by Diana Downey
“That may make it worse,” Oki says. “My gun’s on me.” He pats his jacketed chest.
“One last chance, Princess,” I say while standing closer to her.
She waves me off, but trepidation burrows into her brow. A sinking feeling tunnels into my gut, but it’s not a good idea to stick around. Staying would only arouse suspicions, and maybe I’m wrong, though I doubt it. I nod, plod off the dock, shoulder my pack, and hike toward my campsite, knowing I’ll have to return.
It’s a two-mile hike to the campsite where I’ll stay for a few days to look for bear tracks and check on Cyn. The thick forest flanks me on one side while the lake laps at the reedy edge on the other. A plane flies overhead, the roar of its engine loud and close. I don’t see it but assume it’s Oki, and some of the tension knotting my shoulders drains away.
After an hour, I’ve setup camp, put the food up high enough from scavengers, and staked the small tent. I shouldn’t think about Cyn, but I can’t help it. After paying for her gear, Blake obviously wants her to be comfortable.
With my Glock still holstered, I cross carry the rifle and leave the rest of my gear behind. Pine needles litter the forest floor, their scent spicing the crisp air. It’s calm and peaceful, the perfect ending to my rocky relationship with Niki. To a new beginning free of women, except for my problem child, Cyn. Damn her. She should’ve gone home.
Raking my hair with my fingers, I hike through the firs, quiet and still.
The bear’s hide will look good in my loft if I still own my home when I return to Austin. I wonder how much of me the IRS will take.
Passing through the copse of trees, silent as a bobcat, I veer off to the river in search of any signs of my prey. Before long I come across wolf tracks. The long loping strides are set deep into the soft, wet earth, so it’s doubtful my bear is close by.
Within a half hour, I reach the river. The water runs high and fast, churning and upheaving in unruly waves. A few more wolf prints sink into the earth along the banks. A couple turkey vultures stab at an old caribou carcass fifty feet downriver from me. It must be the wolf pack kill.
Another fifty feet from the remains, dark movement flashes in and out of the tree shadows. I pull out my binoculars. A lone black wolf lopes along the water’s edge. When I pull out my rifle and peer through the Leupold scope, the wolf comes to the water to drink.
“Bang,” I say under my breath. As if it can hear me, the wolf disappears into the woods, its dark winter coat concealing the predator in the trees.
I walk toward the carcass, the pungent stench of death tainting the air. Flies darken the tan and white hide, most of which has been gnawed down to the bone. Wolf scat forms small mounds on the ground, all a few days old.
I come upon bear scat pitted by berries and root tubers. The large, long clawed prints embed into the mud close by. I search the area for more prints and finally find the front paw that belongs to my bear. The split is apparent between the first and second toes where my father knifed the bear after it gutted my younger brother’s belly wide open. Though it’s been seven years, the painful loss is still fresh in my mind.
Skyler was thirteen. He was only four when Mom left, and I was nine.
A cool gust sweeps through the clearing. With the wind picking up, the storm will arrive sooner. The scruff on my face itches, so I rub my chin.
As I head back to camp, night drops quickly onto the interior, draping the forest in its ebony cloak.
I pull out the ring. It’s really the only money I have left, other than what I sunk into another business, until the IRS finds it. I pocket the ring and journey back to camp.
After gathering firewood for the rock pit built years ago, I start a fire. I warm my hands and heat up one of the freeze-dried meal packs—some sort of lamb stew. The fire crackles and pops, spitting embers skyward.
As I warm my hands in the fire, the distinct sound of gunfire shatters the tranquility of the woods and a chorus of howls lift their voices to the night. I jump to my feet, my heart plummeting into a black pool of despair, because the sound came from the direction of the cabins.
Chapter Eleven
Cyn
My gaze follows Shane trekking along the lake’s edge away from us. The sun is bright, and even though it’s only in the high thirties, it warms my back.
How can Shane stand to be by himself for weeks out in the middle of nowhere? It’s cold, and he’s wearing a t-shirt and good Carhartt hunting pants, and they look good on him.
I have on my magenta Patagonia pullover, matching gloves, and long underwear under my jeans, which make me look fat.
