Hooked (A Romance on the Edge Novel)

by Tiffinie Helmer

  He wondered when his body would be found and by whom. Would it be spring? Or would an animal find him and have him for a last meal? He unwrapped the Jolly Rancher and popped it in his mouth. Grape. He grimaced. It tasted like cough medicine.

  Chances were good no one would know what became of him. His therapist had encouraged him to return to Alaska, to make peace with his father, and his past. What a laugh.

  His editor might be the one to make some noise but not until his deadline was closer on his next graphic novel. He didn’t have any close friends. For family, his Uncle Roland was hiding from the law, and his cousin Lana was back in college. She’d miss him, but she’d get over it soon. The only thing they had in common besides the commercial fishing operation was that both their fathers were assholes.

  The only people who’d really wonder would be the IRS. What did that say about his life?

  He heard a howl. Then another. And another.

  Wolves.

  God, he prayed they waited until he was dead to feast on his carcass. He laughed, the sound bitter. He’d been born under the sign of the wolf. Conceived under the Northern Lights and born in a blizzard. His Athabascan mother, before the booze had drowned all the love and warmth from her, had strung him tales about the power of the wolf he was supposed to possess.

  Guess that had been a load of shit too.

  He heard the wolves grow closer. He knew what they’d do. They’d circle him. Enclose him in a death ring. That is, if they were brave enough to venture onto Earl Harte’s property. But with a warm meal staked out for them like a buffet, they’d come. They’d surround him, enclosing the circle closer and closer. Yellow beady eyes shining with greed and hunger, gleaming, sharp teeth dripping with saliva, until one of them—the alpha male—would lunge for his throat. At least when that happened, he’d die quickly. He wouldn’t feel them tear into his stomach and feast on his organs, shred the meat off his bones. At least, he hoped.

  They were closer now. He could hear them breathe.

  “Hey, Mr. Harte, nice wheels. Fishing must’ve been good. About time you got…home.” A young, gangly teenage boy, dressed in a fur-rimmed parka and mukluks, skidded to a stop when he saw Aidan. “You’re not Mr. Harte.”

  Aidan had never been so glad to see anyone in his life. “I need help. And we better hurry. I hear wolves.”

  “Wolves?” The boy scowled in confusion and then smiled. “Those aren’t wolves. They’re my sled dogs.” He ventured closer and saw the trap. “Don’t know much about Mr. Harte, do you?”

  “More than I wish I did.” Aidan gestured to the trap. “Help me out here?”

  “I can try.” He knelt down in front of Aidan and looked him in the eyes. “You’re stuck pretty good. Must hurt bad.”

  “You could say that.” Aidan clenched his teeth. He was also freezing to death. He struggled to his knee for added leverage and grabbed the jaws of the trap.

  The boy put his hands next to Aidan’s. “Ready?” he asked.

  Aidan nodded, and as cold as he was, he began to sweat. They pulled, heaved with all their might, but the springs wouldn’t budge. Aidan felt the teeth move but not enough to release his leg.

  “All right, break.” He moaned. Any minute now he was going to cry like a baby. “What’s your name?” Aidan asked, trying to concentrate on anything that could help distract him from the pain. This kid might be the last to see him alive.

  “Fox. My name’s Fox.” Fox tilted his head to the side. “Are you related to Mr. Harte?”

  “Yeah,” Aidan scoffed. “You could say that.”

  “Well…are you?” he asked as though the answer meant something. “Either you are or you aren’t. What is it?”

  “Earl Harte is…was my father.”

  Fox fell back on his haunches. “You’re Mr. Harte’s son? The graphic novelist, Aidan Harte?”

  A fan? Clear out here? “Yeah.” He nodded and wiped sweat off his forehead.

  “Whoa.” Fox stared at him. Really stared. As though he were looking for something. “What do you mean Mr. Harte was your father?” Fox swallowed.

  Could the kid have liked Earl? Nobody had liked Earl.

  “He was ki—died this summer. I’m here to take care of his effects.”

  Fox’s eyes fell to the ground, and he gave a heavy sigh. “I was afraid something like that had happened when he didn’t come back. Seeing the SUV outside his place…well, I thought he’d finally made it home.”

