Page 8 of Thaw of Spring (Knife’s Edge, Alaska #2)

T he cocking of a pistol stopped Christian as he slipped halfway into his brother’s cabin. He grinned. “You heard me?”

“No. Felt a disturbance,” Ace mumbled.

Christian moved all the way inside to see his brother sprawled on the threadbare sofa, gun in hand. A fire roared in the wood stove behind him, warming the entire cabin. “You’re slurring a bit too much to be holding a gun on me.”

Ace snorted and placed the weapon on the crumbling sofa table next to him.

A nearly empty bottle of Jack, no glass, also took residence there.

“I figured you’d be by one of these days.

” His light green eyes were bloodshot and his brown hair stood on end.

But he’d shaved, and his newest scar showed from his jawline down to his collarbone. A scar he had yet to explain.

Chances were it came from crashing that military jet a year or so ago, but who the hell knew? “I thought you quit drinking.”

Ace snorted and stretched his legs onto the dusty coffee table, knocking over several empty beer cans. “I only stop when the bottle goes dry, brother.”

“All right,” Christian said amiably.

Ace’s gaze narrowed. “All right?”

“Yep. If you’re going to be a total dumbass, I guess it’s time to drag your ass to Smitty.” The guy was the closest thing they had to a shrink in Knife’s Edge, considering he’d worked as a bartender for sixty years. “Let’s go.” He flexed his hands, ready to start throwing punches.

Anticipation quirked Ace’s full lips. “Much as I’d like to go a couple of rounds, Smitty went to visit a friend in Anchorage. He left earlier this morning.”

Christian stilled. “Two questions. How do you know that, and who’s flying the plane?”

“Smitty dropped by on the way to town to bring me a pie, and I guess the Thombley brothers are flying the routes around here.”

Ah. Smitty baked great pies. “Did he shrink your head?”

“Tried to, but he was swearing up a storm when he left, so I think he failed.” Ace slowly grinned when Christian looked toward the messy kitchen. When had he cleaned this place last? Hank would hate the mess. “I already ate the pie.”

Asshole. “You know the Thombley brothers are jackasses who don’t take enough safety precautions.

Come on, Ace. We need you back up in the air.

” Would it make sense to just force his brother into a plane?

Christian could do it, although he might need Brock’s help. Would Brock go along with that idea?

“No.” Ace reached for the bottle.

Christian kicked out, nailing the glass. It flew behind the sofa and crashed. Glass splintered loudly across the wooden floor. “No more,” he growled.

Ace dropped his bare feet to the floor. “That just wasn’t nice, C.” He crossed his arms. “You gonna break all of my bottles?”

“If I have to.” The heat from the fire roared through the room, burning Christian’s ears. The walls started to close in. He wished he could be outside with Tika running through the trees.

Ace groaned. “Go concentrate on Damian and not me. We all know he’s probably in trouble working at EVE, and frankly, he hasn’t dated anybody since he got divorced. You should figure that out.”

The Electromagnetic Vibrational Experiment, or EVE, was a facility through the pass that included many satellite dishes, a massive antenna field, and grids of transmitters sprawling over fifty acres.

Supposedly they studied the ionosphere there, but nobody really knew.

Damian had recently become the head of security for the place, which did not make sense.

Christian lifted his chin. “Damian got married for a job, probably during some spook spying shit, and then ended it. That’s not real.”

Ace shrugged. “I don’t know. He bunked with me last time he came home, before he went to work at EVE, and yelled out the name Stella. His ex-wife.”

That was news. “Fine. We’ll figure out Damian next. For now, I’m here to give you a heads-up. Somebody set fire via an explosive device to the storage building between Sam’s and Friday’s, and Amka was inside. She’s okay, but I wouldn’t mind a few of us keeping an eye on the tavern for a while.”

Ace stared at him.

Christian stared back, confident his face betrayed nothing.

“Why?” Ace asked.

“If we have somebody in town trying to burn it down, we should find out who. Don’t you think?”

Ace leaned his head back. “Fine. I’ll come to town more often.”

Christian relaxed. Ace might be killing his liver with booze, but he could fight if necessary. Brutally. “All right. We’ll talk more about drinking later.” Christian had to get out of there.

“Can’t wait,” Ace drawled.

Dr. May Smirnov slid out of bed and pulled on leggings and a sweatshirt.

She moved quietly through the hallway into the main room of her cabin, flipping on the lights as she passed.

The fire had burned low, so she added two more logs and stirred the embers until they caught.