Julian grabs a bag. He seems nice and rather delicate. Shane said he was at my wedding, so he must’ve been the waiter I saw talking to Blake.
Julian’s pretty—lemon-blond hair, his shirt unbuttoned almost to his navel to show his boyish, hairless chest. What is he here for? Maybe he does mani-pedis and will touchup my dark roots. When he glances up at me with disquieting pale blue eyes, a shiver darts across my shoulders. I know him and not from the wedding. It was before that.
Shane has now disappeared into the woods, but I’ll be fine. I love Blake, and he loves me.
“Should have good fishing and great wildlife viewing,” Oki says, startling me. “The bears are still foraging for food before hibernating. A wolf pack has marked much of this area as their territory, so you may catch a glimpse of them.”
“I’ve never seen a wolf…except maybe you, Blake.” I kiss him, flicking my tongue into his receptive mouth. Just a hint of stubble darkens his well-defined jaw. A soft plaid shirt loosely hangs on that body of steel. Yum.
Blake play-growls into my ear while cradling me in his arms. “I haven’t either. I’m happy that you’re enjoying our honeymoon.”
A man suddenly appears behind Blake, scaring the hell out of me. He has red hair, tall and powerfully built, like an oil tanker. Jeans snugly hug his tree trunk waist. He’s even bigger than Shane.
Who the hell is he? Staring up at him, I swallow, my mouth going suddenly dry, and tighten my grip on Blake.
A toothpick rolls around in Loki’s mouth. “Let me take your bag, Misses.”
I hold onto my backpack and hand Loki the largest bag.
The big man and Loki help Blake lug our bags to our cabin that overlooks the lake on one side and the waterfall on the other. It’s picture perfect, other than the monster of a man.
“This is Red,” Blake says, nodding at the biggest man, “and Julian is our outfitter. From what he tells me, Loki is the best bear hunting guide in all of Alaska.” He pats the older man on the back.
How does Blake know Julian so well? They seemed rather chatty at the wedding, and he’s an outfitter and a waiter?
A small white scar cuts across Loki’s left cheek. A vein of terror seizes my throat, and I wish Shane hadn’t left. The scar could be from a cat or anything and not necessarily from me on the day Mom and I were abducted.
Julian gives me a wave before strolling toward the far cabin. His strut looks vaguely familiar and that hair and those eyes. Blake walks toward a cabin with our bags while the sun sinks behind the white-capped mountains, shadowing the landscape.
Everything’s fine. Shane overreacted, and my nerves are responding to him.
Oki waits for Blake to return, probably waiting on his pay, while I follow Red to the cabin. Shane said the cabins were rustic, but it’s nicely appointed with a king-sized bed covered by a thick down quilt. Blake wouldn’t go to that much trouble if he didn’t love me.
Red sets a couple bags down into the room. Do I tip him? He leaves before I even thank him, grunting his goodbye. Through the window that overlooks the lake, I briefly watch Red and Blake speak to Oki. Blake’s hands move as he speaks. I put on my headphones to unpack, listening to Bruno Mars and dancing to the rhythm.
After I shake my butt for a few minutes, Blake taps on my shoulder to get my attention, startling me. “Want to take a walk before it gets too dark?”
&
nbsp; My hands run up his awesome, sculpted pecs. The loose denim hugs that tight butt of his and the bulge in his pants.
“I’d love to,” I say, letting out a slow breath.
This has turned out more fun than I originally anticipated. We walk outside and around the edge of the waterfall spilling into the small inlet. Fish swim in dense schools and move against the current. Blake holds my hand, a warm smile curling his seductive lips.
“It’s magnificent,” I say, just like my perfect husband.
“I have lots of surprises for you, and I’m going to fuck my beautiful wife.”
He keeps coming up with more, but I like the sound of the latter. “All right.” Hopefully, the surprise includes an orgasm—just one. That’s all I ask for…to start with.
“Hungry?” he asks. That thrilling edge to his voice seeps into my core.
“Getting there.” Though I could suck on him. My sex tightens with anticipation.
