Not a Hero

by Cherise Sinclair

  Hawk hated the sound of his own raspy voice and never joined the singing. Mako’d figured his vocal cords were damaged from screaming and hadn’t pushed. Even now, Hawk had nightmares from before he’d entered foster care. So, he’d learned the fiddle. When Hawk couldn’t sleep, his music would drift over the lake like a mournful fog.

  After a couple of songs, Caz asked Bull, “Did you find any more help for your place?”

  “Yep, I’m on schedule to open the restaurant section this weekend. I hired another bartender. Julie and Felix will cover the bar. Got a couple of younger college kids for the restaurant. Two cooks from my Anchorage restaurant want to work here to see if they like small town living.”

  “That’s not enough people to staff the roadhouse,” Gabe said.

  “I know. For right now, I’ll only be open Wednesdays through Saturdays. That gives some flexibility with my personnel until I can find more staff.”

  “What will you serve?” Gabe asked. On Sunday, they’d visited the ski resort restaurant to check out Bull’s competition. The food was damn good there.

  “I’ll leave the fancy chef-created meals to McNally’s, and offer the same menu as my other restaurants—food that goes well with beer. Mid-range priced, hearty fare—burgers, steaks, and comfort foods. Somewhere to enjoy a leisurely meal with a lake view. I should get locals who want to just get out and tourists who don’t want to pony up for a five-star restaurant.”

  “Good,” Gabe said. “That’s my kind of place.”

  Caz nodded his approval. “You’ll draw guests from the resort—and their staff, probably.”

  “That’s the hope.”

  “Well, the clinic should be open soon, although—like you—I need more help.” Caz glanced at Gabe. “How about a receptionist? Where are we at?”

  “Hired.” Gabe smiled. “When I stopped to visit Lillian, she sent me to Regina Schroeder. Mid-forties, husband works on the Slope, so he’s gone every two weeks.”

  “She probably gets bored and lonely.” Caz nodded. “Any experience?”

  “Years ago, she was a receptionist in a dental office in Nebraska. Raised a couple kids here. They’re in the Lower 48 and working now.” Gabe paused. “She’s honest, blunter than tactful, practical. Seems unflappable.”

  “Not a bad mix. I’ll take a calm person over a tactful one.” Caz tilted his head. “She’ll work Monday through Friday, nine-to-five?”

  “That’s it. The police department won’t open until eleven when I come in.”

  Bull lifted his eyebrows.

  “I’m targeting the hours of the highest number of tourists—and they don’t get up early. I’ll work eleven to eight on weekdays. Baumer will be on three to three on Friday and Saturday, then eleven to eight on Sunday.” Gabe shrugged. “We’ll readjust as needed. If we have too much demand, I’ll look at hiring seasonal help.”

  Caz passed over the bag of chips. “What kind of calls are you getting?”

  “Shoplifting in the grocery, drunk passed out in the street, fighting on a homestead out in the bush, a domestic call in town”—and damn he hated domestics—“a brown bear near the elementary school, someone tried to break into a post office box, two burglaries. Pretty quiet.”

  “Shit.” Bull stared. “That’s quiet?”

  “Yeah.” Looking back, he’d enjoyed some of the calls. He liked an occasional adrenaline rush. Liked helping out. Liked keeping people safe.

  Dammit, he was getting attached to this damn town.

  He sucked back some beer. “Anybody heard from Hawk?”

  Both his brothers shook their heads. Caz added, “I called the offices. They won’t give out any information. They won’t even take a message, which is taking operational security too far.”

  “Yeah. They’re over the top.” Previously, the admin had passed on messages and a family would be notified of an operative’s death. With the change in owners had come increased security to the point of a total informational blackout.

  “Would anyone there know if he’s all right?” Caz asked.

  “I don’t know people there any longer.” Gabe shook his head. “Only me and another member of my squad survived—and he quit when I did. The admin sure won’t talk with me—not after what I called them.”

  “Hawk texted at Christmas,” Caz said. “Just that he was all right and would be out of touch for a while.”

  “He didn’t answer when we texted back,” Bull added.

