Taming Alaska (So Not Prince Charming Book 1)

by Diana Downey

  Maybe a bear got too close to the camp or a wolf. My stomach lurches. Dammit.

  My feet quicken their pace. None of these scenarios are likely. Fuck, it’s Cyn and maybe Oki.

  In the dark, I spot the yellow eyes following me. Wolves in general will avoid humans, but running from any predator is like an invitation for an animal to take up pursuit.

  When the padding of paws track me, I abruptly stop and turn. They’re hidden in the shadows, and I can feel their eyes on me. I back about a hundred feet away before I swivel around and all out run.

  No more gunshots break the silence. It’s eerily quiet, so a quarry of rocks drops in my gut. It takes me about twenty minutes to jog the two and half miles to the hunting cabins.

  A few lights blink between the trees as I slow, and the seaplane rocks against the dock. Oki wouldn’t have stayed this late, and it wasn’t his plane I heard earlier. I half consider checking the plane first, but I need to find Cyn.

  If that asshole Blake hurt her, I’ll kill him.

  Creeping around the camp, I stalk to the nearest cabin. Arguing comes through the double paned window—both are distinctly male. I glance in and recognize Loki. The other man stands out of view.

  I skulk to the next cabin where Cyn is peering through its window, so my jaw I’d been clenching relaxes. She’s leaning far over to watch inside, so I’m curious what holds her rapt attention.

  It takes all my will power not to laugh while she peers inside where her husband is going at it with Julian. I told her Blake is gay. She’s so intent on what’s unfolding in the cabin she doesn’t hear me. I hold in a chuckle while grabbing her before she crashes to earth. I secure my hand over her mouth, so she can’t scream.

  When she sees it’s me, she slaps my hand away to peek some more through the window.

  “You’re warped,” I whisper into her ear, and women call men the sick, twisted ones.

  She smacks me again, but it doesn’t hurt. She’s okay, and that’s what matters.

  Loki walks into the room where the gay guys are coupling and sneers. “I told you Julian if I caught you like this again, I’d kill someone.”

  Blake doesn’t even stop but keeps pounding Julian’s rear end, like he’s okay with others watching. “Oh, you feel so good,” Blake says, when he really needs to get the hell out of there.

  “What about me?” Cyn whines almost too loud. “I feel good.”

  I clamp my hand of her mouth. “Shhh.”

  When Loki pulls out a hunting knife, I restrain Cyn from screaming while she kicks me. He stabs Blake right in the ass, and my body revolts, and I stumble, holding onto Cyn fighting me. She bites me hard, but I don’t let go.

  “Stop it, Cyn, before you get us both killed.”

  She stills in my arms, and her hot tears warm my hand holding her mouth. Could this get any worse? Yes. We could both die, but I won’t let that happen.

  Blake cries out, and Julian disengages from him, clawing at his shirt to cover himself. She stares in horror as Blake spins around and Loki stabs him in the gut. I shudder. I’ve seen this insanity from Loki before. He was hunting and knifed a fox, not to kill it but to watch it suffer.

  Blake clutches onto his stomach where blood spreads and gushes—a look of shock and terror stunning his expression.

  “We have to help him,” she practically sobs.

  “We can’t unless you want to die.”

  Loki drops the knife and pulls out his gun.

  I can’t see the other man entering the room, but his voice booms and sounds familiar. I hope to God it doesn’t belong to Red because that’s who it sounds like.

  The gun goes off, and the bullet strikes Blake in the chest. Blood splatters everywhere, especially onto Julian’s hair and back. Before he can scream, Loki slaps his face hard. “Keep your mouth shut, or you’re next.”

  A small cry gurgles in Cyn’s throat. Her hand flies up to her lips to stifle the scream. They must’ve heard us this time because Loki moves toward the window. Cyn and I flatten against the cabin’s outside wall. Tears tumble down her cheeks, and I hold my breath. From the corner of my eye, I see Cyn shaking. We need to run.

  They finally leave the window. Cyn peeks back into the room to watch Blake’s body shudder then lie still on the floor.

  Her eyes grow to the size of the moon. “I should help him.”

