Deep, Dark & Dangerous

by Jaid Black

  The phone rang, jarring Madalyn out of her self-pitying reverie. Drake! Her sister was the only person who knew how to reach her.

  Scampering off her bed, Madalyn ran toward the kitchen for the high-tech CACW-issued mobile phone her sister had given her. She cursed under her breath as she fumbled with the metal gadget, trying to remember the code that would permit her to open it. If she entered the wrong password, the thing would explode in her hand.

  “Shit!” she screeched, unable to recall the elaborate code. Why Drake had made the numeric sequence so long was beyond her. On a good day, Madalyn could barely recall the four-digit security code to her old mansion.

  The phone stopped ringing. Defeated, Madalyn sighed. When she threw the piece of metal down on the kitchen counter, she noticed a tiny screen for text messaging that she hadn’t noticed before. Her eyes narrowed as she read the words that flowed over the pixilated screen:

  Your password is 5789127, 687775214, 8, 1111878835, 9856327, 87458758524632, 8747, 89895642, 87458, 7, 568975418, 58741. This time write it down.

  She frowned, then picked up a pen and scribbled down the outrageous password. How could anyone memorize something so ridiculously long?

  When the phone rang again, Madalyn was prepared. Biting her tongue in concentration—a childhood habit she’d never been able to shed—she punched in the proper sequence. She smiled with accomplishment when she opened the phone without her hand and half her head getting blown off.

  “It’s wonderful to hear your voice, Drake. I miss you!”

  “I miss you, too, Maddie Mae.”

  Madalyn was so overjoyed to talk to her sister that she let the “Maddie Mae” go unpunished. “How have you been? When are you coming to see me? Are you—”

  Drake whistled. “Whoa! One question at a time. I’ve been okay, but I doubt I’ll be seeing you anytime soon. The vultures are still swarming and Big Brother is hot on my case.”

  Madalyn understood Drake’s vocabulary with nary a pause. Vultures were reporters and Big Brother was government police of some sort. Why wouldn’t they just leave Drake alone? Didn’t they understand that Madalyn didn’t want to be found? She’d assumed the letter she’d left behind with a lawyer would explain everything.

  “I see,” Madalyn said, her good mood deflating. She should have become a waitress rather than an actress. Then she could disappear without the bounty on her head being so high.

  “Hey, sis…you okay?”

  “Not really.”

  Madalyn sighed, telling Drake how lonely and difficult life was turning out to be in rugged Alaska. She loved the solitude and the genuineness of the few people she’d met, but she wasn’t as self-sufficient as she’d believed herself to be. Life was hard. Being alone so much was even harder.

  “As much as I hate admitting to it, Drake, I just don’t know if I’m cut out for this. I’m as soft as people say. I didn’t want to believe it, but it’s true.”

  “Oh, bullshit.”

  One of Madalyn’s eyebrows inched up. “Eh?”

  “I said ‘bullshit.’ You, Maddie Mae, are one of the toughest people, male or female, I’ve ever met. Even in Hollywood, and you’ve always been outspoken when you believed in something—even if it could have cost you your career. You don’t take crap from anyone. And whenever you set your mind to do something, by God, you do it.”

  Madalyn was so taken aback by her sister’s praise that it took a moment to recover. Drake never gushed like that. She felt an emotional lump the size of an apple form in her throat. “Th-thank you.” She swallowed a bit roughly. “That’s the most wonderful thing anyone has ever said to me.”

  “Well, it’s true. The problem is, you haven’t yet made up your mind to see this Alaskan thing through. Once you do, I know you’ll come out on top. You always do.”

  Her spine straightened at the compliment. It was just the boost her ego needed. “Thank you, Drake.”

  “No thanks are necessary.”

  “I’m going to do it,” Madalyn said firmly, her chin notching up. “I will learn to take care of myself in Alaska if it’s the last thing I ever do!”

  “That a girl!”

  Madalyn shook her head up and down as though Drake could see her. “I will learn to cook, clean, and defend myself.”

  “Go get ’em!”

  She waved a hand regally through the air. “I will learn to sew—well, probably not,” she amended, “but I will learn how to milk that damn goat I bought.”

