Wild Men of Alaska Collection

by Tiffinie Helmer

  “Yeah, I can see that.” Siri stared at something to the left of Gemma. “Leave my baby alone. Her soul is not yours to take.”

  “I’m not after her soul,” Lucky said. “I’m after her heart.”

  “Her heart is not available to you either.”

  “Mom.”

  “Gemini, he will break your heart and leave you a shell of your former self. I know what I’m talking about. I was fool enough to dream walk once.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  The night shone bright and clear, and Gemma watched Rosie’s taillights as she drove out of the trooper parking lot. Deep in thought, she made her way to her Subaru. Her feet crunched on the snow, sounding super-loud in the silent night. Blue-green celadons with hints of violet reflected in the snow. She was afraid to look up or even glance sideways. Ever since their shared dance, she’d caught the outline of Lucky in her peripheral vision. But when she’d looked directly at him or where she assumed he was, he disappeared again. And now with her mother’s cryptic comment about dream walking, Gemma didn’t know what to think.

  She’d tried to get details out of Siri, but she’d jumped from subject to subject much the way a distracted child on a sugar rush did. There was no getting information out of her until she leveled out, and even then Gemma doubted Siri would fill her in or remember what she’d said.

  The evening had warmed up from the blustery afternoon. Everything was quiet as though old man winter had decided to give up the fight and let spring elbow her way in. Could Siri’s naked dance have wakened spring from her slumber?

  Gemma shook her head, not believing the direction her thoughts had taken. Sleep. She needed sleep.

  She drove the short distance home, white-knuckling it as the roads were icy from the rising temperatures. She fishtailed as she took one of the turns on Riverview Drive.

  Lifting her foot off the gas, and turning the wheel to compensate for the skid, Gemma regained control of the car just as it would have headed into the ditch. Heart pounding, she slowed her speed. Her reflexes were too slow. If she didn’t get some sleep soon, she’d have to stop driving. She heard somewhere that driving drowsy was worse than driving drunk.

  She pulled into her driveway, parked in the garage, and slowly released her grip on the wheel. Home. But she was suddenly apprehensive about entering her own house.

  “I won’t hurt you, Gemma,” Lucky whispered next to her.

  She jumped, slapping her hand over her heart. “Don’t do that. You have got to figure out a way to make some noise.”

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you...or overwhelm.”

  “You were so quiet that I assumed you left. Have you been here the whole time?” She half-turned trying to catch his image in the dim light. There. She had to swallow. A vague outline, but he was there.

  “I never left your side. You seemed to need time to think. By the way, nice driving back there.”

  “I can almost see you. How is this possible?” What was she asking? How was any of this possible? It was freaky to say the least.

  “I don’t know. I’m just grateful for whatever is out there in the Universe that lets me be near you.” His hand captured hers, and held it, linking their fingers together.

  She stared down at her hand. And saw nothing. No tendons, knuckles, or fingers other than her own. She squeezed her fingers, and his hand gave her a squeeze back.

  She didn’t want to have astral sex with him.

  “Gemma, we aren’t going to do anything you don’t want to do.”

  She wanted to have actual sex with him. The hot, sweaty, break-the-bed-frame kind of sex.

  A strangled sound came from him, and his hand suddenly clenched hers.

  Time to get out of the car.

  She released her hold on him and opened the door. Somehow she needed to control her thoughts since he couldn’t seem to stop listening in. A deep breath did nothing to clear her mind or the raging need to be touched by this Dreamweaver who had somehow burrowed his way into her heart.

  She dropped her purse on the table and entered the kitchen. “I need to eat something. Would you like—?” Yeah, well, that was stupid.

  The phone rang, saving her. She glanced at the clock. Almost midnight. Had Siri given Rosie problems? Relief filled her to see it was Tern. “Hey.” She’d yet to get Tern’s impression of the Tarot reading earlier that day. Had that been today? Afterward Tern had seemed more shell-shocked than Gemma and had quickly made her excuses.