  “Your gay husband is dead. He’s been stabbed and shot.”

  She shoves me. “My bi-sexual husband may not be dead. Show some respect.”

  I hold back my anger only because they’ll hear us. “We need to leave now.”

  “Clean this mess up, pretty boy,” Red says. I know it’s him. After listening to his voice yell at me for years, it’s imprinted on my brain.

  “We should get the girl,” Loki says.

  “She’s locked in her room,” Red says, his voice shaky. “We can take care of her later. We have to ready our gear for tomorrow, and I thought you said there’d be no killing.”

  Loki, Red, and Julian leave the cabin and head to the farthest one that is lit.

  I nod to Cyn to get moving, and she nods back, pain flickering in her eyes. When I head to the trees, I don’t hear her behind me. I spin around, and she’s going into the cabin where Blake is.

  After running back to her, I go inside where she is kneeling by her husband. His chest rises almost imperceptibly.

  Cyn is sobbing. “Help him.”

  Blake’s hand lifts to grasp her jacket. “Run,” he rasps.

  “I can’t.” Cyn clutches onto him. “Not without you.”

  “I’m sorry,” he says with his last breath, slumping in her arms.

  “We need to go now,” I say, picking her up by the hood of her shell.

  “I can’t leave him,” she cries.

  “He’s gone, and we need to get the hell out of here.”

  She half stumbles beside me, glancing over her shoulder at her dead husband.

  I pull her to me and shake her. “No tears now. I need you, Cyn.”

  She nods, and we hurry from the cabin and stay close to the trees. When we reach the dock, I tell her to wait. And like most women, she pays no attention. I creep out to the seaplane. If we can fly it back, that would be best. I’ve flown Oki’s plane several times, so it’s familiar to me.

  Oki lies crumpled on the front seat. Cyn’s face puckers, like she’s about to cry, but she manages to keep it under wraps.

  I check for Oki’s pulse, only to discover my friend is dead.

  “Jesus,” I mutter. I’ve known him most of my life. I shake off the fear gripping me.

  Cyn and I are fucked. I take a deep breath and a moment to think because there’s no time to mourn Oki’s death.

  The hood of the plane is slightly ajar, so I lift it and see that the spark plug cables are missing. I pull out my knife and cut the fuel line. No sense letting Loki and Red take the plane.

  A small fishing boat is tied to the dock. Its outboard is open too, and it’s missing the spark plugs as well. I slash its fuel line and throw the paddles out into the lake.

  “Let’s go,” I spin Cyn around. Her backpack is loaded up, so I take that from her.

  “I can get that,” she snaps.

  “We have a lot to do before the sun comes up,” I say, my heart pounding, “and you’ll need all your energy.”

  Cyn and I hurry off the dock and down the path. Once we’re out of earshot, I say, “Why do they want you, Cyn?”

  “Who knows?” Tears tumble down her cheeks. “You aren’t going to say, ‘I told you so?’”

  “Who am I to judge?” After Niki fooled me, I hold nothing on Cyn. “Let’s go, Princess.”

  She wrinkles her nose but stays close to me, constantly bumping into me. This is going to be a helluva long journey to Tonakwa.

  Clouds scud across the midnight blue sky, the sickle of the moon peeking in and out. Whatever weather is supposed to move into the area is closing in a day early. I jog at a good clip back to my cam
psite. To my amazement, Cyn keeps up. With that perfect ass, she probably works out religiously. I am carrying her pack though.

  When we arrive at my site, I spot a few wolf prints next to the extinguished fire. They’re watching me and are way too close for predators. Dread works into my muscles, tightening and knotting them.

  “I’ll get the tent,” I say, breaking it down. “Would you get my sleeping bag?” I toss it to her.

  She stuffs it into the pouch while I roll up my tent in record time.

  “Why are we in such a hurry?” she asks.

  “You’re not going to like what I have in mind.” I strap my sleeping bag and tent to my pack, leaving my skis and snowshoes behind. I pick up my rifle to head to the river. The pack is over sixty pounds, but even by myself, I need all of it. We have two now depending on my gear, so it’s probably unwise for me to leave anything, but we’re in a hurry.

