***
Flynn swung open the door to the tiny attic room at the so-called bed-and-breakfast. More like a barn-and-breakfast. The small space had sloped ceilings, tucked away on the top floor of the A-frame house. The place was probably set up by the old hunter and his wife who lived here so they could close it off when it wasn’t in use.
But it was warm and safe for Misty. Nothing else mattered.
He tossed his duffel bag and Misty’s suitcase in a corner by the only chair and walked to the wood-burning stove to get some heat moving around. And to take his eyes off the iron bed. Not that he would be using that mattress. He would spend the night on the dinky futon that had been billed as a sofa bed on the website.
Kneeling in front of the stove, he opened the grate to find a preset kindling pile. Quietly, he eyed the room while Misty unpacked things from her bag. It was a house, but it wasn’t. The cabinets weren’t made of wood. They looked like wood but it was a veneer with particle board. The rug under his boots crunched. He reached down to test the texture. Nothing like the natural fibers he was accustomed to. The only things that appeared authentic were the hand-painted nesting dolls beside the bed. They looked like some of the crafts his brother’s wife had her students make in school.
If things in this backwoods room seemed strange, how much more out of place would he be if he left the islands altogether? He didn’t even remember another way of living. His parents had been one of the founding families, coming here from Washington State. His father headed up the village community council and talked about the day Flynn or Ryker would run for election. Not that Ryker had much interest in anything other than smoking weed and sleeping with his wife.
Flynn had been the one to dream of having a simple life for himself like his parents’—a life with Misty.
Steeling himself for just how damn pretty she was, he turned to face her. Still, seeing her punched the air out of his lungs. Her silky hair brushed her shoulders as she pulled shampoo and a comb from her bag. Well-washed jeans hugged the curve of her hips. Her green flannel shirt had a little ruffle alongside the buttons that all but shouted to his fingers to slide them open.
He gripped his knee until it hurt. “Sorry there was only one room.”
“I’m not worried.” She added a bar of soap to her pile of toiletries, the scent of some kind of berries drifting across the room. “If you intended to hit on me, you would have done it long before now. It’s been four years.”
Since this was his big chance, might as well go for broke. “That doesn’t mean I haven’t been thinking about you.”
“Tough not to, when we bump into each other all the time.” She slammed closed the suitcase again. “You can take the futon.”
“It’s not exactly bedtime yet.” Even to conserve energy, a person couldn’t sleep all the time it was dark in Alaska. “We should eat something.”
A tray rested on the end table, chair on one side, bed on the other. She eyed him for a second before plopping down on the edge of the bed, making it very clear he wasn’t getting near the four-poster even for supper.
He took the chair as she pulled the napkin off a plate of salmon pie and blueberry cobbler. A pitcher of ice water and pot of hot chocolate rounded out the meal, the dinner making up somewhat for the ratty futon. He draped his napkin over one knee and divvied up the meal. At least he could feed one hunger. He tucked into his flaky crust, smoked salmon and cheese oozing out of the sides. With every bite he felt the heavy weight of Misty’s gaze across the table as she pushed her food back and forth on her chipped pottery plate.
As he reached to refill his water glass, she dropped her spoon on the table with a jarring clatter.
“Flynn, I want you to know that I forgive you.”
His hand froze with the fork halfway up, cobbler dripping off the sides. Stunned, he set the utensil down again. “What did you say?”
“I forgive you for what you did with… June. If you need it spelled out. I forgive you for having sex with her,” she said curtly, her tight face not looking happy or at peace with jack squat. “I thought you should know that.”
“Okay. Thank you,” he answered, not knowing what the hell else to say. “I’m not so sure I could be as generous if the positions were reversed.”
She cocked her head to the side. “If I had slept with someone you would still be angry?”
God yes, which is why he didn’t understand why he’d done it in the first place. “If you cheated while we were dating, then yeah, I would still have a problem with it.”
Picking up her fork, she looked away as if mulling his words over—and effectively making it impossible for him to speak, since she wouldn’t see him.
She pushed her food around again, jabbing the cobbler until berries spurted purple juice into the crust the way she used to do with her mother’s cobbler. “What about if I’ve slept with someone over these past four years?”
Her words stabbed him as effectively as her fork into that fruit even though he realized he had no right. He knew she’d dated a few times. He was painfully aware of each time, since his sister-in-law Lindsay made sure to pass along any gossip he might have missed.
But Lindsay had always done so assuring him none of them were serious.
Hell. As if he’d had any kind of relationship at all with June. “I guess I gave up my right to be upset about who you choose to be with, but yeah, it would bug me because I still regret how it ended with us. I wish things could have been different.”
“Me too,” she said simply.
With those two little words, Misty had reached out in a serious way here and he could, he would, do the same for her.
“I’ll go the rest of the way to your appointment with you.” Even if that meant he couldn’t come back. He tamped down the panic, for her. He owed her. “I’ll be right there by your side through the surgery, your recovery, all of it. Before you can argue, I’m not asking you to take me back. I’m only asking to be there for you now.”