  “I believe you.”

  “If the mountain won’t come to Mohammed, then Mohammed will go to the mountain!” Madalyn wasn’t precisely certain what that meant, but it added flair to the significant moment.

  “That’s the CACW motto.”

  By the time their phone call ended, Madalyn had vowed that she would stay in Alaska if it killed her. Blowing out a breath as she closed the mobile and peered outside the window at her goat, she decided that it just might.

  OTAR THORDSSON SMILED at the beautiful wench on screen as he sipped from a tankard of ale. He’d only seen a handful of moving pictures in his lifetime, but this one was his favorite.

  The saga was about an English girl with hair of golden red who resisted the wooing of a dark, formidable Viking who had conquered her family’s stronghold. ’Twas a ridiculous flight of fancy, yet Otar enjoyed the movie immensely.

  All Outsider contraptions were illegal in the Underground, but Lord Ericsson occasionally showed movies in secret to a select few he trusted after the working day was done. This eve was such an occasion. With the men preparing for the war that would either reclaim New Sweden or cost them their lives—or both—they needed a harmless way to blow off a little steam.

  “I love this part,” an older warrior named Otrygg mused. He waggled his eyebrows and rubbed his callused palms together. “’Tis time for the Viking lord to claim the wench that belongs to him.”

  That announcement met with a few chuckles. Indeed, this was Otar’s favored part of the picture as well. How could it not be? The tiny lass with the golden-red hair was preparing to remove her dress and show off her naked bosom.

  Later, when the moving picture was over, Otar knew he’d soon be doing one of two things—pounding into the body of a willing widow or pumping his own shaft like a man possessed. Either way, ’twould be thoughts of the wench on the screen that consumed him. It was always the way of it.

  The warriors ceased their prattling as the gorgeous girl’s dress was peeled off her body. Otar’s cock stirred in his leather braes at the sight of those deliciously erect nipples. ’Twas amazing. He’d seen this particular movie, Song of the Viking, a score of times, yet he never failed to get hard each and every time those pink nipples popped up on the screen.

  Otar’s dark gaze narrowed, his eyelids heavy with arousal. Sweet Odin, how he wanted that wench. If he knew where to find her, he’d steal her in a heartbeat.

  “I’m afraid the moving picture ends here for the eve,” Lord Ericsson announced as he entered the dark, earthen chamber. “There is trouble brewing.”

  Otar looked quizzically to Otrygg, who shrugged in ignorance. One black eyebrow inched up as Otar turned to regard his cousin. “What has happened, Nikolas?”

  “’Tis Toki.” Lord Ericsson’s jaw tightened. “The fool was spotted above the ground. Worse yet, I believe he was seen by the Outsider warriors.”

  Otar stilled. “Which ones?” he asked softly.

  Nikolas sighed. “The ones that call themselves ‘Army.’ ”

  “Fuck.”

  “My thoughts exactly.”

  This was not good. Otar had spied on the warriors of Army on more than one occasion, and they knew what they were about. If Toki’s presence had drawn their curiosity, it could spell trouble for all the clans of the three Underground kingdoms. None could know of their existence. Not for many, many more years to come.

  “Otar!” Nikolas barked.

  Otar stood up and inclined his head. He would do whatever was ask
ed of him and every man present knew it. “Aye, milord?”

  Similar in height, the two raven-haired men easily locked eyes. “You know what needs to be done,” Nikolas said.

  “I do.” He would hunt, spy, and—should the situation warrant it—kill.

  Lord Ericsson inclined his head. “Go do it.”

  Chapter

  Three

  Madalyn hummed a favorite show tune—the only show tune she knew, actually—as she pulled a loaf of homemade bread out of the oven. She paused humming long enough to inhale the fresh, heavenly scent. She hoped it would taste as delicious as it smelled.

  “Good grief,” a perplexed voice said, startling a yelp out of her. “What happened here? Did Big Brother take over your body or something?”

  Madalyn whirled around. “Drake,” she breathed out, her heart drumming like mad from the fright she’d been given.

  Drake winked. “I knew you would learn how to take care of yourself, Maddie Mae. I didn’t know you’d turn into Betty Crocker.”