  “Were you and him…close?” Earl hated kids.

  “Kinda. It was a weird relationship.” The kid took a deep breath and seemed to collect himself. “You ready to try again?”

  “What the hell.” They braced themselves and pulled on the jaws of the trap. They heaved and strained until Aidan couldn’t help the holler of pain. “Stop. Shit.” He couldn’t take any more of this. Just kill him and get it over with. It wasn’t like he had a lot to live for anyway.

  “We need help,” Fox said. “I’m strong for my age, but this is bigger than me.” Fox leaped to his feet. “I’ll be right back.” He turned toward the back of the cabin, walking in a zigzagging line to the back door. The kid obviously knew where the booby-traps were placed.

  Fox entered the cabin and returned with a fur-lined hat and blankets. “Here.” He gave the hat to Aidan, who immediately put it on, the flaps big and floppy over his ears, and then Fox carefully wrapped Aidan’s legs with the blanket, adding another one around his shoulders.

  Aidan fished out the keys in his pocket. “Take the SUV.”

  Fox shook his head. “My mom would kill me for driving. Besides, it’s snowing too hard. I’d probably put it in the ditch. My dogs will get to help faster in weather like this. You hang in there. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

  “If I’m…” He didn’t want to say dead, but that’s where he was headed.

  “Don’t worry. I’ll be back before you know it. Think warm.”

  Aidan heard excited barks and yips as Fox turned the corner and was out of sight. The kid was gone, and Aidan was once again alone in the arctic night.

  He tried to disassociate from the pain throbbing in his leg where the metal teeth were clamped around it. It was becoming easier to do as he was losing feeling, either from blood loss or the cutting off of circulation.

  He lay down on the hard, frozen ground. Snow fell so thick he couldn’t see more than a few feet above him. Sticking out his tongue, he caught the flakes and swallowed as they melted. He used to love doing that when he was younger. Snow had always been magical. Blanketing everything in white. Softening the edges of the harsh landscape. Glowing blue and green in the dark winters when the Northern Lights would dance like spirits in the sky above.

  Would Fox be able to make it back in this?

  He no longer felt the cold, either because the kid had wrapped him up or because shock had set in. Snow began to cover him, adding another welcomed layer of insulation. He pulled the hood of the hat over his face and closed his eyes.

  He didn’t know how long he’d stayed like that. Maybe he slept. But suddenly he heard a truck’s brakes squealing as it came to a fast stop, then voices and the sound of footsteps crunching through the snow.

  “Harte!”

  Aidan tried to lift his arm to pull back the hood, but someone beat him to it, dusting off snow that was attempting to camouflage him. He opened his eyes and stared into Lynx Maiski’s hard unforgiving face.

  Shit. He was hoping not to run into his former childhood comrade.

  “I can’t believe it,” Lynx said. “I thought the boy was suffering from exposure when he told me you were here.” Air puffed from his angry mouth. “Didn’t think I ever see you again.”

  “Can we get me out of this trap before you lay into me?”

  Lynx looked him over. “You’re not much competition at the moment.” He lifted a brow and indicated Fox behind him. “If the kid wasn’t so concerned about you, I’d be tempted to leave you.”

  And he’d be justifie
d.

  “If you’re going to leave me, shoot me first.”

  Lynx laughed. “Don’t tempt me. Hand me those clamps, Fox.” He looked at Aidan. “This is going to hurt.”

  “Worse than stepping into the damn thing?”

  “Wait until the blood gets flowing again.” Lynx smiled as though enjoying the picture he painted.

  Aidan rose into a sitting position. Fox kept quiet, glancing worriedly at Aidan every few seconds. The kid actually seemed to care. Aidan studied him. Was he Lynx’s son? There seemed to be a resemblance of sorts.

  Lynx tightened down a C-clamp to the front spring and then attached another to the back. “Fox, you tighten this clap, and I’ll do the other. Harte, get ready to pull your leg out. These traps are ancient. It could spring back at any moment. I’m surprised you even attempted to come here, knowing Earl like you do.”

  “Didn’t Fox tell you? Earl’s dead.”

  Lynx paused then continued twisting the clap. “Couldn’t have happened to a nicer guy. I hope it was painful.”