She reached behind the stacked wood where two guns were partially visible, shifting them into better cover.

The others were already stored—one in the locked drawer beneath the sink, the rest where no one would find them unless they had a key and time.

She went to the door and unlocked the two middle bolts, leaving the top and bottom in place. She nudged down the floor bolt she always engaged at night to keep the door from being kicked open and checked the windows out of habit. Everything was still covered. No gaps.

In the kitchen, she opened a bottle of sparkling water and paused. Wine crossed her mind, but that was out. If Amka had a head injury, alcohol was a bad idea.

A knock came. Soft.

May still flinched.

She exhaled, shook it off, and went to the door to unlock the remaining bolts. She opened it just far enough to confirm it was Amka and then let her in. “Come on,” she said. “You’re pale. Are you hurt?”

“I’m all right. I took some Advil.” Amka stepped inside.

That wouldn’t be enough if there were cracked ribs. May bit back the impulse to ask for a pain scale rating and helped her out of her jacket. “Do you want me to prescribe something stronger?”

Amka kicked off her boots and hung her hat on a hook. “No, thanks. I need to keep my wits these days.”

“Sit.” May resisted the habit to check her friend’s vitals. She noted Amka’s pallor and the guarded way she moved while favoring one side. That bruised rib must be hurting her. “I have sparkling water and some hot chocolate somewhere. Are you hungry?”

“No, thank you. Sparkling water is good.” Amka walked into the main room and sat back in the corner of the couch, arms wrapped around herself.

May poured the water and brought it to her. “Here.”

Amka took it with both hands, her fingers shaking.

May sat across from her, cataloging her friend’s breath rates and composure. She tucked one leg beneath her. “All right. What’s going on?”

Amka stared at the glass for a moment. Then she looked up. “I needed to talk to someone. Since you’re my doctor, that means this stays here, right? Confidential?”

May gave a short nod. “It does.”

Amka stared at her, face unreadable, eyes sharp in the low light. “No matter what?”

May took a sip of her drink. “Of course. Always, Amka. If not by friendship, then definitely by doctor-patient confidentiality.”

“So you can’t tell anyone what I’m about to say?”

Awareness crawled up May’s spine. “I promise I won’t say anything unless you’re in danger. Or someone else is. If that’s the case, I have to speak up.”

“The danger is in letting this get out,” Amka said. Her mouth curved into something that might have been a smile but looked more like a pained grimace.

May tilted her head, trying to read more in the expression than Amka was offering. What in the world was going on? She was missing something and couldn’t catch a thought. “Do you know who planted the explosive device?”

“No.” Amka waved a hand. “Of course not. I have no clue.” She blinked, then looked away. “That’s just one more thing to deal with later.”

May sat forward slightly. Wait a minute. Somebody might’ve tried to kill the woman, and that wasn’t her biggest concern right now? “What is going on?”

Amka took a breath, held it, then let it out slow. “Okay. I’m not sure if you heard, but the district attorney decided not to prosecute Flossy for shooting Hank.”

“I heard,” May said. The relief hit faster than expected. “I’m glad. I like Flossy, and honestly, from the medical records I read, Hank was close to dying already. He had to be in so much pain.”

Amka flattened a bruised hand on one of her jean clad legs. “Yes, he was.”

May nodded. “That’s good news, though, right? I mean, I get that the whole town confessed—including me—but she only did what Hank asked. That’s not what’s bothering you?”

Amka shook her head. Her grip on the glass tightened. “No. Not at all, and nobody knows this.” Amka looked up at May, her voice lower now, more raw. “I helped her.”

May’s eyebrows drew together. Wait. What? “You helped Flossy?”

Amka wiped her eyes. “She didn’t have the strength. I was on my way to work on the snowmobile, heading to open the tavern. I came up on them by the river. Hank was all but begging her to do it. She was holding the shotgun, but she could barely lift it. Her hands were shaking.”

May stared, silent for a beat.

“I didn’t pull the trigger,” Amka added quickly. “I just steadied her. Helped her hold the gun. That’s it. The recoil knocked both of us over when it went off, and then Hank…he fell into the river.”

“Oh my God.” May sat back, stunned. “I read that he did have water in his lungs but not a lot. The shot killed him.”

“Yeah, they said he died seconds later. Might’ve already been gone when he hit the water. Either way, he didn’t make it. We left. I was late getting to work, and no one asked questions.”

May’s voice was quieter now. “Amka, I understand. I really do. So would most people in town. But I don’t see what this has to do with the explosion.”