Her Alpha Viking

by Sheryl Nantus

  He put his hand atop hers. “She’s not going to give up.”

  “No.” The soft breath brushed his ear. “She can’t. The only way for her to return to Valhalla is to finish her mission.”

  Erik turned to look at Brenna. “So, if she kills me, she goes home?”

  Brenna drew back. “It could be killing you would be enough to free her from her exile, or she needs to dispose of both of us.”

  He rubbed his chin, his fingers skipping over the short bristles. “I’m still thinking of bolting.”

  “I know.”

  He stared at her.

  “The best thing for us to do would be to run down the street and keep going.” She glanced at the nearby window. “That’ll leave us in the same spot as we were before we hooked up with Jake and the others. At least with them around we have some chance of getting a decent night’s sleep.” She sighed. “I hate admitting it, but I like having someone around to watch my back. The two of us are good, but there’s safety in numbers.”

  “Even if it puts them at risk?”

  She eyed him. “We told them the truth. All of it, including who I really am. They chose to stand with us.” A smile touched her lips. “They’ll all be celebrated in Valhalla when they arrive.”

  “As long as it’s after a long and happy life,” he murmured. “At some point, we will have to leave them.” He began to shut down the programs, preparing to leave the computer.

  Her grip tightened on his shoulder.

  He looked up to see the librarian chatting to someone out of sight, gesturing over at where they sat.

  Brenna knelt down, out of sight. The room they were in had no windows, trapping them with only one exit.

  He held his breath as the librarian smiled again and nodded and turned away.

  He counted the seconds it would take for a person to leave the main desk and approach the computer room.

  Beside him he sensed Brenna tensing up, readying for a fight. She’d be able to launch a surprise attack, charge at…

  Helen came into sight, smiling.

  Before he could speak, Brenna came up on the far side of the table, holding up a magazine she’d snatched off another table.

  “Found it,” she announced, getting to her feet. She waved at Helen as she moved to stand beside Erik.

  He nodded his agreement, grateful for her fast thinking. There was no need to worry Helen or worse—feed her imagination.

  “There you two are. I was wondering where you’d gone off to.” She gestured over her shoulder. “Jake’s getting restless. Already called Mark and told him to find Lucy. Time to head on back.” She held up a plastic bag and beamed at Brenna. “They’ve actually got some locally made wool. You won’t believe the colors.”

  Erik forced a smile past his jangled nerves. “We’ll be right out. Just checking our mail.”

  She gave them one last wave and spun around, away from them. Her cheerful comment to the librarian as she walked out echoed back to their ears.

  Erik felt his hands ache and glanced down to see clenched fists, preparing for a fight.

  Brenna locked eyes with him and nodded.

  I know.

  This can’t go on.

  “Come on.” He took her hand. “They’re waiting.”

  Jake and Helen were already standing by the van, Helen loading her purchases onto the seat as they approached the vehicle.

  Mark came down the sidewalk, shaking his head. He waved them over, his forehead furrowed.

  “Lucy’s busy. Might be a few minutes.”

  “Busy?” Brenna looked at Helen and Jake, standing by the van.

  Mark waited until all four were close enough to speak in a low tone. “Lucy’s talking to someone in the alley. She was walking up the street, coming this way, when a guy stepped out of the café and waved at her. She looked at me before peeling off and went into the gap between the two stores, following him.”

  “Shit,” Helen said. “Any idea who he was?”

  Mark shook his head. “No idea. He was an older guy, maybe in his fifties.” He glanced at Jake. “No offense.”

  Jake moved by him, ignoring the weak joke. “You think she’s in danger?”

  Mark glared at him. “She saw me. I was ready to go over—if she’d said something or waved me on, I’d be right there.” He raised his hands. “Didn’t seem out of sorts so figured I’d back off, stay close.” He nudged a thumb over his shoulder. “The alley’s over there.”

  “What do you want to do?” Brenna asked.