  A bullet to the chest. “Yeah. He felt pain.”

  “Glad to hear it.”

  The clamp on his leg started to lessen. He reached out to help pull it out of the trap, as he’d lost most of the feeling in it. The pressure decreased but he couldn’t get his leg out. The teeth were caught in the leather of his boots.

  “Come on, Harte. Pull.” Lynx tightened his jaw. “Who knows how old this trap is. It could go off again at any moment. I don’t want the kid hurt.”

  “Don’t worry about me,” Fox said. “I’m quick. Let’s just get him out.”

  The kid was wise. Listen to the kid. Finally, the jaws released enough of their hold and he scraped his leg out of the trap. As soon as he was free, the trap sprung, snapping into the air.

  “Shit,” Lynx said, jumping back. “Your fucking father should have been shot for laying traps like that around here!”

  Aidan grabbed his lower leg as feeling began pumping through his veins like hot oil.

  “Do you think it’s broken?” Lynx asked.

  “Don’t know. Hurts too bad to tell.”

  “Fox, bring that sled over here.”

  Fox positioned a sled next to Aidan and they both helped him into it.

  “Let’s get out of here. This place always gave me the creeps.” Lynx pointed at Fox. “You and I are going to have a talk later on how you know where the booby-traps are hidden.”

  Fox gulped and looked away.

  “Lead us out of here, Fox.” Lynx grabbed the rope tied to the sled and pulled, following Fox’s trail. They reached a crew-cab 4x4 pick-up with the National Wildlife Refuge seal painted on the side.

  Aidan stood with Fox and Lynx’s help, using the door of the truck as a crutch. He climbed in, clamping his mouth shut as he bumped his leg.

  “Working for the State?” Aidan asked when they were under way. The snow came at them so hard there was no visibility.

  “Yep,” Lynx answered, concentrating on keeping the truck on the road. How he could tell where it was, Aidan hadn’t a clue.

  Aidan turned around to Fox, sitting quietly in the backseat studying Aidan. “Thanks, Fox. I owe you my life.”

  “You’re welcome,” he said, giving Aidan a hesitant smile.

  They pulled into the heart of Chatanika. An old gold mining dredge sat like a metal monster to the left, the main tourist attraction. The old lodge cabin squatted across the street on the right. A few outlying cabins dotted, circling the center of town, vague shadows in the rapidly falling snow.

  “We won’t be able to get you to Fairbanks in this weather,” Lynx said, parking the truck and switching off the engine. He turned to Fox. “Run and get Eva. I’ll get him into the lodge.”

  Fox jumped out of the truck and took off.

  Aidan wanted to insist they drive him to Fairbanks. He didn’t want to meet any more people from Chatanika. At least he didn’t recognize anyone by the name of Eva. She must be new. But if he went into the lodge, memories where going to swamp him. “Who’s Eva?”

  “My wife. And, lucky for you, an NP. She’s the best thing we got in medical care out here.” Lynx stepped out of the truck and walked around the front.

  Aidan opened the door and gritted his teeth. Getting into the lodge was going to be the easy part. Seeing the occupants of the lodge was going to hurt.

  “Ready for this?” Lynx asked.

  Aidan didn’t know if he was asking about his physical well-being or the emotional havoc to come. “Not much choice in the matter,” he mumbled.

  Lynx put his arm around Aidan’s back. Aidan swung an arm around his shoulder and they hobbled to the front door of the lodge.

  The door opened and Fiona, Lynx’s mother, stood there, looking the same as Aidan remembered. Round and happy—well, more concerned at the moment—she’d always seemed to make the best out of what life handed her, and it didn’t seem as though that had changed. “Aidan Harte! I thought I’d seen a ghost when you pulled up.” She quickly looked him over. “Always coming to my place injured in one form or another, aren’t you?” She motioned for them to follow her. “Come on. Let’s get you patched up. Can’t wait to hear the story on this escapade.”

  A lump lodged in his throat as he looked around the lodge. The walls of its rough homespun interior were decorated with vintage mining materials and snow shoes, while over-sized furniture sat in intimate corners and soft old leather couches flanked the stone fireplace.