The way he should have been there when she got sick. His mom worked at the hospital and had given him reports. She’d told him how Misty seemed to have given up. They all thought she would die. He’d known he was the reason she didn’t fight. It was a miracle she’d lived at all. He’d taken so much from her, from them both. He had to give something back.
She stared into his eyes and he started to hope that maybe, somehow, he could finally fix the mess he’d made. She opened her mouth, her hand sliding up to the side of her neck in that way he’d come to recognize she used to make sure her words came out right.
“You’re misunderstanding where I was going with what I said.” She covered his hand lightly. “I forgive you, but I don’t need you, Flynn. Remember? I have someone else to hold my hand.”
She’d said as much earlier, back at her house, but he’d assumed she was throwing words in his face. Certainly he would have heard about any serious relationship. But he could see the truth on her face now and it sliced clean through him.
The hell of it all? He couldn’t make himself stop soaking up the feel of her hand on his again. “You said you have someone waiting to meet you. Someone who left before you?”
“It’s not anybody you know.” She slid her fingers away and back to her lap, twisting her napkin.
“Then I don’t understand.” He sagged back in the rickety chair.
“I met someone online.”
He sat up straighter. “That’s not safe.”
“I’m not a child. I will be careful. Ted and Madison will help me as well.”
Jealousy scoured his insides like lye on exposed skin. Adding heat to the already raging burn, he realized she’d never confirmed or denied anything that had happened over the past four years. He had no rights anymore.
But knowing it didn’t stop the roar of jealousy inside him. Not that she could hear him even if he vocalized it. “I just want you to be careful. That’s why I’m here with you.”
“I’m grateful for your help. Truly
.” Her hand twitched as if she might reach out to touch him again. “I think we both need some closure.”
He realized she was forgiving him so he could go home with a clear conscience. So he could get on with his life. So she could get on with hers.
She was telling him good-bye. Forever. Until that moment he hadn’t realized how much he looked forward even to bumping into her on the street. The thought of never seeing her again slashed though him, incomprehensible.
Unacceptable.
He half stood and leaned across the table, cupping the back of her neck. The glide of her hair along his fingers almost made his knees fold. He angled his mouth over hers to stop the flow of words cutting him out of her life.
She felt familiar and still so much more than he could have remembered. He knew just how their mouths fit together, the scent of her, cinnamon. The taste of blueberries on her lips. Tracing the seam of her mouth until finally, finally, she opened for him with a sigh of encouragement he could never forget.
Her hands fell to his chest, her fingers twisting in his shirt as she deepened the contact, taking it to a new level. Not two teenagers, but meeting as adults, as a man and a woman. And his body was reacting 100 percent like a red-blooded man’s.
He went so hard, so fast, his hands shook with restraint. After all day sitting in the truck with her, catching the scent of her with every gust of air his way, he hurt all the way to his teeth from having her so close and not being able to touch her.
Now, here she was, kissing him, and as much as he wanted more he was so damn scared that if he pushed her, he would lose this much.
She inched back, her green eyes wide with… horror.
Shit.
He dropped into his chair, hope deflating as fast as his erection.
Misty scooped up her toiletries from the foot of the bed and scampered across the room and out the door as if she couldn’t get away fast enough. The door clicked closed behind her, her footsteps growing fainter as she raced down the stairs to the shared bathroom on the second floor.
Then it hit him. She had kissed him back. And while that might have freaked her out, she hadn’t slapped him. She hadn’t told him to leave. She’d left, as if maybe she was every bit as off balance as he was.
He’d meant what he said about wanting to stay with her, to help her through everything ahead of her. No way in hell could he just walk away from her once they reached the mainland. He was making progress, but he’d almost wrecked that by pushing too hard, too fast, with the kiss. He needed to take a step back.
He had a chance with Misty, an honest-to-God second chance, and he refused to screw this one up. Even if it meant sleeping on the crappy futon.
***
Sitting cross-legged in the middle of the bed, wrapped in the quilt, Sunny nibbled the edge of the oatmeal rhubarb bar. Today, she’d learned that amazing sex gave her the munchies. And since they’d had sex twice in the past hour—once against the door and again in bed—she was seriously craving snacks.
Even an oatmeal rhubarb bar. Not her favorite dessert by a long shot, but it would have to do. Right now she would give about anything for some of her mom’s cobbler, but that probably had more to do with thinking about being home again than the actual food in front of her. Except it could never be home again for any of them.
As long as everyone was safe, she could deal with whatever else happened.
Wade knelt in front of the fireplace, their only source of heat right now since the local power plant seemed to be on be the fritz. Lights had flickered off and on for the past hour and she cringed to think what many in this area—so dependent on the power plant—would do if there was a long-term, major outage. The hotel had a backup generator, but Wade had said he figured he should stoke up the fire, just in case.
Light from the flickering logs played off the hard planes of his naked back. He had three tiny tattoos walking down his shoulder, green footprints, of all things. There had to be a story there, and she’d been meaning to ask him since she first saw them. Somehow life kept interfering in the craziest ways. She wondered if she would get the chance to ask before his learning about her family put a huge freaking wall between them.
