A burn on her neck just starting to blister. The monitor beeped steadily, showing normal vitals, but quiet. Too quiet.

He hated that sound. It was a false comfort. Machines could lie. He’d seen them do it before—steady vitals until they flatlined in the middle of a breath.

Amka sat outside the exam room, blanket draped around her shoulders like armor. One knee bounced. She appeared calm but a tear tipped over onto her face.

Christian’s jaw locked.

Someone had just tried to kill her. Again.

He clenched his fists and exhaled through his nose. He wanted names. Faces. A reason. But mostly, he wanted blood. Whoever had planted that device, whoever had set that fire—they hadn't missed by much. If Amka hadn’t shut the door from the kitchen when she went into the bar, she’d be dead.

He forced the thought down. Buried it like a live wire.

May stepped out of Nixi’s room, chart in hand.

Her scrubs were clean now, hair pulled back.

Professional. Controlled. Not the woman passed out at the bar two hours ago.

“She’s stable,” May said, her voice clinical and direct.

“The smoke inhalation isn’t critical, but she’s hypoxic.

There’s swelling in her airways. She needs to stay here under oxygen and observation.

I’ve set her fractured radius. I’ll sedate her if she starts to panic again. ”

Christian exhaled. “How long?”

“At least overnight. Maybe longer. I’ll know more after the next scan and blood gas. We’ve started fluids. She’s going to be weak for a while.”

He looked over her shoulder at Nixi’s still form. “She said Damian’s name.”

“And she spoke Russian. Just who the heck is this woman?” May asked.

Christian slowly shrugged, the tension pulling tight between his shoulders.

May tucked the chart against her chest. “You need to take Amka home.”

His gaze snapped to her.

“She’s not burned. Not concussed. But her cortisol is off the charts and her blood pressure is riding a spike that’s going to crash sooner than later.

” May’s voice didn’t waver. “You keep her upright any longer, she’s going to fall on her face.

If you want her safe, get her horizontal with a blanket and water. ”

“Got it.”

May turned back into Nixi’s room. “Take my rig tonight, because I’m staying here. I’ll call if anything changes.”

The outside door opened and Steve the influencer guy helped Lorrie Warner inside. The widow leaned heavily against him, and she’d gone stark pale.

May hurried toward them. “What’s happened?”

Steven handed the woman over. “We were by the pool tables when something exploded in the kitchen, and a mug fell off one of the shelves above us and hit her on the head. She seemed fine, but then she passed out after we finished helping Dutch lock up.”

May put her arm over the woman’s shoulders. “Come on back to an examination room. Let’s take a look at you, um?—”

“Lorrie,” the woman whispered. “I came up here to identify my husband’s body. I just want to take him home.”

Christian stepped back, dug out his phone, and moved toward the far wall of the hallway. He scrolled to Damian’s name to call.

One ring. Two. Voicemail.

He hung up. Tried again. Same result.

Christian didn’t curse. Didn’t pace. Just stared at the wall while heat started crawling back up his spine. If Damian was embedded, the radio silence could be anything—mission blackout, comms interference, or just his usual ghost routine.

Still, Christian hated the silence.

He’d do anything to protect his brothers. But what did Damian need in this situation? Christian had sensed something in Nixi’s voice just before she passed out. Panic. Recognition. The way she’d said Damian’s name, like it wasn’t just a word. Like it was a warning…or a need.

Christian moved back into her room and took a picture with his phone.

Not a close-up, just enough. Nixi’s face, half turned on the pillow, the oxygen line stark against her pale skin.

He moved around and got a better shot of her entire face.

Even so pale, with bruises already forming, she was lovely.

Damian’s type? Or Damian’s enemy? Or someone he once worked with?

Christian sent the picture to his brother with a message:

EXPLOSION. NAME IS NIXI. SHE’S ALIVE. SPOKE RUSSIAN AND SAID YOUR NAME RIGHT BEFORE SHE PASSED OUT. YOU KNOW HER?

He hit send.

Still nothing.

Christian scrubbed a hand down his face, then turned to find Amka sitting, arms tight around her ribs like she was holding herself together by force of will alone. He crossed the hall. “You’re done here,” he said softly.

Her chin lifted, defiant.

May’s voice echoed in his head. You want her safe, get her horizontal. “I’m not asking,” he added.

Amka’s lips pressed into a line, but she didn’t argue. Didn’t snap back like she might’ve on another day. She stood without a word, blanket slipping off her shoulders, and walked with him through the exit, quiet and steady until they reached the cold night air.

Then she leaned into him. Not much. Just enough to tell him she needed the contact but wouldn’t admit it out loud. He gave in to his own needs and turned, lifting her against his chest. Right where he wanted her.

He didn’t look back. Nixi was safe for now. Damian would call when he could. But Amka was still breathing beside Christian. And she was his priority.

Everything else could burn.

Tika showed up like a storm.

Amka was halfway through peeling off her smoke-wrecked sweater in Christian’s living room when the front door blew open and the wolf-dog barreled in, all muscle and mud and eyes that didn’t match.

“Oh my,” she muttered, just in time to catch him before he launched all hundred pounds of himself onto the couch.

“Hey,” Christian protested, moving for the animal.

Amka held up a hand as she and the animal landed on the sofa. “No. He’s fine. Let him be.”

Tika barked once, sharp and proud, then dropped to her lap with a huff. His fur was damp, his paws filthy, and he smelled like pine needles and the wind. She ran her hands along his sides anyway, checking for wounds. Nothing but brambles.

