Sergeant's Christmas Siege

by Megan Crane

  But what Isaac Gentry did not look like, to Kate’s educated eye, was an unhinged survivalist cult leader.

  Then again, things weren’t always what they seemed.

  “I’m not sure I know of anyone who has warm, fuzzy feelings about corporations,” Kate pointed out. She kept walking until she had her back to a wall and could see all three Alaska Force members who stood in the room with her. It struck her how similar they all were, for all that they looked so different. Templeton was tall and wicked. Isaac looked so friendly. Bethan looked compact and tough. But all three of them had that same watchful stillness. The same hint of leashed power, just waiting to be set free.

  Kate couldn’t imagine how they ever convinced anyone that they were regular citizens.

  “Corporations are made of people,” Isaac replied. “If you hate them, you hate people. Do you?”

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Gentry,” Kate said. “I have a lot of questions for you.”

  “Fire away,” Isaac said cheerfully. He wandered in farther and tossed himself down on one of the couches, stretching out his legs in front of him and his arms to either side. Like a regular guy in his living room instead of a superhero—­or supervillain—­in his very own Batcave. “What do you want to know? I’m an open book.”

  “The first thing that comes to mind, off the top of my head, is why you find it necessary to stockpile an arsenal in a remote part of Alaska.”

  Isaac’s laugh was as friendly and encouraging as the rest of him. It made Kate want to laugh along with him. She didn’t.

  “I’m fully licensed and entirely legal, Officer,” Isaac assured her. “As is everyone who lives in Fool’s Cove.”

  “If you weren’t, I wouldn’t be here alone, engaging in this friendly chat. I’d be here with a warrant and any number of fellow officers. But what I’d like to know is why you feel it’s necessary.”

  “Alaska Force is a private security firm,” Isaac said.

  “You mean a military company.”

  “We’re not big enough to feel that corporate, Trooper Holiday. Deliberately.”

  “Funny, I’m convinced there’s a word to describe a ragged little band of private actors with mili­taristic leanings.” Kate pretended to think. “Oh yes. Mercenaries.”

  “If we were nothing but mercenaries, I doubt local law enforcement would allow us to keep operating.” Isaac grinned. “Would you?”

  “I’ll be honest with you, Mr. Gentry. I don’t like private armies.”

  “Trooper Holiday is not a fan of armed men in remote, defensible positions,” Templeton chimed in. “Makes her twitchy.”

  “It does make me twitchy,” Kate agreed. “I’m sure I don’t need to tell you that a lot of people think that they can come on up to Alaska, get far away from civilization, and make their own rules.”

  “A person might argue that’s what Alaska’s for,” Temple­ton drawled.

  But Isaac kept grinning at her. “Maybe they do, but that’s not me. I’m a local boy. Born and bred right here in Grizzly Harbor.”

  “And you trade on that,” Kate said coolly. “But I’m not sure that aw-­shucks routine can really stand in the face of repeated arson attempts.”

  “Why would I torch my own buildings?” There wasn’t much aw shucks in Isaac’s expression then. “That’s not a rhetorical question. What benefit could I possibly get from it? I obviously don’t want a lot of attention, or I wouldn’t be here. I like the middle of nowhere. I don’t like crowds. I don’t like cities. I’ve seen a little too much to ever be comfortable with someone else’s wall at my back. There’s nothing in it for me to go around blowing things up.”

  “Unless this is all sleight of hand.” Kate smiled. “If you’re blowing up a boat here, what are you distracting us from over there?”

  “I’m a marine,” Isaac said, and she was sure there was an edge to his friendly grin. “Not a magician.”

  “There’s no point to Alaska Force engaging in arson all over Southeast Alaska,” Templeton said. And when Kate looked back over at him, she shivered into a different kind of awareness. It was something about the way his eyes glittered. She had the distinct, if ridiculous, notion that he didn’t like her smiling at Isaac. But she shoved that thought away as soon as it formed. “The simplest explanation is that someone else is doing it.”