  Jake rubbed his chin, fingers scratching through his beard. “Could be something, could be nothing. Interesting someone found her in town.”

  “Interesting indeed,” Helen echoed. She moved closer to Jake. “I don’t remember her saying anything about expecting a visitor.”

  “Are you sure it was a man?” Brenna demanded. She moved past the group, staring down the street. “Not a woman?”

  Erik choked back the fear clawing at his throat. If Kara had found them here, in the middle of town…

  “She’d have screamed if it was your stalker,” Mark said, shaking his head. “She’s not helpless. Also, not stupid—she’s unlikely to go wandering off with a stranger.”

  As if on cue, Lucy came out of the side street, leaning heavily on the man’s arm. She stumbled once, prompting the entire group to rush forward.

  Erik scanned their possible opponent. Mark was right—he was in Jake’s age group, wearing a leather jacket and jeans. His long white hair was pulled into a tight braid, and he’d shaved recently.

  The man held up his left hand in both greeting and surrender as Lucy leaned heavily on his right arm, tears streaming down her face.

  “Hello.” He pulled up short. “You must be her traveling friends. Pleased to meet you.” He paused. “Sorry about the circumstances.”

  Brenna released Erik and charged forward, her hands curling up into fists. “What did you do to her?”

  Lucy put out her hand, stopping Brenna in her tracks. “Please. Don’t.”

  “Nothing.” The man looked at Lucy, now reduced to just sniffling. “Didn’t mean to make her cry, but that’s how it turns out sometimes with good news. Of a sort, I figure.”

  Helen moved in past Brenna, cautiously reaching out to touch Lucy’s arm. “Honey. Are you okay?”

  Lucy wiped her eyes with an angry swipe of her sleeve. “Yes. Sort of.” She looked at the older man. “Thanks, Phil. I appreciate you coming all the way out here to find me.” She let out a ragged sigh. “He’s my step-father. Saw on the website we were going to be out here and figured he’d try to find me in town before the presentation tonight. Worst case he’d come to the show but didn’t want to do that if he could.”

  “Why didn’t he call?” Erik ventured.

  Phil grunted. “Some news you don’t want to give over the phone. Or in public, standing around with a bunch of strangers.” He glanced at Lucy, receiving a nod in return. “Her father passed away last week. Didn’t feel right to send something like that through an email.”

  “Oh, sweetie.” Helen wrapped her arms around Lucy. “I’m so sorry.”

  “We’re not.” Phil’s gruff reply froze them all in place. “Son of a bitch better be burning in hell.”

  Lucy’s grip tightened on his arm. Helen made a soft noise but said nothing.

  “Okay, then.” Jake nodded. “If you want to get your stuff out of the van…”

  “What for?” Lucy said. “I’m finishing the trip.” She swallowed hard. “I made a commitment to you, to the others. We’re expecting an audience, and I’m not going to let them down.”

  Helen shook her head. “But your father…”

  “My father was an asshole who used to beat me.” She swallowed hard, sweat beading on her forehead. “For any reason he could think of. Not buttering his toast to the edges, his coffee was too hot or too cold. There was no logic to it. Hit my mother, too. We broke away one night, waited until he’d drunk himself to sleep. Packed one bag
between us and ran, terrified he’d wake up before we could get away. Went to a shelter and never looked back.”

  Erik stood still, frozen to the spot as the revelation rolled over them. Brenna’s hand slipped into his, trembling as she tightened her grip.

  Phil nodded. “I met Laurel a few years after that, when she’d built a new life for herself and her daughter.” He squeezed Lucy’s hand. “She never pursued a divorce, and he never came looking. Been out of our lives for decades. Got himself killed in a bar fight. His family figured it’d be good to let us know, close the door on that.” He let out a growl. “Wished I’d been the one sending him to hell.”

  Lucy closed her eyes. “We’ve gone over this. Better you not have blood on your hands.” She rose on her toes and kissed his cheek. “You go fly back and I’ll see you in a bit. We should hit Washington on time.”