“I’ll let you finish unpacking while I rustle up dinner.” He leans down, his body flattens mine against a tree, and his mouth descends onto my awaiting lips. His hand reaches behind my head while he pushes his knee between my thighs, grinding his hard cock against my pelvis.
My fingers tiptoe up his solid chest. “Dinner can wait.”
His powerful body molds to mine, and I know he’ll take care of me. “This is the best getaway. We’ll have romantic nights in our cabin, spending the day on the lake or the river fishing.”
“We will.” He leads me to the cabin where I continue to unpack and he puts his clothes into the dresser drawers.
I stand in the closet, hanging a jacket. A pair of sneakers sticking out from under a stack of old magazines catches my eyes. The previous renter must’ve left them here.
Blake grabs my waist and smooches my cheek. “Ready for dinner?”
The report of gunfire causes me to jump, but Blake doesn’t flinch. “Red saw a couple wolves snooping around the cabins. He took a shot at them earlier.”
Poor wolves. “He’s not going to kill them, is he?”
“No. Just scare them off. I wouldn’t want them to eat my baby.” His hands drift down into my jeans, setting my sex on fire.
When a knock comes at the door, Blake whisks me off my feet and pulls his hand out of my jeans. “Dinner is served,” he says.
Dinner can wait.
Julian rolls in a cart with covered dishes and yay, a bottle of champagne. I clap my hands together. When I lift off the cover, the aroma of freshly grilled salmon, spiced with lemon and dill, greets my nose.
After we thank him, Blake pulls me onto the bed and feeds me an asparagus. Fresh fruit and cream fill a bowl for us to share. I like being fed. It’s so sexy.
Each bite is scrumptious, and Blake licks the lemon butter off my lips. The taste of champagne lingers on his luscious lips. When our meal is almost finished, he stretches me out on the bed, and I think this is it.
His lips trail down my throat and onto my chest. The heat rises off our bodies, sizzling the quilt rumpling between us. His chest presses against mine, the fluttering of his heart beating against my breasts.
Just as the lump spreads in his jeans, another knock sounds at the door. So unfair. “Go away.”
Blake lets out a sigh. “Not good timing. Come in,” he says.
Julian opens the door. “We need your input for tomorrow.”
Blake shakes his head. “Sorry. I’ll be right back.” He pecks me on the lips, swings his long legs off the bed, and stands. “Stay right there, baby. I want to make you happy.”
“I won’t move.” I roll onto my stomach and kick my legs up.
As soon as he’s out the door, I get up to finish hanging my clothes. Images of him naked ramp me up and soak my panties.
The sneakers snag my attention again and stop me from thinking about him. Why would someone leave them behind?
Small flowers are stamped onto the Keds, spawning an old memory that drifts into my thoughts.
I pick one of them up and turn it over in my hand. Mom was wearing a pair like these the day we were taken, so the sight of them slams into my chest, stealing my breath.
They’re her size—seven and a half. They can’t be hers. We were taken in New Mexico, and her barefoot, headless body was found there. I swallow the tears clogging my throat. I keep telling myself that she was never here, but her shoes could be. Why leave them in the cabin for me to find?
The shoelaces are stuffed underneath the tongue. I dig them out and stumble backward. Tied at the base of a shoelace is a diamond solitaire—a rare pink diamond.
With my heart skittering in my chest, I read the inscription on the inside of the platinum band. It reads, “You own my heart.”
I fall onto the bed. The ring is hers. Why are her things here? Why would her killers taunt me? They’re here, and so am I…and so is Blake. I have to warn him.
Oh God.
I close my eyes and breathe. I wipe the tears from my eyes, smudging my mascara. I cannot cry right now. At this moment, I cannot grieve for her. I have to think, and I have to act.
Could Blake be part of my kidnapping five years ago? He would’ve been twenty-one then. Would he really hurt me? A sob escapes my lips. It’s like swallowing shards of glass in my suddenly parched throat. No, he couldn’t have. What would be his motive? His family has money.
Loki—the scar. I scratched the man who took us. He must be in his late forties or early fifties, and the other had striking blue eyes and a few strands of yellow hair that poked out from his mask.