He dusted his hands clean, a hefty sigh stretching his shoulders even broader. Pushing off on his knees, he stood, tugged on his pants, then faced her. Those stitches on his shoulder reminded her of all they’d been through together, how much they still faced. He’d insisted on changing the dressing himself—citing his medic training again. She’d tried not to feel rejected. It was such a silly thing to want to tend him, but he was clearly all hands-off.
His somber expression sent a skitter of apprehension down her bare spine.
She set aside the cookie bar with the others on the complimentary plate of snacks and tugged the quilt tighter around her. “What’s wrong?”
“Time to talk about your brother.”
Her stomach sank. She could see in his eyes that he already knew the truth.
So much for her big decision to come clean about Phoenix deserting.
As she looked at the cool anger in his face she realized what had been “off” about him in the plane. He must have just found out. He’d said he spoke with one of his teammates right before boarding the plane. Realization crept in.
He hadn’t come on the flight to be with her. He’d joined her because he knew about her brother and there could only be one reason for him to follow her up the mountain. He wanted to see her brother jailed.
She sat motionless. Feeling so damn gullible. For once she didn’t have a clue what to do. Stay put so he couldn’t find her brother? Except then who would warn the community?
She had completely and surely boxed herself into a corner. “How did you find out?”
He dropped into a rocking chair beside the bed and it didn’t escape her notice that he didn’t choose the bed.
“The OSI lifted fingerprints from your backpack to get an ID on you. Your brother’s name popped up in connection to one of the prints in the database. He has a sister named Sunny and here you are. What’re the odds on that?”
She stayed silent, her finger nervously tracing the appliquéd fish on the quilt.
“So much makes sense now.” He clasped his hands between his knees, leaning toward her, his eyes pinning her as effectively as if he’d handcuffed her. “No wonder you freaked when I mentioned the need to report back in. You couldn’t have been that old when he ran. Only a teenager.”
“Sounds to me like you already know everything. Why didn’t you say something sooner?”
“Waiting for the right time.”
“Waiting until you could snag another quickie with the gullible woman?”
His head snapped back as if slapped.
She held up her hand. “Stop. Forget I said that. I’m the one who kept secrets. If anyone should feel taken advantage of, it’s you.”
His forehead puckered in confusion. “Damned if I can figure you out.”
“It’s probably best for both of us that you don’t even try.”
Her words, the wall they built, swelled between them. She inched off the bed and reached for a long T-shirt in her bag, one of Wade’s T-shirts. Her wardrobe was seriously limited these days to what he’d given her and what she’d packed when leaving her apartment over the gym for what she thought would be a simple trip up and down the mountain.
Tugging the shirt over her head while keeping the blanket up would look silly. So she turned her back to him and yanked the cotton in place quickly. When she spun around, he was staring at the floor as if to give her privacy. God, how cold this felt, so different from what they could have had. Except if she had been up-front with him from the start they would have never even been here in the first place.
She sat on the edge of the bed. “What happens next?”
With her brother.
Between them.
“You need to face the possibility that someone in your community may be tangled up in this, that someone has a
very compelling reason for wanting to keep the place anonymous.”
His not-so-subtle hint sunk in.
“You think my brother killed all those people?” Horror almost made her vomit. “No! No, I would know. He’s not capable of that.”
He held up a pacifying hand. “Okay, I understand that isn’t something you can consider. But you need to accept that it’s possible—quite probable in fact—that someone inside your community is tied to this. Letting them know you’ve discovered the bodies, that you’re on your way, could have alerted them.”
His words made sense… blood chilling sense. “But I already sent that email.”
“Telling them everything?”
“I explained about Ted and Madison. I warned that there could be others, and the investigation could sweep up there.” She struggled to remember exactly how she’d worded her note. “I tried not to give too many details because I didn’t want to freak out the families who had lost people, not to mention those who might think someone had died when they weren’t on the list. And the OSI said not to give out all the names.”
Her explanation sounded so damn lame now. She felt like a dog paddling in a frozen pond.
“You said the bodies found didn’t account for everyone who’d left. Either we just haven’t found them in the ice yet, or some did make it away.” He thumbed between his eyes as if pushing back a headache. “Which makes me wonder, why kill those particular people? Was it simply a matter of impulse? Or targeting the weak? What do you know about the others?”
“I gave a list to the OSI of the other names and even though I didn’t know them as well as the ones we…” She scooped the quilt off the floor, even knowing her chill went deeper than any blanket could help. “The ones we lost, I’m praying they’re all still alive.”
His hand fell away from his head, his brown eyes alert. “You didn’t know them as well?”
“They were new to the community over the past couple of years.”
“And the others?”
She thought through the names, those nightmarish dead faces, and realized… “They were long-term residents, people we were surprised opted to go. But they kept in touch by email for a little while. God, why didn’t I think about the emails before? Someone is tampering with the email, pretending to be those murdered people.”
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