Wild Men of Alaska Collection

by Tiffinie Helmer

  He started a fire—another fire—the one in his blood had flamed again being in the same room with her, and added more logs.

  “The room vill varm soon,” he said, standing and facing her. This woman scared the hell out of him. “Is there anything else you need?”

  There was a pause as she gave him an incredulous look. “Yeah, you could untie me.”

  Well, he’d asked. “I am leaving for a few hours. The fire vill keep you varm. Might be good to get some rest. You’ve...exerted yourself much today.”

  “Where are you going?” She frowned.

  “I need to find your campsite.”

  “It’s dark out there.”

  “Dah, and cold too.”

  “So, you’re just going to leave me here. Tied up?”

  “Dah.”

  “I can go with you.”

  “I don’t trust you not to kill me. You’ll stay here vhere I know you’ll be vhen I return.”

  “Sergei, you can’t leave me tied up like this.” She struggled in her bonds, and the quilt slipped, revealing a plump breast that tempted him to either stay and entertain himself with her or untie her and take her with him. Both decisions could be his last. He walked to the bed and covered her up, tucking the quilt in around her, and checking the knots.

  She wasn’t going anywhere.

  “Don’t hurt yourself vhile I’m gone. Rest.” He smoothed hair out of her eyes and turned to leave.

  “Sergei...”

  He turned at the door.

  He could see the worry in her eyes, but was it for him or herself? Most likely herself.

  “Don’t get yourself killed,” she said through clenched teeth.

  “I thought you wanted me dead?”

  “I do, but by my hand, not by some wild animal or freak of nature.”

  “You are not in the best position to still be threatening me.”

  She narrowed her eyes.

  “Tempt me to stay,” he threw out before he could bite it back. What the hell. He’d never have her thinking different about him if he didn’t bare all that he felt about her. It wasn’t like she could hate him more.

  “There is nothing at the campsite except my supplies hidden within a backpack. You’ll never find it in the dark.”

  “How about giving me the coordinates?”

  “How about I don’t?”

  His lips twitched. He loved sparring with this woman. Whether physically or verbally, she was a challenge. And he was always up for a challenge. There was another part of him standing at attention too. “Be back soon, Katja. I hope you vill think on vhat ve have done and spoken of vhile I’m avay.”

  Then he walked out the door before he was tempted to stay and forget the world in her bewitching body.

  A smile slid over his face when she hollered his name with insults about his mother and his ability to think straight. He hurried into his gear, knowing she wouldn’t do as he’d asked and rest, though she’d need magical powers to free herself of the bonds he’d tied her with.

  Just as he would never be free of the bonds tying his heart to hers.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  How dare he leave her here like this? Trussed up and so turned on her vision blurred.

  Kate listened hard, past the snapping of the fire he’d started for her—wasn’t that fucking thoughtful—and the pulsing of her molten blood rushing through her veins. There was a silence within the lodge that told her she was completely alone. What if she needed to use the bathroom or the lodge caught fire? Or the phone rang? Okay, the last one was a stretch. But, seriously, what if Sergei had decided to leave and not come back?

  She kicked off the blanket, and the cold air spanked her bare flesh. If she didn’t get free of the ropes, she was now in for an uncomfortable night even with the fire burning cheerfully. At least the chillier air helped cool her over-heated sensibilities.

  She craned her neck to look at the headboard and the canopy above her. The whole bed was made of logs, though the canopy rails were quite a bit thinner than the posts. The posts might as well have been tree trunks rooted into the ground. There was no sway, no give in the ropes no matter how hard she strained against them.

  She took a moment to think.

  Looking around the room she scrutinized what she could reach—nothing—or use to help free herself.

  Again, nothing.

  Sergei must feel pretty secure that she wasn’t going anywhere. She snarled through her teeth in aggravation. She couldn’t still be here tied up like this when he returned. What would he do to her then?