  The old Madalyn would have been insulted by such a comment. Apparently the new Madalyn was, too. “I’m not Betty Crocker. And for the love of God, please quit calling me Maddie Mae!”

  Within seconds, Madalyn’s glower kicked up into a smile. “You’re really here?” she whispered. “I’m not having some sort of goat milk–induced hallucination?”

  “It’s possible you’re hallucinating,” Drake said seriously. “Do you know what kind of chemicals the government feeds to farm animals? Just yesterday I read about—”

  “Oh, shut up and hug me already!” Madalyn laughed. She grinned like an idiot as she ran across the floor and threw her arms around her little sister. “Goodness, Drake, I’ve missed you! Please tell me you’ll be staying a while?”

  Drake hugged her back, the love she felt for Madalyn clear in her embrace. “Of course.” Glancing around the cabin, her smile faded. “I need to fortify this puppy a bit better.”

  Madalyn was too overjoyed by Drake’s announcement that she planned to stay a while to give her alarmist comment much thought. Besides, that was just Drake, and she accepted her sister for who she was.

  “Would you like a tour of the cabin first?” Madalyn asked.

  “Sounds good.”

  DRAKE HAD BEEN RIGHT, Madalyn thought with a feeling of accomplishment. Once she made up her mind to do something, she did it, come hell or high water. She had learned to cook for herself and clean the log cabin without breaking into sneezing fits. She was becoming a better barterer at the Inuit trading village. Hell, she was even teaching herself a few self-defense techniques she’d gleaned from one of those boring CACW manuals her sister had given her before she’d left for Alaska.

  The one thing Madalyn hadn’t tried to do yet was milk her goat, Victoria. Now that Drake was here, she would have to. It was either that or buy a ton of milk from the nearby village.

  “Are you sure you can do it by yourself?” Drake asked skeptically.

  Madalyn nodded as she neared her goat. “Victoria seems to like me. I’m sure it’ll be okay.”

  “Victoria? You named a goat Victoria?”

  “If you bothered to watch any of my movies, you’d know it was the name of the very first leading lady I ever played.”

  “Song of the Viking.” Drake nodded. “I saw it. Been trying to block the visual of what your tits look like from my memory ever since.”

  Madalyn ignored that. Plopping a pail on the ground next to Victoria, she concentrated on the task at hand. “Okay,” she said, unsure of herself, “here goes nothing.”

  “Um, Maddie Mae…”

  “Shhh! I’m about to touch her, uh, boobie. Don’t frighten her.”

  “Don’t touch that!”

  Madalyn glanced up, the alarm in her sister’s voice breaking her concentration. “What is the problem?” She rolled her eyes. “Don’t tell me that nature girl can’t stand to watch a goat get milked.”

  Drake frowned. “I’d gladly watch what you so scientifically referred to as a ‘boobie’ get milked, but that ain’t no boobie. And I’m guessing Victoria should have been named Victor.”

  Madalyn’s green eyes widened. “You mean…?”

  Drake nodded. “Afraid so. I don’t think I want to drink anything that comes out of that thing.”

  “How gross!”

  “I’m with you on that one.”

  Angry, Madalyn shot up to her feet. “That damn man who sold me Victoria promised me she was a girl! I decided to buy her even though she only had one boobie because I felt sorry for her. That snake-oil salesman told me she’d had a partial mastectomy!”

  Drake sighed. “Have you ever heard of a goat getting a mastectomy?”

  Madalyn threw her hands up in the air. “What do I know about goats? Damn him! I’m just grateful I got tired last night and decided not to milk her—him—as originally planned.”

  Drake winced.

  “I guess we’ll have to go into the village to buy milk.” Madalyn sighed. “Sorry, sis.”

  “Hey, as long as you’re sure it’s really milk they’re selling, I don’t mind.”

  “Good grief, I hope so.”

  “I’m sure it is.” Drake inclined her head toward Victoria. “We can try to find that goat trader, too, and make him exchange him.”

  Madalyn’s eyes rounded. “No way! I can’t give Victoria away just because she is a he.” She petted the goat and smiled. “It follows me everywhere. I rather like him. We’ll have to buy another goat.”