  “Claiming that some unknown entity is framing you is not the simplest explanation.” Kate shook her head. “Why would anybody want to do that?”

  “This might come as a shock to you, since you think we’re an evil cult racing around doing harm,” Templeton drawled. “But there are a whole lot of bad guys who would be thrilled if we weren’t around to keep messing up their plans.”

  Kate sighed. “Do you think that you’re in a comic book, Mr. Cross? Bad guys versus good guys? Wait, let me guess. You’re actually made of steel, invulnerable except for that pesky kryptonite.”

  “Everyone has their kryptonite, ma’am,” Bethan said then, with a laugh that made Kate too aware, suddenly, of how intensely she’d been staring at Templeton. “That’s pretty much the first thing they look for in boot camp.”

  Kate ordered herself to take a breath. To center herself, remember why she was here, and stop . . . reacting to Templeton like this.

  “What none of you seem to understand is that I can’t effectively tell the difference between metaphoric, colorful language and a widespread, shared delusion,” she said when she thought she had herself under control again, no matter the sensation shivering around inside her and making her so . . . jittery. “What I do know are the facts. A lot of arson, all of a sudden. And going back years, too many incidents involving questionable behavior and you. Is this a situation where all the smoke means fire? Or are you right that your hands are clean, if without official oversight? I have no way of telling. So far, everything has been very cloak-­and-­dagger or I’ve been treated to a number of performances, none of which I believe are genuine.”

  And she didn’t look at Templeton when she said that. She didn’t have to. She heard the bark of his laughter, and whether or not he was performing, she still felt it thud through her.

  “I have nothing to hide.” Isaac sounded as friendly and approachable as ever. “I’m private, not secretive. And you’re here now.” He opened his arms wider along the couch. “Knock yourself out. Investigate to your heart’s content. Invite all your friends.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Gentry,” Kate said, smiling wide herself, as if they were buddies. “I’ll take you up on that offer.”

  Isaac rose to his feet then, with a powerful ease that showed who he really was behind all the grinning geniality. In case she was tempted to forget. “The only thing I’ll ask is that you stay out of our active situation room, because we make a commitment to our clients to keep their personal information confidential. When I say commitment, I mean legal documents. You want to challenge that, be my guest. But it will take a judge’s order.”

  “What I have to ask,” Kate mused, “is why, if you planned to be so open and obliging all along, you avoided setting up this interview?”

  “Because I’m not guilty of anything,” Isaac said with a laugh. “How would you like it if the police wanted to comb through your life and business while hinting that you have terrorist leanings?”

  “I’d assume they were doing their job.”

  “You’re more trusting than I am,” Isaac said, with that same friendly smile. And something in his gaze reminded her what kinds of things he must have done while in the service. What sorts of places he’d been. “But you’re here now. Do your job at will.”

  “Thank you,” Kate said, and smiled blandly. “I’m taking you at your word. I hope that’s wise.”

  Templeton laughed again, and it didn’t make Kate want to laugh along with him—­it seemed to lodge it­self inside her, daring her not to free-­fall str
aight into it. Into him.

  She scowled at him instead.

  “We keep our promises and honor our word,” Templeton told her. “That’s the number one rule of Alaska Force. It’s not a fight club. It’s about honesty, or we can’t do our jobs. We all take that seriously.”

  “I’m delighted to hear it.” Kate whipped out her pad and clicked her pen. “Out of curiosity, how many times do you think someone has stood in front of me, monologuing about their commitment to honesty? And of the people who did, how many times do you think I’ve discovered that they were, in fact, lying to me?”

  Templeton shook his head, and Kate told herself that the gleam she saw in his dark eyes, golden and fierce, did nothing. It didn’t make her feel warm. It didn’t make a jangly sort of light dance around inside her.

  It did absolutely nothing at all.