Can I trust Blake? He brought me here, and he knows Julian.
I have to leave now, and I have to find Shane. I trust him, and he said he wasn’t far. He’ll badger me about being right so hard my skin will bleed.
I rush to the door, but it’s locked from the outside. Did Blake lock it?
Don’t panic, Cyn. Think. My backpack hasn’t been unpacked. Just my clothes that I expected to wear to the beach. I retie the ring onto the sneaker and jam both of them into the front pocket of my backpack then stuff another pair of jeans, toiletries, and panties into my pack. Food, water, and other essentials are still in there. I don my waterproof boots, down jacket, and shell that Shane made me buy. I owe him now.
How far away are we from Fairbanks? It could take days to get back there.
Another heaving sob works its way into my throat, pinching my face. My poor Mom. I loved her so much and these men probably killed her.
I check the side window that doesn’t face the other cabins. Morons. It isn’t locked. I slide it open to slip out.
The seaplane rests against the dock, rocking gently in the water. Why is it still here? Shane knows how to fly, so we could take it.
In the other two cabins, the lights are on. Shane is north of us, and I can hike along the lake. What if I become lost in the woods in the dark? And the wolves?
Blake. How could I not see this and Shane did? Blake’s charming, confident, and masculine. I’m not thinking clearly. Blake isn’t the problem.
I should figure out where everyone is, so I don’t run into them while I sneak away. But I can’t just leave Blake here. What if they were planning on kidnapping us both?
The air has turned sharply colder, so I zip up my down jacket and the outer shell I bought. I creep toward the cabin closest to me. The distant howl of a wolf makes the hairs on the back of my neck shoot straight up. I hear other animal noises, like pigs rooting in the ground.
The closer I get to the nearest cabin the louder the grunting and groaning become. I tiptoe to the window to peek inside, my heart jackhammering in my chest so hard it hurts. Julian is bent over the foot of the bed while Blake thrusts into his anus, completely unprotected. His hard cock slides in and out of Julian’s tight ass.
They’re lovers? For how long? And what about me? Oh hell, Shane is right. How can I face him? I won’t tell him.
I remember how Julian touched Blake at my wedding—way too friendly. Did Blake and he plan this k
idnapping together?
I can’t stop staring at the two men in the heat of passion. Julian twists his head for Blake to kiss him deeply. Julian cries out. They’re both completely naked, and they’re both in amazing shape—bodies carved by long hours of working out. Blake’s ass is too perfect. I should’ve known. How could he do this to me?
Shane will have a good laugh at me when I catch up to him. No he won’t. He won’t ever find out.
Julian strokes his own penis while Blake jams his into Julian’s ass. They’re both panting and sweating. That should be me writhing in pleasure while making love.
How come Blake never made me scream like that? His hand helps Julian stroke his stick. Julian squeezes his eyes shut, moaning, his hand reaching behind him to massage Blake’s buttocks.
Jealousy needles me. This is my honeymoon, and he’s satisfying some man and not me.
I cock my head to get a better look. I’ve never seen anything like this. The further I lean over the more off balance I become. My arms splay out to catch my fall. They’ll hear me, so I’m screwed.
Before my hands touch the dirt, arms catch me and a hand clamps tightly over my mouth.
Chapter Twelve
Shane
Shit. I kick dirt onto the fire to snuff it out, snatch my rifle, and jog toward the sounds of the shot. Another one shortly follows and every nerve in my body fires. Two shots. One for Cyn—I swallow hard—and one for Oki? But I thought I heard his plane. I don’t think I can handle seeing either of them dead, especially Cyn. Her mother’s limp body enters my mind, needling my heart.
Dammit. I should’ve never left Cyn with Loki.
With my handgun holstered and a hunting knife in the hilt of my belt, I jog toward the cabins. I slosh through the marshy trail butted up against the lake. My flashlight is in the light backpack I carry on my shoulders, but I don’t take the time to get it out and light the trail.
I curse myself for leaving Cyn alone, though I could be overreacting, and it’s not like she’d listen to me. Perhaps her guides, Blake, and she were target shooting, but it’s dark and Loki has been convicted for armed robbery and drugs.