  “Your mother?” Helen whispered. “Won’t she need you?”

  Phil rolled his shoulders. “She passed away years ago. Cancer. Just the two of us.” He hugged Lucy again. “Still can’t say sorry enough times.”

  “Wasn’t your fault. You were there when I needed you, when she needed you. I’ll always be grateful for that.” Lucy gently disengaged from both of them and stood alone. “When are they burying him?”

  “Tomorrow. His side got the money together for a grave. They didn’t do much other than give me the info—they know how we feel about the situation.” He eyed her. “If you want to come home with me and spend some quiet time, no one’s gonna say anything. If you wanna stay with your friends, same thing.” He looked at the three men. “Goes without saying I trust your judgment in this.”

  “No.” Lucy wiped her eyes again. “I’ll see you when I finish up at Washington and then we’ll deal with it.” She drew a staggered breath. “Thanks again for coming to see me.”

  “I might not be your biological dad, but you know I’ll do everything I can for you.” He nodded at the group. “Thanks all for being there for her.”

  “We always will be,” Helen said.

  Phil nodded and gave Lucy one last bone-crushing hug before giving them a last glance and walking away.

  “Fuck.” Mark rubbed the back of his neck. “I always thought the night terrors were from combat. I mean…”

  “They are,” Lucy answered. “Just not the ones you were thinking of.”

  As one they all moved in on her, the group hug a surge of love and strength.

  Helen wiped her eyes. “Damn. We’re going to look awful for the presentation.”

  Jake grunted. “I’ll step in tonight, me and Mark.”

  Lucy glared at him. “Excuse me?” She drew a deep breath and looked at each of them in turn. “I joined the military to make a difference, to help protect people. When I was in Afghanistan, I made a point of helping the women to learn how to stand on their own, to not become victims. That was my fight, my goal. And we did a damned good job.” She smiled, and Erik saw a flash of the steel spine lying within. “So I’m going to talk about that, and we’re going to have a nice dinner and go back to the campfire afterward and keep on doing what we’ve been doing.”

  Her tone left no room for discussion.

  Jake chuckled as he shook his head. “Woman, you keep surprising me. If I were a bit younger…”

  Lucy replied with a loud laugh, tucking her arm into his as she began to walk.

  Brenna held Erik back a second, letting them move to the rear of the group.

  “This…” She let out a noise akin to a growl. “This is awful.”

  “Sometimes bad things happen,” he said, hating the empty words. “But it’s part of what made her who she is, and that’s turned out to be pretty good. The people she’s helped, will help in the future—that’s what counts now.”

  “I understand that. If my parents hadn’t died, I wouldn’t have been taken in by Mother Freyja. Or become a Valkyrie.”

  “Or been cast down among us mere mortals,” Erik murmured.

  She paused, then nodded. “Out of the darkness, light.”

  He wanted to press on, ask her for more of a clarification on that one, but decided to let it go. Instead he held her hand as they followed the group back to the van and to the evening’s presentation.

  Chapter Twenty

  A few days later, Brenna glanced around the crowded social hall. The school assembly and the Legion dinner afterward had been a total success. This time around Jake spoke with Lucy by his side, winning over the crowd with ease. But they hadn’t just gotten a free meal out of it—a coffee can was being passed around, collecting cash donations to help pay for gas and supplies. She had no idea how much was in the tin, but given the number of bills she’d spotted, it was going to be a good evening.

  The local media was there as well, focusing on interviewing Helen and Jake—prompting Brenna and Erik to stay as out of the way as possible. With Erik looking more like a caveman every day with his scruffy beard and hair, it wasn’t hard. Some visitors avoided him, sidestepping away with a polite muttered excuse.

  After the press packed up and left, Brenna made her way to the far corner of the room, searching for a place to rest and gather her thoughts until the event was over and they’d be able to return to the campsite. She sat in one of the chairs giving her a view of the front door, the knot in her belly still twisting and turning.