  Fiona was the closest thing to a mother he’d had growing up, since his own mother had checked out most of the time. Fiona had fed him cookies, washed his scraped knees, and scolded him within an inch of his life when he stepped out of line. Damn, he did not want to deal with these old feelings.

  God, he hoped Raven was no longer living here.

  Please, he prayed, let Raven be happily married and living in the Midwest somewhere. Far away from Chatanika.

  “Bring him in here.” Fiona opened the door to one of the guest rooms. The room was decorated simply, with an old quilt on the bed, a wooden rocking chair in the corner, and an old thrift store dresser. Criss-crossed skis hung above the queen size bed, and diamond willow lamps sat on birch nightstands. Nostalgia hit him like a snowplow. The lump in his throat grew.

  Lynx threw him down on the bed, and Aidan landed with a bounce. He held up his leg to keep blood from getting on the spread and gave Lynx a dirty look. He didn’t care that Lynx hated him, but he needed to take better care with Fiona’s things.

  “Lynx,” Fiona scolded. “That’s no way to treat an injured man.” She’d grabbed towels from the bathroom, and tore back the quilt, laying the towels down. “All right, Aidan, you can set your leg down now.” She gave him a once over. “Whatever did you do to yourself?”

  “He got himself caught in one of his father’s bear traps,” Lynx said with a sneer.

  “No.” Fiona gasped. “Oh, you poor thing.”

  Next she was going to be kissing his forehead and smoothing back his hair like she used to do. He wondered if she still had blueberry shortbread cookies in the cookie jar.

  “What is Earl thinking?” Fiona tsked.

  “Apparently, he’s no longer thinking or doing much of anything.” Lynx gave a cat-like grin. “Earl’s dead.”

  Fiona sighed. “Well…”

  There was no, “Isn’t that a shame.” Or, “I’m so sorry for your loss.” Nobody in the room would shed a tear for Earl Harte.

  “I take it you sent for Eva?” Fiona asked Lynx, who nodded. “Good. I’ll go and grab some medicinal beverage. Aidan, I’m sure you could use a drink.”

  Damn right. “Thanks, Fiona. For everything.”

  “You’re welcome. It’s good to see you, son.” She walked over to the bed and smoothed the hair back on his forehead. “You always did have the best manners around.” She left the room. The lump that had been forming in his throat clogged it closed.

  “Suck up,” Lynx said. “I’ll never understand wh
y she doesn’t hate you like the rest us.”

  He had to clear his throat to speak. “She doesn’t blame me for the sins of my father.”

  “Acorn doesn’t fall far from the tree.”

  “Have you ever seen an acorn tree growing in Alaska?” He tightened his jaw. “And I’m not my father.”

  Lynx snorted, but looked away like maybe Aidan had touched a nerve.

  A woman entered, who Aidan thankfully didn’t know. A little thing except for her very pregnant belly, with blond hair cut short and spiked around her pixie face. She reached up and gave Lynx a kiss. Interesting. She also carried a black bag. Must be the nurse practitioner.

  “Harte this is Eva, my wife. Eva, this sorry excuse for a man, is Aidan Harte.”

  “Nice to meet you.” She glanced at Lynx when he snorted again. “Are you going to be helpful?”

  Aidan couldn’t help the chuckle.

  “What?” Lynx demanded.

  “Just interesting to see who wears the pants in your relationship. Really nice to meet you, Eva.” He gave her a full smile.

  She smiled back and set the bag on the side of the bed, next to him. “Let’s take a look at you. Fox said you were caught in a trap?”

  Aidan nodded.

  She opened her bag, yanked on a pair of latex gloves, and pulled out scissors. She started at the hem of his jeans and carefully cut up the sides of one leg and then started on the other. “Your pants aren’t going to survive. Let’s see if we can save the rest of you.” She gave him a twinkling smile. “Lynx bring me over that trash can.” She indicated the one in the corner. Lynx begrudgingly brought it over. Eva stopped and straightened, looking Lynx in the eye. “If you’re going to be like that send someone else in here to help me.” She discarded the ruined jeans in the trash can.

  “Fine.” Lynx made a face, the same one he used to make when they were kids and Fiona would make him do something he didn’t want to.

  “Good.” Eva turned back to Aidan, and threw a crocheted blanket over his lower half, covering batman boxers.