  Never had she been at the mercy of a man like this. Yes, she’d been captured, tortured, but this was different. This was Sergei, and he had always been able to get to her on a deeper level than anyone she’d ever met.

  There was something not right in that the one man she wanted to hate, needed to kill, understood her. Not the person she showed the world, or even the person she pretended to herself to be. He saw her. Flaws and all.

  That’s it. If she had to use the ropes to saw through her wrist, she was getting out of these bonds. She struggled against the ropes. If she could just gain a little extra room...but Sergei had stretched her arms far enough apart that there was no possible way for her to do that.

  Maybe she could swing her legs up and bust the rungs? It wasn’t like she had anything else to concentrate on. Other than what Sergei had told her about Perry and that was certainly something she didn’t want to revisit right now. She was too raw. Her feelings churned under the surface. Any provocation would stir them up into tidal waves she couldn’t surf at the moment.

  Swinging her legs up, she used the ropes as leverage and the strength of her abs in a way a gymnast would on parallel bars, and kicked at the rails above her.

  Shit, that hurt.

  Her feet stung with the impact of ramming them into the log rail. She kept at it, though, encouraged by the sound of a crack. A few more non-enjoyable head-banging incidents against the headboard, and she splintered the top rung above her.

  It tumbled down on top of her, nailing her upper torso.

  Oh, yeah, that would leave a bruise.

  She wished she could curl into a ball as pain radiated through her upper body. Out of breath and sweating, she took a few minutes to lie there, compartmentalizing the impact before bucking her body and dislodging the wood laying across her ribs. It crashed onto the floor and echoed throughout the lodge. Good thing Sergei wasn’t here, because the racket would have brought him running.

  One down. The side rungs would be a bitch as she had to kick out at an angle. Grunting with the exertion, she lashed out to the right. She didn’t give up as her muscles ached and burned. Finally, she knocked it loose. Luckily this one didn’t land on her, but it took out the bedside lamp—killing it—and shredding the pile of books Sergei had stacked, littering them across the floor, and denting the wall before coming to a final stop.

  The momentum slid the rope up the post a few inches, and she was able to get her knees under her. She inched her body back toward the headboard, nudging the pillows out of her way. The action stirred up Sergei’s scent, and she found herself suddenly sexually frustrated all over again.

  Oh, that man was going to pay. And he would pay hard.

  With thoughts of tying him up and torturing him, Kate slowly shuffled the ropes up the thick log posts, and struggled to her feet. The logs towered a good five feet above her, but if she could get enough of the rope to shimmy up the posts, she’d be able to toss them off. Thank goodness he hadn’t tied the rope tighter around them, just made sure he’d tied them fucking tight around her torn and bleeding wrists. That was the least of her worries, not with freedom within her sights.

  The strain and pull on her shoulders burned.

  Flipping her arm up and rotating it just right in the joint, she was able to slowly gain distance up the post. She worked on doing the same to the other arm. Repeating the action, she kept up the steps, gaining inches and then a foot, only to ha
ve the rope fall back down and have to start it again.

  But it was working.

  Sweat dribbled down her forehead, her hair was heavy and hot around her, creating a sort of blanket.

  When she had the rope at the top, she held her breath, edging it over the log post, gasping when it actually came loose. Her arm fell, and she cursed Sergei’s name as blood rushed into the limb with relief.

  She couldn’t believe she’d succeed. She’d refused to hope, and the release of not having her arm pulled, washed over her. She took a minute to baby her arm next to her body, cradling it, before turning toward her other arm, busting the rail free of the post, and easing the rope over the top.

  Yeah, that one was considerably easier.

  Guess, they didn’t make furniture like they used to, or at least, not furniture that could withstand Kate “No Mercy” Mercer.

  She collapsed onto the bed, breathing heavy with a satisfied smile. The lengths of rope were still tied to her wrists, but she was free. After a few minutes of rest, she sat up and struggled with the complicated knots.