  “You have a very dark take on humanity, Trooper,” Templeton drawled. “Me? I’m an optimist. And this is the Christmas season. No better time to get your very merry on.”

  “I don’t celebrate Christmas,” Kate said crisply. “So I’m afraid I’m going to have to concentrate on evidence, not Christmas carols, to form my conclusions. If that’s all the same to you.”

  Templeton didn’t argue. What he did do was whistle every Christmas carol Kate had ever heard as he ushered her out of the lodge’s main room and into the offices beyond, stopping only when they were in the presence of other people. In between renditions of “Let It Snow,” “O Holy Night,” and “Frosty the Snowman,” Kate ran down a checklist of everybody she knew to be in Alaska Force, and met many of them on her tour of the Fool’s Cove facilities.

  She found Blue Hendricks and Jonas Crow hunched over schematics in one room, talking mission parameters. She met Alexander Oswald, otherwise known as Oz, who briefed her in a general way on current Alaska Force operations. Rory Lockwood still maintained he’d hurt himself last spring, and looked no worse for wear as he showed her one of their gun ranges and even offered her the opportunity to practice a few rounds herself. Kate declined.

  While the fragile daylight held its own against the gathering clouds, Templeton led her down the beach to their workout facility, which was exactly what he’d said it was—­an empty space with mats on the floor, a pull-­up rig, free weights, and sandbags stacked against one wall. He pointed out various cabins up in the hills and told her their functions, whether they were private dwellings or part of the corporate footprint. If she wanted to look inside, he let her.

  But anytime they weren’t actually talking, he was caroling. At her.

  When he cycled back around to “God Rest Ye Merry, Gentlemen” for the third time, they were marching along the cold beach, the breeze whipping in from the water and making Kate huddle deeper into her warm jacket. Templeton had been at pains to point out that the beach was part of a natural cove. It wasn’t a fortress. Or if it was, they hadn’t built it.

  When she hadn’t really responded to that, he’d started the freaking whistling again.

  “I need you to stop,” she told him.

  Possibly she snapped it at him.

  He looked innocent, which was a stretch. “I’m filled with holiday spirit. Given your name, I figured you would be, too.”

  Kate wasn’t about to get into a discussion about her surname. Though what concerned her was that she felt the urge to do just that. What was the matter with her? Why did this man get to her when no one else had ever gotten near her?

  “Is this how you run your non-­mercenary missions?” she demanded. “You find your enemy, then pinpoint what irritates them to death?”

  He considered. “Well, yes. More or less. Now that I think about it.”

  “I’m not sure what reaction you’re going for here.” She studied his face. The day was moodier by the second, and the sullen clouds were crowding out what little light there was. Kate could relate. “You keep treating this like a game. That makes me think that this is a game, which makes me wonder why you’re all playing it. Once again I must caution you against taking my presence here lightly.”

  His smile faded, and what she was left with was that face of his. The face she’d seen first, so powerful and intensely focused, his gaze intent. “I don’t take you lightly at all, Kate.”

  And obviously, there was absolutely no reason that she should find it hard to breathe.

  “Talk me through what you think is happening here,” she managed to make herself say. “What exactly is your role? Somehow you don’t strike me as someone whose primary purpose in life is wandering around, belting out Christmas carols.”

  “Pretty sure I was whistling. Not belting out anything.”

  “I understand that this is supposed to be a charm offensive. Why does Alaska Force think it needs to send you out to do your big laugh, butter wouldn’t melt unless you want it to thing?”

  He looked frozen for a split second, and that should have felt like a win. Kate didn’t know why instead, she felt almost . . . apologetic.

  A feeling she swallowed down. Hard.

  “I’m here to be your point person, that’s all,” Templeton said. “The Christmas carols are just a bonus.”

  “I don’t want Christmas carols.” She was horrified to find that her voice was much too thick. Too . . . telling. “And I certainly don’t want a man trailing me around and cozying up to me. I don’t know what your agenda is. I find it off-­putting and offensive.”