  “Probably a burner phone.” Hawk’d probably stomped the phone after sending his text. “Give him longer.”

  Gabe strummed his guitar in the introduction to a Spanish song Caz’d made them learn on his last visit home—“Despacito.”

  When Caz took the lead singing, setting the beat with his drum, Gabe dropped to backup, with Bull joining in on the refrain and fancy guitar fingering.

  As they finished, Caz started laughing.

  “What?” Bull asked.

  “Ah, I was with a woman in Columbia and singing this to her. She…ah…didn’t like some of the lyrics.” Caz grinned.

  Gabe spoke Spanish, too. The song was pretty explicit.

  Bull laughed. “Knowing you, she forgave all.”

  Caz only smiled and said nothing else.

  The sarge hadn’t been an officer—he worked for a living—yet he’d been a gentleman to the core. A man protected women, which included silence about intimate matters. Mako had taught them all his morals…and walloped them when they didn’t learn fast enough.

  Caz openly enjoyed women, many women, but each woman was treated with respect and honesty—and never discussed afterward.

  Setting his drum to one side, Caz asked, “So, viejo, how is your patrol officer? Baumer, right?”

  “Earl Baumer. He’s experienced. Polite enough. I want to actually see how he does when he doesn’t know I’m around.” Gabe tasted the lingering bitterness left from when he’d worked in LA and observed an officer taking a bribe.

  If and when Gabe headed back to the wilderness, Baumer would be first in line for the chief position.

  Eyes narrowed, Gabe gazed at the mountains. Baumer looked all right on paper. Had experience. Had a good ol’ boy disposition that fit well with Alaskans. So why did he evoke an uneasy feeling in Gabe’s gut?

  Strumming softly, he saw a large rectangular light appear across the lake. Dante’s cabins were over there. In fact, that was Julie’s cabin. He could make out her silhouette in the doorway as she came outside, and damned if his body didn’t tighten in acknowledgement. In desire.

  As the door closed and her figure disappeared in the dusk, he missed a chord. In fact, he couldn’t even remember what tune they’d been playing.

  In the gathering twilight, Bull’s grin flashed white. “Guess the naughty lyrics drew her out, hmm?”

  Caz snorted. “The other side of the lake is too far away to hear more than faint music.”

  Good thing, Gabe thought, considering how innocent she was. Although she’d been yielding in his arms. Giving. Responsive.

  He wanted to hear her voice again. Hear her laugh. Take her mouth and pull her against him and…

  When he looked away from her cabin, his brothers were watching him.

  “Pretty little thing, isn’t she?” Bull said. “I like her.”

  Gabe shot him a look that made his brother’s big laugh bust out.

  “Got it.” Bull lifted his arms, palms forward, in a “hands-off” gesture, the way the brothers acknowledged a claimed woman.

  Grinning, Caz duplicated the movement despite the fact that Gabe hadn’t said anything.

  Dammit. With the experience of years of diverting them, Gabe started singing a song they couldn’t resist. “O, America!”

  And…he had to say, it was nice to be home.

  * * *

  Across the lake, Audrey perched on her picnic table. The walls of the cabin had seemed to be closing in on her, so she’d come out to enjoy the quiet evening.

  It was so different
here. In Chicago, the city hummed with noise all night. Was never really dark.

  In Alaska, sunset came so late the sky never turned completely black. Even so, the stars were still huge and brilliant and so close it felt as if she could reach up and touch.

  There was no hum of traffic or people or horns or sirens. The stillness wrapped around her until she could hear each lap of the lake water against the shore. There were singing insects in the shore grasses. The more distant hooting of an owl.

  She blinked as another sound whispered across the lake.

  Music? That was music. Almost too soft to hear, but beautiful. Men’s voices in harmony. Someone had found a pleasant radio station.

  Then the music stopped, and she’d heard Bull’s big booming laugh.

  Wait… The music started again, playing a few seconds and broke off. That wasn’t a radio station, but real people. Her boss and some friends. Singing together. Playing real instruments. Guitars and a drum.