  “Fine. Just let me do the talking this time. And remember something.”

  “What?”

  “Boobies always come in pairs.”

  “Right.”

  OTAR GAVE THE SIGNAL for the two warriors he’d chosen to accompany him on the mission to approach the hidden door that led to the Outside. Having already checked for invaders, he knew none were about.

  All three men were dressed in the way of their people—leather braes and boots, sleeveless tunics, and bangles clasped about their biceps. For camouflage they wore polar bear skins—heavy white furs that kept them warm whilst shielding others from being aware of their presence.

  Otar looked at his approaching men. Luukas was considered to be a bit touched in the head by their people, but he was a talented ferreter of information and people nonetheless. Iiro didn’t share Luukas’s insane bloodlust, but a finer hunter didn’t exist.

  “’Tis time,” he told them. “Let us do this now and do it quickly.”

  “YOU’RE WEARING THAT?” Drake asked.

  Madalyn’s forehead wrinkled as she gazed into her sister’s green eyes that were dead ringers for her own. Frowning, she smoothed out her ski suit with her hands. “Did I sit in coffee or something?” she asked, twisting her head back and forth to try to get a look at her rear end.

  “No, you didn’t sit in anything. Maddie Mae—”

  “I really wish you wouldn’t call me that!”

  “Come here. Stand in front of the mirror and let’s inspect that thing you call an outfit versus what I’m wearing.”

  “I’ll have you know that this is a Christian Dior design,” Madalyn sniffed. “It’s gorgeous.”

  “It’s pink.”

  “Pink and gorgeous.”

  Drake looked like she wanted to hit somebody. Namely Madalyn. “Come here,” she said again, tugging at her sister’s arm. “Stand in front of the mirror and tell me what you see.”

  Madalyn followed her sister’s lead. Gazing in the mirror, she gave herself the once-over: Pink ski suit trimmed with faux pink fur. Matching pink boots. Long, honey-red curls wound into a knot before flowing down her back. Pink sunglasses garnished with diamonds.

  Madalyn shrugged. “This outfit is great. I think it’s very pretty.”

  “Pretty in Hollyweird,” Drake said pointedly.

  Madalyn stilled. The light came on. “Oh good grief, I’m an idiot,” she muttered.

  “No you’re not,” Drake promised, patting her on the
back. “You just aren’t accustomed to survivalist living yet.” She nodded with an air of authority. “Luckily for you and your desire to not be recognized, I am.”

  “Great.” Madalyn sighed, looking at her sister’s polar-bear-skin-over-khaki outfit like a deer caught in headlights. “I can hardly wait to see what kind of outfit you put me in.”

  Chapter

  Four

  The village of Zhitana was so tiny, remote, and unknown that it wasn’t even found on any Alaskan maps, let alone in United States atlases.

  “You look great!” Drake yelled, so she’d be heard above the snowmobile’s loud engine. “Don’t worry so much!”

  Madalyn thought she looked like a militant psychopath who’d recently fought a polar bear to the death, but she supposed it didn’t matter. The point was to not stick out in a crowd. The fact that she wasn’t an Inuit was already one strike against her and she didn’t need a strike two.

  Usually Madalyn didn’t get a chance to take in the scenery, because she had to concentrate on driving the snowmobile. Today Drake was doing the driving, giving Madalyn time to gaze at her surroundings.

  The snowy, ice-capped mountains thrusting up all around them were practically beyond words, though “magnificent” and “gigantic” quickly came to mind.

  And “remote”…

  Madalyn nibbled on her lower lip. She’d never really considered just how far out there she lived. The closest village was an hour’s ride by snowmobile. What if something happened? What if she needed a doctor? Or what if some psychotic fan found her? There would be no one to help her and Drake, nobody within miles to even hear their screams.

  Stop it. Quit being a drama queen!

  You could take the girl out of Hollywood, but you couldn’t take Hollywood out of the girl. Being dramatic was as much a part of her personality as Drake’s conspiracy theories were part of hers.

  She shivered as her gaze flicked from one icy mountaintop to the next. Wrapping the polar bear skin more securely around her, she ignored the tiny voice inside that warned her something ominous would happen, and turned her attention back to Drake.