  She picks up the snowshoes, straps them to her bag, and catches up to tug on my arm. “Tell me. Why are you leaving your skis and snowshoes?”

  “We don’t have much time, and we need to get to the river long before they catch up to us.”

  A fireball explodes in the sky, lighting it with its orange-red flames and rocking us into the trees.

  “Get down,” I say, sheltering Cyn with my body.

  Parts of the plane scatter into the lake, hurtling like deadly missiles into the water and onto the shore and into my campsite. One plunges into the soft earth beside us. My heart leaps out of my chest.

  “Let’s go,” I say, lifting her up by the arm.

  We jog toward the river, and Cyn stays close to me. “I didn’t think a plane could explode like that by hitting the tank.”

  “Red was in Afghanistan. He has special ammunition.”

  She stops momentarily. “How did you know Red was at the camp? He didn’t show up until after you left?”

  “I heard him.” I’m not ready to tell her about him, but Loki’s much worse, and Julian is not much of a threat.

  She continues running alongside me. “How do you know him?”

  “You don’t want to know. Let’s keep moving.” I don’t know what I’ll do about Red. Shit. This is so fucked up.

  In another twenty minutes, we reach the river, and I jog down along it. She stays with me for the next five miles, even though I don’t let up. Red and Loki won’t be too far behind us, so we won’t have much time, but Loki’s bad leg should slow them down a bit.

  I stop at the log crossing. A split pine tree stretches out across the river to the other side. It’s a fairly narrow crossing but doable. “Let’s get across.”

  Large boulders stick out of the raging river on the opposite side. Those will help shelter us for what I have in mind.

  The water tumbles and rolls over rocks. It’s high for this time of year, so if she falls in, I can’t get her.

  Her hand presses against my back, and my breath stalls. “What if I fall in? I flunked the balance beam in high school.”

  “We don’t have a choice.” I stuff the rifle into the holder on my pack, step onto the log, and start across.

  Cyn places one foot then another onto the log. From behind me, I hear her draw in a breath. With the weight I’m carrying, I can’t help her.

  In a couple minutes, I reach the other side. She’s down on her hands and knees, crawling across. She’s shaking hard while peering at the river raging past her.

  “You’re doing fine.” I slip off my pack and lean it against a nearby tree. I wave her toward me.

  “I’m coming. Just chill.” On all fours, she creeps toward me. “I hope this is the hard part.”

  It’s not. “You need to hurry. Keep coming.” I step onto the log and walk toward her. She’s barely halfway across. “Stand up.”

  She grabs onto my legs, climbing up them to a standing position, her whole body trembling. I try hard not to think about Cyn holding onto me. Her touch is like touching a live wire, thousands of volts shooting into me. I still like her, and that won’t help either one of us.

  “Hold my waist.” I go slowly across, while she clutches onto my hips. “You’re okay.”

  “Barely,” she squeaks out.

  Once we step off the log, I tell her, “Take off your pack and your pants. We have to hurry.”

  Cyn cocks her head. “This seems like an odd time to request that, not that I’d complain after missing out on my honeymoon.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind for later,” I tease. She shouldn’t talk like that. I cannot focus on her when I need to concentrate on keeping us alive. “Do you have shoes to wear in the river?”

  She doesn’t hesitate but pulls out a pair of sneakers. After untying something from the laces and stuffing it into the front zippered pocket of her pack, she sits down to tug off her boots. While I take mine off, she tosses hers onto her pack.

  When she goes for her wool blend socks, I say, “Leave them on.”

  She doesn’t argue but shucks off her pants. Her lacy butt-cheek showing underwear is nothing but nasty hot, showing the full curvature of her ass. It looks even better in the glow of the moon and free of her jeans. I have to stop thinking this way. She did just lose her gay husband.

  “Are those for me?” I let out a slow whistle. “This is going to be a hard trip.” She’ll be one distraction after another.

  From the pinched expression on her face, I don’t know whether she wants to cry or kill me. “They were for my husband. Now what?”

  “Hopefully, we can pull this off.” I toss my pants onto my pack along with my boots. “With you looking like that in your panties, it’ll make it hard for me to protect you.”