  Wow. The only people she’d ever heard creating music were people in church or teenagers wanting to start a band.

  These guys were just…having fun.

  A deep laugh made her nerves jump to attention. That was Gabe.

  He was over there, too. Sitting and talking. Occasionally singing with the other two. Just having fun.

  She bit her lip against the ache of loneliness, the longing to be over there with people.

  No, more than that. To be with Gabe, to be the one making him laugh. To see him smile and have the sound of his low voice washing over her. Maybe to take his hand and…

  She rolled her eyes.

  You’re a fool, Audrey.

  Chapter Twelve

  One more tie with Chicago had been broken. The movers had emptied Audrey’s apartment.

  After reading Dennison’s email, she’d returned to the cabin and just…sat at the table. A morass of depression sucked at her spirits, and she tried to back away.

  It was just an apartment.

  It was my apartment.

  Decorated the way she wanted.

  No, don’t think that way.

  She’d planned to move someday, anyway.

  Eventually.

  She blew out a breath. It felt as if she had shifting sand under her feet. No home.

  Because although she was living here in the cabin, it wasn’t hers. The place was a charity loan, plain and simple. Somehow, she needed to make enough to pay Dante rent.

  Speaking of making money, she needed to get moving. Her job at the roadhouse started in a few minutes. A Thursday night should be busy. She’d get tips.

  As she gathered her keys and coat, she gave herself her orders for the evening. Tonight, she would be outgoing and sociable. She would.

  While working on the garden this morning, Lillian had given Audrey advice about fitting into a small town. Don’t try to be chatty—like that would ever happen—but participate in conversations. Express interest. Ask questions. Get involved in the groups and events going on in town.

  Audrey sighed. Lillian insisted that dealing with people was as much a skill as playing the piano or hitting a baseball. If an activity didn’t come naturally, of course it needed practice. Being sociable might feel as awkward as learning a new sport.

  No kidding. Practice, practice, practice. She grabbed her keys. And try not to be late for work.

  Moving quickly, Audrey stepped out of her cabin, locked the door, and—

  “Oh shit.”

  A shaggy monstrosity stood beside her car. Munching on a bush.

  Whoa, that was a moose.

  Talk about huge. Its butt and humped shoulders were feet higher than her car roof.

  And it had antlers. Not huge ones. Covered with fuzzy velvet. And still frighteningly deadly looking.

  She backed up, bumped into her door, squeaked. As it looked over, she hastily unlocked the cabin and dove inside.

  When she peeked out again, the beast hadn’t even moved. It was eating.

  And it kept eating.

  “No, no, no. Don’t you realize I have to get to work?” She stuck her head out. “Go away.”

  No reaction.

  She raised her voice. “Go away!”

  Ears flicked. It looked up, showing a flap waving below its chin.

  Still eating.

  It reminded her of the perpetually hungry university students. Stepping out on the porch, she yelled at it. “Go away, you stupid thing. Shoo!”

  Its ears went back.

  Oh, good, she was getting somewhere. It’d heard her. Now it would move.

  Head down, it stared at her, licking its lips.

  Eff-it-all, this was ridiculous. It was just a big deer, right? Stepping out onto the two-step landing, she jumped up and down, waving her arms, and yelling, “Get out of here.”

  The hair on its back went up, and it charged. Right at her!

  She jumped back inside so fast, she tripped and landed on her butt. Frantically, she kicked the door shut. “Oh God, oh God, oh God.”

  The moose hit the doorframe so hard the entire cabin shook, and she heard a cracking sound.

  She screamed then clapped her hands over her mouth. Don’t make it angrier. Her heart pounded like crazy. What if it knocked the door in?

  Get away from the door! She scrambled to her feet and moved to the center of the room, dancing on tiptoes so she could run.

  Run where?

  Nothing hit the door again. Was it still there? Had it left?

  She rushed over to the small window that faced the road.

  Gripping the windowsill, she stared. Her hands shook as she watched the moose move away from her cabin.

  Her knees buckled, and she dropped to the floor. Cold sweat dampened her shoulders, and she was panting like a bellows.

