Danger Mine: A Base Branch Novel

by Megan Mitcham

  “Did you know one strike of your little fist can kill a person? And you’re a quarter of the size of one of those things.”

  “That’s why it…” She clamped her mouth closed and shook her head. “Forget it.” Khani swooshed him away with her hand and climbed out of the car. Squeezed was the more accurate term.

  Luckily she’d given him more room. He sucked in things that wouldn’t move on an inhale and hobbled on tip-toes toward the back of the car. “I hope we don’t have to make a fast getaway. You know, from a bear or something.”

  Her finger poked into his side with enough force that he winced. “It’s not funny.”

  “That you—a trained operative, who has faced down mass murderers and mob lords—are scared of being attacked by a grizzly bear? Yeah, it’s a little funny.” He winked.

  “There aren’t any big predators in all of the United Kingdom,” she growled.

  “Not right now, because I’m here, with you.”

  “Just make sure your weapon is easily accessible and you have an extra magazine, and come on.” Khani hiked her pack onto her shoulders and then tightened the straps.

  Street locked down the urge to laugh. It truly tickled him that the toughest person he knew, one who’d never shown an ounce of weakness, strapped on the pack like it were a life preserver and she was diving into the middle of the ocean. And damn it, it endeared her to him even more. He groaned, grabbed his sack, and slung it onto his back. Under his hand the back hatch closed with a resounding boom.

  She surveilled the area with a sweeping gaze. “I’ll take the east side.”

  “Sure, you take the roadside with over half our target group and send me to the woods to be supper.”

  “You played rugby, right?” Her bronzed eyelids lifted.

  “How’d you know? Been checking up on me, ’ey?”

  “Look at you.” She flourished her hand down his body. “You could take a juvenile bear.”

  “What about a ma bear or the da?”

  Her small shoulders bobbed. “Then you shoot the guy next to you, run like hell, and hope there is only one of them or that you packed that extra clip I told you to.” With that she pivoted and strode to her section of the grounds.

  Being a guy who dwarfed most of the population, he’d learned the subtle approach intimidated the least. Street ambled toward the bank. He popped the collar on his jacket against the slicing wind and cursed. The only thing he hated worse than cold was hunger so voracious it used his spinal cord as dental floss. His heavily treaded boot threatened to lose traction on the slick lining the bulging river.

  Millions of gallons of glacial melt whirled past him with little more than a murmured ripple. The sheer power of nature once more took his breath. It gave life and took it in the blink of an eye. He crouched at the burbling edge in between two fishermen and submerged the tips of his fingers. The current swept his hand the two feet he allowed it before tugging his hands from the run.

  “Colder than my ex-wife before alimony.”

  Street craned his head to regard the bloke to his left. A red beard hung to the first buttons of his red and black flannel jacket. Cork covered a third of the well-used fishing rod he twitched back and forth with a narrow wrist.

  “Is that so?” Street asked.

  “Ha. I knew you wasn’t from ’round here. And hell yeah it’s so. She’s settled since I started lining her pockets with better than half my catch. But man, she could yell the skin off a elk.”

  “So you fish here a lot?”

  “Every damn day, now that she’s bleedin’ me. You lookin’ for a good fishin’ hole? Then this is it. Right now, at least. Later in the season you’ll have to move farther downriver to get the good ones.”

  “I’m actually looking for a friend. He was last seen here a week ago Monday. You mind taking a look at this picture?” Street held out the phone before the man answered. “His name’s Zeke. He’s a couple of inches shorter than me.”

  The man squinted at the picture, and then angled his gaze at Street. “Well stand up, son. So I can see you.”

  He extended to his full height. The man’s head followed him up. It lolled back and the man blinked. “Shit. You’re what, six five?”

  “My friend is six four, almost black hair, grey eyes,” he countered.

  “As wide as you?”

  “Muscles, but sleeker.”

  Murky blue eyes zeroed in on the phone again. “Mind if I hold it?”

  Street handed over the phone. After another moment, the bloke shook his head. “Na, I ain’t seen him. Andrew!” He stepped around Street and thrust the phone at another fisherman. “You saw this guy, Monday week? Little smaller than this bull.” His thumb hiked at Street.

  Andrew looked for a minute. “No way you’d see a dude that big and not remember. And I’s here sun-up to sun-down Monday thru Friday. Never saw him. Now, that don’t mean he wasn’t out here. Just means I didn’t see him. But so you know, I like to keep tabs on my competition.” He handed the phone over. “You plannin’ to be my competition?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Good,” Andrew said, “I have about all I can take out here already.” His line drew tight and pulled his attention with it.

  “Lucky bastard,” red beard growled. He thrust the phone back at Street, and then gave his line a tug.

  “Well, thanks for your help,” Street said.

  “No trouble.” The bloke yanked on his rod in rapid beats.

  Street stepped away, but stopped himself. He shouldn’t give a shit, but he did. Like it or not. “You have kids?”

  “Three.”

  “Your ex have them?”

  “Yep. My son, well, my oldest son’ll graduate high school next year.”

  He stepped closer and lowered his gaze to the chap’s. “Then quit bitching about your money-grubbing ex-wife and take responsibility for your kids. One day they’ll be adults and you’ll want to look them in the eye without feeling like you’re a two-inch prick.”

  The man faltered as though Street had punched him. Anger replaced surprise. Street held his gaze, hoping the meaning settled. Slowly, the sneer melted into a thin line.

  He bowed and headed up the shore toward the next group of fishermen. “Sorry to interrupt, but Andrew told me to ask you guys. I’m looking for my friend.” Street went through the next three groups the same way. No one had seen Zeke.