  Her concerns weren’t about Kara—although the danger was still very real. But now that the entire group knew about their hunter, it was easier to cope.

  No, it was something deeper, closer to her heart.

  She was an impostor, claiming veteran status when she had none. She had no right to be here among these people, their trials and tribulations nothing she could comprehend or share. They accepted her as one of their own without question.

  It grated on her soul, the falsehood aching like an open wound. But it was the cover they’d chosen, so she’d carry the lie and the invisible weight for a bit longer.

  A small boy came up to her, tears streaming down his face. He wore a white dress shirt and jeans, the baggy sleeves slipping over his fingers.

  Brenna instinctively reached out, taking his tiny hands in hers. “What’s wrong?”

  The boy’s trembling lip jutted out. “I lost my mommy.”

  Before she could object, the youngster climbed into her lap and settled himself in her arms. “Can I stay with you?” He scrubbed his eyes with chubby fists. “I’m too tired to keep walking around.”

  “Sure.” Brenna couldn’t believe what she was saying. “You’re safe here with me.”

  He smelled of baby powder and chocolate, the remains of which stuck to the edges of his mouth. She shifted in the chair, unsure what to say or do with her unfamiliar visitor.

  There were no children in Valhalla. They had their own angels and their own sacred place, far away from the noisy boisterous Halls. The women who dealt with them had sad eyes and wept constantly.

  She looked around, hoping someone would come and retrieve the little one.

  No luck.

  “Can you tell me a story?” He stared at her with deep blue eyes, the innocent gaze capturing her heart. “I like it when the good guys win.”

  “Well then, you’re lucky. Those are the only ones I tell.” She settled on familiar ground, her mind going back to Valhalla and the Great Halls. “There was once a woman called Hilda. She was a shield maiden.” She paused. “Do you understand what that means?”

  He shook his head.

  “It means she did more than just cook the meals and clean house. She went to battle beside the men of the village, fighting to keep what they had worked so hard to create. After many years of war, peace fell upon the land, and she decided to put her weapons and armor away and settle down. She married a farmer and lived by the river and had two little boys.” She tapped the button nose. “One looked a bit like you.”

  A tiny smile appeared.

  “Except peace never lasts forever. A dispute broke out between the nearby villag
es, and her husband was called to battle. She wanted to go, but she loved her children too much to leave them, as a mother does. So she worked the fields and took care of her boys, waiting for her man to return. One day she spotted five men coming up the road carrying axes and shields—warriors from the other village. The enemy.”

  His eyes went wide.

  “They could only be coming for two reasons. One, to take all the food stored in her house, getting ready for winter. Or worse, to take her sons away and force them to fight for the other side, the enemy.” She leaned in. “She was not going to let either of those things happen.”

  The little boy shook his head, his lips pressed into a tight line.

  “She ran back to the house, calling for her boys. She told them to run to the next farm and get help, rouse the local troops to come and help defend her farm. Then she opened the chest at the foot of her bed and pulled out her armor and her shield, the sharp sword as well. Because she was as much of a warrior as her husband was and would fight for her home and her family.”

  “What did the boys do?” he asked.

  “They didn’t want to run. They wanted to stay and fight with their mother, but she told them again to go to the next farm and get help. So they ran and ran and ran until they got to their neighbor and told him what was happening. The man put on his armor and sent one of his sons to raise the cry for more men to push the invaders back. Then he got his remaining grown sons, and they all raced back to the farm to fight the enemy warriors. The two boys went along as well, ready to help where they could.”

  He nodded, and his legs swung slightly.

  “They were too late. Even as they arrived, they discovered the men marching away with the supplies and their mother lying on the ground, three of the enemy dead around her. The neighbor and his sons ran off to intercept the last two thieves, leaving them with their mother’s body. They cried—heartbroken, sad and already missing her.”