  “I know it’s late, but I finally talked to Gage.” There was something in Tern’s voice that Gemma couldn’t quite put her finger on. “The man is going crazy nuts with all the data from the solar storms.”

  Opening the fridge, Gemma stared at the contents. Mayo, mustard, and wrinkled fruit of what kind she wasn’t sure. She really needed to make time for grocery shopping. She grabbed the mayo and mustard, found a jar of pickles and set the items on the counter. She was pretty sure she had a can of tuna fish somewhere. She hadn’t eaten since lunch, and that had been a brownie and a cup of coffee, not enough fuel for dancing with a Dreamweaver and bailing her mother out of jail.

  “According to Gage, you’d better buckle up,” Tern continued. “There’s a weather disturbance that is supposed to move in sometime in the early morning for about eighteen hours and then you’re in for a freaking ride.”

  Gemma shut the cupboard, setting the forgotten can of tuna fish on the counter and listened to Tern rave over the projection of record solar energy directed at the earth’s poles for the next week.

  “Gemma, do you think Lucky can talk to me?” Tern asked when she’d finished her solar report.

  “Uh...I don’t know.”

  “Would you ask him?”

  Gemma swallowed and pushed the makings of her dinner aside, not hungry anymore. “Tern, you don’t sound as though you’re warning me off anymore.” If anything she sounded excited.

  “It’s Lucky. He wouldn’t hurt a fly. There was one time when we were geocaching in the Chugach Mountains, and Lucky refused to kill a spider. He’s very into his Buddhist beliefs.”

  Gemma didn’t miss the change in referring to Lucky in the present tense. “Tern, just how close were you and Lucky?” Had it just been a fling with them or more? Please not more.

  There was a pause and then the truth came at her hard. She didn’t have anyone to blame as she’d asked the question herself. Still the truth was hard to swallow.

  “If Lucky hadn’t been so much of a gambler, with a weakness for other women, and Gage hadn’t come along, I would have happily waited for him.”

  Weakness for other women?

  What the hell did that mean? Could he be playing her?

  “No,” Lucky said. “She didn’t mean it that way. Actually she might have. I do have a love for the ladies. Did. When Tern and I were together it was one of those open kind of relationships. I was free to see other women, and Tern was free to see other men.”

  Gemma held up her hand to get Lucky to stop speaking. She couldn’t comprehend it all.

  “Are you in favor of me seeing him now?” she asked Tern. One minute her soul is at stake and the next she’s being pushed to accept her Dreamweaver?

  This day had been too long already. Sleep. She had to get some sleep.

  “Yes,” Tern said. “I don’t know why or how this is possible but any chance to have Lucky back, no matter the capacity, I’ll take. He was robbed of his life. And...I owe him.”

  “Tell her she doesn’t owe me anything,” Lucky’s voice came from her left this time.

  She jumped. “You have got to stop doing that.” The man needed to stay put and quit floating around.

  “Gemma? What’s going on? Is he there?”

  “Uh...yes. He said you don’t owe him anything.”

  “Of course he would say that. But he’s wrong. Tell him I love him, and whatever he needs from me he has it.”

  Gemma turned toward where she assumed Lucky still was and went to repeat Tern’s
message.

  “I heard,” Lucky said. “Tell her thank you, but she’s wrong. My situation is nobody’s fault but my own, and the one who has already been punished.”

  She repeated what Lucky had said, wanting answers herself.

  “Oh man, I’m going to cry,” Tern said. “Gemma, promise me you’ll give him a chance. In fact, get some sleep. The unconscious mind will be open to the astral plane more so than if you are awake.”

  Right now she didn’t want to be open to the astral plane. Gemma wasn’t sure how much Lucky could hear from Tern’s side of the conversation but didn’t want to share this little gem of information. “You know this goes completely against what you and Siri have been saying from the start.”

  “Forget all that. This is Lucky. You are fated. I’ll go and let you two be together.” And then she was gone. Gemma had a strong feeling the “be together” wasn’t sharing a cup of coffee.