  “Okay.”

  “. . . Okay?”

  Templeton made a symphony out of a shrug, but his gaze wasn’t lazy. Or mocking. It was much harder than that. “I am who I am, Trooper Holiday. I’m not going to close it up, lock it away, and pretend I’m someone else to make you feel better about your bogus investigation into my friends when you could be out there tracking the people who are actually responsible for these fires. Sorry if you find that offensive.”

  “I’m not asking you to stop being who you are,” she managed to grit out, not entirely sure why her pulse was leaping around like he’d attacked her. “I’m asking you to stop with the overly familiar remarks. Or the use of my first name, when I expressly requested that you address me by my title.”

  “I’m a casual, friendly guy.” And the drawl was so Deep South then, she was surprised she couldn’t smell the grits. “You’re the one who wanted honesty. Well, here I am. Honest and in your face.”

  “I suggest you change your unbridled so-­called honesty to some­thing more respectful,” she managed to say, sounding almost like herself again. “And quickly.”

  “Here’s the thing, Kate.” And Templeton had the audacity to grin at her, and not the way he had before. Because this time he wasn’t doing much to hide the glint of steel in his gaze. “I spent a long time figuring out who I was. I’m not about to change that on a dime because an uptight cop doesn’t like me. You don’t have to like me. In fact, I’d be a little insulted if you did, since I don’t really speak cop and never have. But I’ll remind you that calling you by your name—­or by any name—­isn’t breaking a law.”

  There was no reason she should be gritting her teeth together. She made herself stop.

  “That entire speech is problematic, Sergeant.”

  She expected one of his booming laughs, but instead he gave her more of that steel and intensity, and she found she was holding her breath.

  “I was born problematic, Trooper. I don’t know how to be anything else. And I didn’t come looking for you. You came to us. To me. If you find all of this”—­and he waved a hand in the general direction of his impossibly perfect torso, then out toward the rest of Fool’s Cove and, presumably, all of Alaska Force—­“a problem, go ahead and remove yourself from the problem anytime you like. But if you’re going to stick around, maybe stop lecturing me. Maybe do your actual job and realize that we’re not the threat. Just a thought.”

  And the worst part of that
speech, she thought when he stepped around her and kept going, sauntering on down the beach as if it weren’t cold and frigid and as if he could hang out outside all day long without noticing the temperature, or her, was that he was right. She’d gotten personal.

  When had she allowed herself to get personal? Kate would have been the first to point out to anyone who asked that she didn’t have that in her. She didn’t get personal. She got to work.

  She ordered herself to do that now, feeling a bit grim as she marched down the cold beach after him.

  She’d come here expecting to find more evidence to indicate that Alaska Force was exactly what and who she’d assumed they were. Instead, she found them dis­concertingly . . . sane. Her gut told her they were on the level.

  It was her history that argued otherwise, and she didn’t like that at all. She didn’t understand it, either. The rugged Alaska wilderness did seem to lend itself to peo­ple who sometimes banded together with ill intent, and Kate had distinguished herself as the investigator best equipped to determine if the group in question was headed for the kind of danger zone that led people to throw around words like cult. She’d investigated a handful of other such groups already this fall. Two were family groups looking to live off the land, no matter how harsh. Another was religion-­based, seeking to step away from the modern world. All were no danger to anyone except, arguably, themselves—­if they weren’t up to the rigors of the Alaskan winter.

  But Kate hadn’t felt things while she’d been investigating these groups, except a profound sense of gratitude that she was no longer an unwilling member of a group like theirs.

  She had no idea why this was any different. She wanted to believe it was because Templeton and his friends were the questionable mercenaries she’d imagined they were, but she didn’t think they were. She wanted to believe they were either sick or greedy, but that wasn’t the impression she got anywhere in this pretty little cove.