  Oh God, that had been horrible.

  Belatedly, she remembered Gabe had said something about half-a-ton of irritable. No kidding.

  And people came here to see the wildlife?

  They were insane.

  She watched as the animal reached the next cabin. Keep going, please.

  Conscious of the minutes passing, she waited and waited. Then, after easing out the front door, she paused. It was near the last cabin in the line.

  She darted to her car and jumped in.

  Even as she turned the key, the moose swung its big head to look, then took a step toward her.

  Oh, God, it would totally win an encounter with her tiny car. She turned the key and stomped on the gas. As her car spat gravel behind her, she glanced in the rearview mirror.

  Not accepting the challenge, the moose had resumed its stroll down toward the lake.

  Her fingers were still trembling. She pulled in a breath and glared at it in the rear view mirror. “You big bastard.” Her voice came out hoarse.

  A few minutes later, she walked into Bull’s, saw how packed it was, and almost cried in relief. She’d never realized how wonderful a crowd of people could be.

  Both Bull and the new bartender were behind the bar. An old Gordon Lightfoot song was playing. The slow ballad smoothed her jangled nerves, and she pulled her shoulders back. Okay, she could do this.

  After locking up her purse and donning an apron, she swung by the bar to let her boss know she’d arrived.

  Mixing drinks, Bull bantered with a half-dozen people. Not wanting to interrupt, she stood at the cocktail waitress section and leaned in so he could see her.

  After a glance at the clock behind him, his brows drew together, and he didn’t look easy-going at all.

  Her voice came out higher than normal. “I’m sorry I’m late. I… There was a moose.”

  A big man seated at the bar turned to look at her. Gabe. As she met his intent gaze, her pulse performed a weird skipping beat for several disconcerting seconds.

  “Are you okay, Julie?” he asked in his smoky voice.

  “Of course she is, darling.” The brunette beside him patted his hand. “Outsiders frighten easily. The moose was probably a mile away
.”

  Audrey stiffened. “He was right beside my car and wouldn’t move. When I yelled and waved my arms, he charged me.”

  Now everyone was staring at her.

  “Damn, Julie.” Bull had turned to look at her.

  “You deliberately annoyed a moose?” The woman was stunning with huge doe eyes, wavy brown hair, full lips, and a flawless tan. Tight jeans and a clinging royal blue top showcased her slim figure.

  When she cuddled up to Gabe, Audrey wanted to slap her.

  Gabe’s gaze ran over Audrey. “Are you all right, Goldilocks?”

  I could have died. Her heart was still racing. “Fine. Just fine.”

  “I’m surprised the moose didn’t stomp her.” The woman sounded regretful it hadn’t. “Considering how dangerous our wildlife is, Outsiders should be evaluated for common sense before being allowed into Alaska. Of course, we might lost ninety percent of the tourist trade that way.”

  Everyone around the bar laughed.

  Audrey turned away. The woman had implied Audrey was an ignorant idiot.

  Right now, Audrey felt like an idiot—as well as clumsy and ugly.

  “Oh, my. You’re all red.” The woman gave Audrey a sugary smile. “Don’t be that way. I was just joking with you.”

  “Brooke.” Gabe growled in obvious disapproval.

  Brooke tossed back her long hair in a flirtatiously feminine move. “Don’t worry. Julie. The moose is undoubtedly gone by now.”

  Aaand there was no good response to that—not one that wouldn’t be horribly rude. Cocktail waitresses weren’t supposed to be rude. So she channeled Lillian’s English upper-crust manners.

  “Thank you so much for your concern, Brooke. It’s quite heartwarming.” The smile Audrey offered was equally saccharine.

  Brooke’s blink of surprise was satisfying, but the woman hadn’t released Gabe’s arm.

  She heard Bull say something, heard Gabe say her name, but she picked up her tray and turned away.

  Gabe could have the woman.

  Not my problem, not my concern. Trying with all her might not to care, Audrey headed off to take orders.

  At least the surge of anger had wiped out the quaking feeling in the pit of her stomach.