  Gemma put the phone down on the counter, looking around the kitchen feeling exposed.

  “Lucky?”

  “I’m here.” She felt his hand on her cheek trying not to freak out that her eyes were open and she could feel him but not see him or his outline in the harsh lighting of the kitchen.

  She took a step back, part of her weeping inside at the loss of his touch falling away.

  “Talk to me. Tell me what you’re feeling.”

  Couldn’t he read her thoughts?

  “They’re coming too fast and jumbled for me to make sense of them. Gemma—”

  He couldn’t make sense of them? Try having them. “I think it’s best if you go now. I need some time. This is...too much. I can’t make sense of anything.”

  “You’re thinking too hard.”

  “Of course I’m thinking too hard. How do I not? I’m falling in love with a dead man, my mother is off her meds, and I’m beginning to think I need to get on some.” She pressed her palms against her temples where her head pounded. She hadn’t eaten and now couldn’t as her stomach bubbled with anxiety.

  “You’re falling in love with me?”

  “That’s what you picked out from all of that?” The question coming out a bit hysterical. “Not the being dead part, my mother nuttier than a granola bar and me following in her footsteps? None of that concerns you at all?”

  “Are we about to have our first fight?”

  “Holy balls! You would think dying would have gained you some insight.”

  “I really like how your skin flushes when you’re angry,” his voice rumbled with arousal.

  “Are you freaking kidding me?”

  “No. Your skin does that same thing when I—”

  “Okay, enough. Let me tell you something, yelling in my kitchen, by all accounts appearing to be alone, to a spirit who is turned on by it is not an attraction for me.” She suddenly felt Lucky behind her, his hands massaging her shoulders.

  “Close your eyes. I can make you forget everyone and everything.” His voice purred into her ear, making her want to give in. For a moment she did, closing her eyes and leaning into his body, her blood quickening at his obvious arousal. She wanted to turn and bury her head in his shoulder, grip his backside in her hands and pull him to her. Strip him of his clothes—did he even wear clothes?—at least, strip hers and then ride him until she thought of nothing.

  He gave a painful groan, his hands leaving her shoulders to grab her hips, holding her tight against him. “Yesss,” he hissed.

  All it would take was the relaxation of her body against his. One thought and she knew he’d have her naked and writhing on her kitchen floor. Did she want that?

  “God, please say yes, Gemma.” His lips trailed down her neck, his teeth grazing her shoulder.

  “I can’t.” The words were torn from her. She so badly wanted to lose herself in him. “Lucky, I can’t make a decision like this when I’m this sleep deprived.”

  She felt his need to push and was surprised when he took a slight step away from her. His hands shook where they still held her hips, but he was no longer pressed against her. Part of her breathed easier, but the other part mourned the promise of his body next to hers.

  “Rest, Gemma,” he said. Though she clearly heard the implied, “You’ll need it for next time.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Gemma tossed and punched her pillow. She glared at the digital clock on her bedside table as the minute turned from 1:59 to 2:00 am. How could she not sleep? She hadn’t slept more than a few fitful hours in weeks. What the hell? She was alone. Utterly and completely alone. She’d tried a hot shower, needing it after the jail stopover.

  Her mind ran circles around her problems, never settling on a course of viable action. Maybe she should talk to someone? Who? A therapist? Right. What she needed was a freaking sleeping pill.

  And Siri had given her some.

  Gemma jumped out of bed and raced into the kitchen. Where had she put them? Her purse produced nothing, but the pocket of her coat proved helpful. There was the small plastic baggie with a dozen or so small white sleeping pills.

  Had Siri said how many to take? One, two, four? Obviously not four. Geez. Maybe not even two. She could Google the information if the pills had a name on them. But there was only a number etched into the face of the pills. Should she call Siri and ask? No, it was way too late to call anyone. Besides, she shouldn’t even be entertaining the idea of taking medication her mother recommended.

  Obviously, she was way past doing anything reasonable.

  She needed sleep, and she was going to get some even if it killed her. Okay, probably not the best thought to have. She’d take one pill. If that didn’t work within a reasonable time frame she’d take another. An hour should be good.