  “Don’t look,” she shoots back. “You’re the one who told me to undress.”

  “Are you always going to listen, Princess?” She barely has so far. “That could be interesting.”

  “Not if you keep calling me that. What are we going to do?” she asks, the anger rising in her voice.

  I look away from her. “We need to push that log into the river.”

  Her nose crinkles while staring at the bridge we crossed. “That must weigh a few hundred pounds.”

  “A couple thousand.” I gesture for her to follow me into the river. In my wool socks and boxers, I sink down into the water. The icy cold steals my breath and takes away my manhood, and the rocks dig into my feet. I slip on a few of them. I hold her hand as she edges into the water. The boulders on this side are close to shore and block the fast-moving river, forming an eddy of calm water behind the log bridge and for us to stand in.

  “Oh my God, it’s cold.” She slides in close to me, the goose flesh on her legs prickling mine.

  With the boulders at our back and the log in front of us, I press my back against the rock for leverage and push on the log. Cyn mimics me and presses on the log with both her feet.

  “It’s not budging,” she says, her teeth chattering.

  “Keep working it. If we can do this, we’ll have over sixty miles before they can cross again.”

  She’s shivering, but she’s not complaining. “How far do we have to go?”

  “Over eighty miles to Tonakwa.” A ball-busting trek over rough terrain, and we have our choice of either rocky ledges above the Yukon within firing range or a high altitude, snow-covered pass.

  Disappointment shadows her dark, expressive eyes. “Wow. That’s a long way. Why don’t we return to Fairbanks?”

  “It’s farther and too many lakes and rivers cutting across the trail. That’s why you were flown out here.”

  As the river rushes around the boulders, its roar fills my ears. I push on the log with all my strength. It shifts a half-inch. “On three, we push together. One, two, three.”

  Cyn grunts. The log moves a fraction more. In the distance, the distinct sound of crashing branches through the forest pops in my ears and over the rush of water.

  “On three again. One, two, three.” I give it all I’ve got. The log comes off the edge. “Just a little more.”
We’re screwed if we don’t get this log moving.

  “They’re coming.” Her voice wavers.

  “Now.” We both push, her face straining and pinching, and the log tumbles into the river. It drifts sideways for a few seconds before catching on rocks jutting out of the river. It jams at an angle in the river. No one can cross now without the current taking him under and drowning him.

  “We have to get out.” I lift Cyn with one arm out of the water and scramble up the bank. “Grab your stuff.”

  “I can’t feel my legs,” she says, her body shaking like a fir tree in a blizzard. “Is that bad?”

  “You’ll be fine.” My feet are numb too, but unlike her, I grew up here and I’ve been out in a blinding snowstorm barely clothed on a dare. “Let’s get behind the trees.”

  I scoop up my pack and the clothes I shed earlier while hurrying her into the woods.

  We’ve barely gotten into the cover of the fir trees when a shot is fired. The tree shielding me spits bark into my face.

  “Stay behind the tree,” I call to Cyn, though she’s already has a large fir protecting her.

  She puts on her pants, dry socks, and boots. I tug up my pants and stuff my wet socks into my boots. We only need to get out of firing range, but that won’t be easy. Why would Red get involved with Loki, and now he’s an accomplice to murder?

  “What’s it going to be, Shane?” Red calls. “Just give us the girl, and we’ll let you go on your way. We all know you want that damn bear more than you do her.”

  “How well do you know them?” Cyn chastises me.

  All too well. I peek around the corner. For whatever reason, Loki is keeping his nephew alive and around.

  “I just want the girl, then we’ll be gone,” Red yells over the roar of the river.

  I face Cyn from behind my tree. “When I fire off two shots, run for those bushes and rocks in front of you, and stay down.”

  She looks at me then at the mass of rocks and nods. Using my left hand, I fire my handgun. Cyn doesn’t even wait but runs, barreling through the heavy pine forest. A shot is fired across the river, and she goes down hard.

  Dammit. My gut twists into a hard knot. If she’s dead, I’ll rip Red’s head off his stumpy neck. I need to get to her now without getting killed myself.