“You didn’t call him home,” she said.

“I don’t need to. He comes home when he’s ready.”

She looked up at Christian. He was leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, eyes shadowed but steady. That hit her strange. She stared at him, then at the dog sprawled over her legs, then back again. She saw them both. “You’re the same,” she said. “You and him.”

Christian raised an eyebrow. “Because we have different colored eyes and growl?”

“No,” she said. “Because you don’t belong in a cage, and God help anyone who threatens what you care about.”

Christian didn’t respond. But his mouth twitched like maybe he wanted to.

“And the eyes,” she added, softer. “People look at both of you and only see the wild.”

He almost smiled again. “You saying I need obedience training?”

The idea made her laugh, and at the feeling, her entire body relaxed. Finally. “No. I’m saying I get it. Would never cage either of you.” She went with her heart and said what she thought. It was all she had, and she’d give it to him. “Thought you should know that.”

The silence that followed wasn’t awkward. Just real. Like something had settled between them.

Then she remembered. She sat up straighter, nearly pushing Tika off her lap. “I needed to show you something earlier.”

He tensed. “What?”

“Somebody left a note by the back door. I didn’t recognize the handwriting.”

“Where is it?”

She should’ve shoved it in her pocket. “I put it under the invoices and forgot all about it after the explosion.”

His mouth firmed. “What did it say?”

“The note said that the town would hate me if they found out about Hank, that Flossy should be in prison, and that I need to give them fifty thousand dollars for their confidentiality. No. That Jarod and I need to have fifty grand. That he has insurance money and I own the tavern.” She gulped.

“Somebody is blackmailing me. Again. But also Jarod. Is this someone new, or could it be the person he trusted to have the video?”

Christian’s face didn’t change, but she saw the shift in him. The way he pulled inward, calculating. Fierce. Before he could speak, his phone buzzed from his back pocket. A quick expression of annoyance darkened his handsome face before he pulled it out. “What?”

The man really didn’t like the phone, now did he?

“Doing what?” He remained still in that way he had. “From credit cards? Yeah? What about video?” He listened again. “Canvas? Yeah. I guess it’s worth a shot. Thanks for tonight. You were on it.” He clicked off.

Amka tilted her head.

“Background from Jarod’s credit cards came in.

All of those trips to Anchorage? He stayed at the Wallace Motel most every time, and he ate meals out.

With somebody. This was all last year, so it’s doubtful we’ll find any CCTV, but Dutch has a couple of troopers hitting the motel and each of the restaurants to see if we can find who Jarod ate with. ”

That didn’t sound helpful. “Nothing else?”

Christian studied her. “He spent a lot of time at a couple of strip clubs.”

She rolled her eyes. “I couldn’t care less.

I’d just like to know if the person trying to kill me thinks I know something about Jarod, because I don’t.

” Frustration crawled with pinpricks beneath her skin.

It wasn’t fair. “We’re no closer figuring out who wants me dead, or who has the video of Hank’s death.

” Her entire life was at risk from both situations.

“I know.” Christian eyed the window as energy rolled off him.

She looked out at the darkness. “You can go, C. I’m safe here. Nobody knows where we are.” This place was probably the safest place in Alaska right now. “Go. Take Tika if you want.”

He clenched his jaw so hard a muscle rippled near his cheekbone. “I’m not leaving you.”

Sweet. The dangerous man had such a sweet side. He’d probably be insulted if she told him that. So she stood. “When you sleep outside, where do you go?”

He didn’t answer. Just stood there looking at her, a glitter in his eyes. A deep one.

“Christian?”

“There’s a ridge up behind the cabin. Protected from the wind with views in every direction. Set into the hill.”

So nobody could surprise him. From any direction. “It sounds nice.” She dropped the blanket and walked over to him, taking his hand. He let her. “Do you have to sleep alone out there?”

His chin slowly lifted. “You are not sleeping outside just because I have issues.”

“It isn’t raining, and the stars are out. Why wouldn’t I want to sleep outside?” She’d grown up in Alaska, for goodness sakes. “I’ve camped out beneath the northern lights so many times I can’t count them. Why do you feel badly about sleeping in nature?”

“Because I have to. When there isn’t a choice, it’s a weakness.”

Wow. When he decided to be truthful and possibly vulnerable, he went all in.

She tightened her grip on his hand, which was so much bigger than hers.

Warmer, too. “Look at it like a strength. The entire world is trying to get back to nature, and you live easily there. I can’t imagine anybody not wanting to sleep outside on a night like this.

I’d like to sleep with you.” Beneath the millions of stars they could see in Alaska.

“You’ve been in two explosions in less than a week, and your body has to hurt. You need a bed.”

“I need you.” Apparently he wasn’t the only one being vulnerable tonight. “Where you’re comfortable. I assume you have a sleeping bag?”

“Of course.”

She looked down at the wolf-pup, who was staring at her like he was also following the conversation.

Somehow. “Then let’s all sleep outside. Yeah, I hurt.

But nature can heal. You know it, our people have always known it, and I feel it deep inside.

” She’d always embraced her Inuit culture, and the pulse of Alaska sang through her often. “Please.”

He straightened. “All right. But if you get cold or uncomfortable, you will tell me. Got it?”

“Yeah.” She felt like she’d won a huge battle. “Show me your spot, Christian.”