  Fishing one of the little white pills out of the baggie, Gemma swallowed it whole without water. She stood there waiting, for what she didn’t have a clue. A magical stirring of melatonin that promised sweet oblivion?

  Clutching the baggie in her hand, she filled a glass of water and headed back to bed. Setting down the glass with the bag of pills next to the bed, she came to a cold stop. What was she doing? Sleeping pills cozying up to a glass of water didn’t give off a happy outcome for waking up in the morning. If ever.

  It was so hard making decisions—right or wrong—when she wasn’t in her right mind. The pills had to go, but suddenly the effects of whatever she’d taken took form. Her legs were heavy, reflexes sluggish. What had she taken? Definitely needed to know that before she’d taken them. Her eyes refused to focus. Things in the room seemed to move on their own or was she swaying? Everything was too much effort, just gathering the pills and hiding them away in her night table—far away from the glass of water—took all the energy Gemma had left.

  A few tries and she was able to swing back the covers and crawl under them. Her eyelids locked shut, and her breathing slowed. A sense of peace came over her, and she sighed. Finally, she’d get the rest she’d been depriving herself.

  Then suddenly it felt like she’d stepped off the planet. Tripped into nothingness.

  One second she was flat on her back in bed, the next transported as though she were on the starship Enterprise and Scotty had just beamed her up.

  Deeper than sleep. Deeper than a coma. She was gone.

  She opened her eyes to find herself not on her bed. Not even in her bedroom. By the warmth, and lush grass under where she lay, she wasn’t even in Alaska. The only snow and ice in sight was high atop amethyst mountains in the distance.

  Her breath caught on the beauty and tranquility of wherever she was. Colors more vibrant than any palette painted wildflowers that bobbed and swayed in the sweet-scented breeze. She couldn’t quite comprehend the snow-topped majestic mountains sheltering the surrounding meadow. A blue ribbon of liquid sapphires sparkled in the sun. If this was a dream it was the most visual and sensual one she’d ever had. Too real. She struggled to her feet, pinching herself even though she had no desire to wake up and leave.

  Where was she?


  “Limbo. And how the hell did you get here?”

  Slowly she turned. There was Lucky in full Technicolor. A tight-fitting t-shirt with some climbing gear company’s symbol scrawled across the chest showed off heavy, defined muscles in his torso and arms. He was lean and hard, his skin smooth and golden, his eyes the softest brown. Cargo shorts and hiking boots completed his outfit. Is this how he was dressed when he visited her? The man was a walking advertisement for REI.

  “Gemma, what did you do?” A scowl darkened his face.

  “Took a sleeping pill,” she admitted, her eyes devouring the sight of him.

  There was a pause. “Sleeping pill or pills?”

  “My mom gave them to me. I just took one and ended up here.” She looked around again. “Got any ideas how that happened?”

  He pursed his lips in thought, the scowl furrowing deep lines in his forehead.

  “What is it? You know, don’t you?”

  “I have a theory.”

  “I’m not dead, too, am I?”

  “No. You and I are connected. Destined.” He rushed on when she went to interrupt. “I know you don’t like that word, but it’s the only explanation for why, after I passed away, that I was drawn to you. I’m thinking taking a sleeping pill allowed your spirit to astral project to where it wants to be. To me.”

  Astral project?

  Hadn’t she been warned about that? What had Siri said? Gemma had the sneaky suspicion she was in trouble.

  “What are you thinking?” Lucky asked, looking as though he wanted to reach out and touch her but was afraid to move.

  “You can’t read my thoughts?”

  “You’re doing that mile a minute thing, but your expression is freaking me out.”

  “Well, I’m a little freaked.”

  “That explains it then.” He stuffed his hands in the front pockets of his cargo shorts. She followed the movement, and his eyes widened. “Can you see me?”

  “Yes.” Her throat thickened with emotion. This was so much more real, being with him here, seeing him. She reached out to touch him, and he sucked in his breath.