  Where was a knife when she needed one? What the hell kind of knot had Sergei tied?

  He’d made it seem so easy as he’d tethered her into place. She studied how he’d secured the rope, hoping to remember how he did it, so she could use his technique herself some day if needed.

  Finally, she had the bindings undone. Gathering the ropes, she eased off the bed, her muscles sore and stiff, and opened the grate to the fire, tossing them into the flames.

  There, that was better.

  The flames greedily attacked the nylon rope, melting them more than burning. The acrid smell assaulted the room, and she huffed a breath of satisfaction.

  Tie her up again, would he?

  She headed toward the bathroom to clean up. There wasn’t a lot of time. And there was lots to do before Sergei returned.

  She glanced out the window facing the mountains and the direction he would have taken.

  All she saw was snow.

  A pang of worry burrowed its way into her heart.

  Sergei struggled up the last incline. There was the site. Kate had done an excellent job hiding her tracks, but there weren’t many who could hide from him. He had a way of sniffing people out. A sixth sense that his father and grandfather had possessed too. He doubted that anyone would have found where Kate had made camp with how she’d chosen to hide. He found her supplies tucked under the branches of a spruce. Just a little duffel. He liked a woman who packed light. Holding his flashlight in his mouth, Sergei opened the backpack and emptied the contents. Tent, satellite phone, MREs, a few more knives—what a woman—rope, fishing hooks and twine, and a change of clothes.

  Those he needed to dispose of. He liked her naked.

  He emptied everything, and then tore off his gloves to feel the seams of the pack. It took him a while, but he found another tracking device sewn into the bottom. It was very well hidden, and he’d missed it during the first and second search. He would have given up if he hadn’t been positive that another existed. Flipping out his switchblade to cut it free, he paused.

  Who was coming for her and when?

  Snow began falling in serious flakes. He looked around, his eyes sweeping his surroundings. He needed to head back or make shelter. The storm was going to snow them in and keep whoever was coming off The Edge.

  Unless they were already here.

  He gathered everything and stuffed it all back into the duffel. Swinging it onto his shoulders, he headed back down the mountain.

  Tied to his bed, Kate was in a vulnerable position, and she had a lot of questions to answer.

  Kate cleaned up her wrists, grabbed her underwear that she’d washed earlier, and slipped them on. Feeling much more covered with that little bit of fabric, she found the jeans Sergei had stripped off her flung into a corner. She yanked them back on along with the socks. Her bra was ruined. Sergei would have to pay for that. She’d loved that bra. She slipped into one of Sergei’s flannel shirts she rummaged from a drawer. This one had a blue and black checkered pattern. It was soft and roomy and smelled like him. She hated that she wanted to snuggle into it.

  Did she really care more for this man than just wanting him dead?

  A twinge she didn’t want to investigate centered around her heart at the thought of him actually dead. She glanced back to the window and the white-out conditions. How much longer would he be?

  She shook her head as though to rearrange her scrambled thoughts back into their rightful slots. Why did she care?

  Could he be right about Perry? Had her partner set them both up?

  She rubbed her hands over her face, twisted her hair into a loose knot and secured it with two pencils she’d located in the small desk by the window. Then she got down to business.

  She searched the room, starting with the rest of the desk. There was nothing of consequence. No computer, hidden documents, weapons. Other than the pencils she’d already helped herself to.

  She moved on.

  She did a full sweep of the room. Nothing. Just clothes, blankets, towels. Nothing personal other than the books that she’d done a good job of destroying. She didn’t bother with the bathroom since she’d already been through it once. She left the room and did a quick exploring of the upstairs. Much as she figured, there wasn’t anything. The rooms were obviously used for paying guests.

  She headed down the stairs on quick, quiet feet, keeping her ears tuned to any changes within the log building. The wind whistled outside, and snow spit at the windows. She couldn’t see anything out of them with the blizzard.

  He’d been gone a while now. Should she...?

  Oh my hell, you are not going out there looking for him.

  The kitchen was her first stop. As with any dwelling, the kitchen always housed the most interesting objects. She helped herself to a handful of nice, decent cutlery and one sinfully-sharp Ulu—an Eskimo knife mostly used for filleting fish. It was a third of a circle in shape with a bone handle that fit nicely in her palm. A long curved blade used for slicing muscle meat from the bones of salmon, it was wicked cool.

  Yeah, that could come in handy.

  The chef knew her knives. As Kate explored the downstairs section of the lodge, she stashed them in places just in case she needed them later. One thing she’d learned as a spy, always be ready to defend yourself.

  Her life was all about putting up walls and arming them with deadly things. The filleting knife was hard to let go of as she hid it inside a stunning vase, glazed in the colors of the Aurora Borealis, and displayed upon the large hearth of the fireplace. She hated not having a weapon on her person. Being tied and strip-searched again was not in her future. She really wanted to hate Sergei for what he’d done to her, wanted to use the violation as fuel against him, but was finding that harder and harder to do. Probably because part of her had enjoyed his touch. More than part of her. He hadn’t needed to be so gentle with how he’d conducted the search. Leaving her wanting had burned more than the actual act of the strip-search. Probably because if the roles had been reversed, she’d have done the same.

  The thought of tying Sergei to a bed and stripping him naked, allowing her hands to search every inch of his skin, had her rooted in place. What would it be like to have free access to his body? To do with him what she wanted?

  Oh, so not thoughts she wanted to be having.

  Slowly she sank down on the leather couch, her toes curling on the rug, and her hands fisting in her lap. She gazed unseeing out the French doors. Snow had piled up on the deck in alarming amounts. Wind swirled flakes into a mass that became a wall. If Sergei didn’t show up soon, he wasn’t going to be able to. He’d be stuck out there unable to find his way back. She didn’t know how he could see a foot in front of him as it was. It would take nothing to get turned around, step off a cliff and fall to his death, or slip on ice and break a bone, and then freeze to death out there in this.

  Why was she more worried about Sergei
struggling through the storm than making him pay for Perry’s death?

  She’d been all fired up to make him pay, had dropped in on The Edge guns blazing and knives slashing after his head. Was that the problem? What if she was really after his heart, since he’d broken hers?

  Oh God.

  He’d left her in Afghanistan. Abandoned her in the face of betrayal, death, and devastation. His betrayal, or so she thought. The accusations he’d said about Perry had a truthful ring to them. There were things she’d witnessed and for some reason or another had talked herself around to where Perry wasn’t in the wrong.

  Could she have been wrong this whole time? She wasn’t gullible like Sergei claimed, but were her loyalties misplaced?

  She stood and paced the area of hardwood next to the French doors, searching to see something through the whiteout.

  Where the hell was he?

  She rubbed her arms and realized how chilled the room had become. She added another couple of logs to the fire, stoking the flames until they burned brighter and hotter. Much the way she burned waiting for Sergei.

  She had questions he needed to answer, and he’d better get his butt back here fast.

  A clatter coming from the kitchen froze her in place.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Kate positioned herself near the fireplace, the fillet knife within handy reach.

  Sergei entered and came to a fast stop at seeing her. He’d already taken off his winter gear but his skin was flushed with cold, his nose and cheeks red, and his hair wet from melting snow. She drank him in, and he stared at her in wonder.

  “How did you get free?” His eyes narrowed and slid around the room as though looking for someone else.

  She disregarded his question for one of hers. “Where the hell have you been?” It came out accusing as though she were a fish wife demanding to know where her man had been out carousing.

  He tossed her backpack into the corner, and wrung his hair back from his face.

  Oooh, he looked all European and sexy with his wet, black hair slicked back from the sharp bones of his face. Her heartbeat increased, and she shifted on the balls of her feet.