  Street stepped back from the river and found Khani plowing through her batch of fisherman as though she worked a line-up of suspects. The rate she filtered through her group told him she had no better luck.

  The rock boundary of the excess parking lot turned to thick brown grass with spruce trees scattered about its gradual incline. A beaten-down mud path led into the distance. He wondered if it was a walking trail or a convenient pee spot for the fishermen. His gaze scanned the campground. In a smattering of navy-blue and green domed tents, two hikers climbed out of a tiny orange two-man made light for long trips into the wild.

  They stretched their arms above their heads and arched out the restriction of such a cramped space. Each hobbled into their respective boots laid on a tarp in front of the zipper door. They slung on small bags, and then the woman leaned over and lifted a walking stick from the ground. She extended it toward the man. His upper lip curled. He eyed the thing as though it were barbed before finally relenting.

  Slowly, they headed toward the trail’s mouth, the walking sticks a third party between them. Street played a hunch and set out for the trailhead without Khani. The woman twirled the end of a long braid around her index finger. She exaggerated her lumbering side-to-side as though she were bored, while the bloke favored one knee and pushed to keep pace.

  Street timed it so they all came to the soggy path at the same time. “Oh, I’m sorry.” He shuffled back and put both hands up in surrender.

  “No.” The bloke leaned heavily of the stick and ushered Street ahead with a flourish. “Go ahead.” The young woman’s jaw worked, but she he
ld her tongue.

  “Really, you go. I’m waiting on my girlfriend,” Street insisted. “I was just checking out the trail. Have you been here before? How is it?”

  “It’s okay—”

  His woman cut him off. “Do you hike a lot? You look like an experienced hiker, but you’re not from around here, are you?”

  “I’ve done my fair share of outdoor living,” Street smiled. “But here, we’re tourists.”

  “No you’re not. Tourists walk around in groups of ten. You’re adventurers. This trail will bore you to tears. It’s easy in, easier out.” She looked to her man and grimaced. ‘Sorry,’ she mouthed. “He’s recovering from MCL surgery. Otherwise we’d be on the ice-fields right now. Those are fun and challenging.”

  “So challenging I ripped my MCL,” the bloke reminded.

  “Well, ah, thanks for the advice,” he inclined his head to the couple. “Good luck on your recovery.”

  They nodded and headed gingerly up the trail. Street turned and found Khani stomping in his direction. “What is it?”

  “These people haven’t seen dick.” Her fists clenched at her sides. “It pisses me off, okay?” She shook them before folding her arms across her middle.

  “Okay.”

  “Okay?” Her mouth arched wide as she dragged out the word. “You’re just going to let me bite your head off for no good reason?”

  “You’re worried about your family.” He scrubbed the back of his hand over his frosty nose. “I can’t say I know what you’re going through, but I understand where your angst comes from. So, yeah. I am.”

  Her cerulean eyes rolled back into her head. “Why do you have to be so logical? Fight with me, would you?”

  “It wouldn’t make you feel better, but I know something that would.”

  “You found a lead?”

  “No, I was thinking more along the lines of eating you out.”

  She grunted and shoved at his chest.

  “Kidding,” he laughed.

  Khani fought the curving of her lips.

  “Your brother wasn’t here at all. Most of the fishermen I talked to are here every day from dawn until dusk. They’re protective of their fishing ground. An outsider would stand out like a black eye.”

  “He’s sneaky. Maybe he blended in,” she countered.

  “What reason would he have to go incognito up here?”

  “I don’t know. None.” Her little hands balled into lethal fists. “But there are trails all around here. Suppose he slipped up one without anyone seeing him.”

  “Is your brother a risk taker or play-it-safe kind of guy?”

  “What do you think?”

  “If he’s anything like you, he’ll risk his body all day long, but never his heart.”

  She reeled back. Her gaze diminished to slits. “I don’t have a heart.”

  “Sure you do. It’s just behind a few kilometers of concrete and steel mesh.”

  “Oh yeah, well where’s yours?”

  He pointed his index finger at her chest. “Standing in front of me, looking like she wants to rip me from limp to limb.”

  Khani’s hands came up like a shield. The whites circling her eyes grew two fold. She turned and started to walk away…just like she always did.

  “In a BDSM relationship, a master—”

  Her feet ground into the rocks. “Dominant,” she snapped. “Not master. I’m no one’s master.”

  “Fine. In a dominant, submissive relationship, there’s trust, right?”

  “On both sides,” she agreed.

  “You may not be my Dominant, but I’m asking you to start trusting me. Everything I do is to help you. Help you find your brother. Help you find yourself.”

  “I know myself, thank you.”

  He took a step forward and spoke into her ear. “No you don’t. No more than I know myself. We’re getting closer, but we have a way to go.” He rounded her, planting himself as a physical barrier yet again. “Isay lied. Your brother wouldn’t waste his time fishing or hiking a toddler trail. Troop, I’ll never hurt you. So, please trust me on this.” He grabbed the keys from her hand and headed for the car. The seconds gathered with no movement behind him. A stitch tightened in his chest. He swallowed past his doubt and soldiered on.

  Street reached for the SUV’s handle.

  Her slow and gentle treads grew near. “Troop?”

  “Trooper,” he explained.

  “Now I have a pet name.” She groaned. “Fine, we’ll try it your way.”

  10

  Isay’s toes pointed better than a Royal Opera House prima ballerina’s. His back arched in a near perfect C. Long, muscular legs scissored in search of the ground. He wouldn’t make company though. The contorted muscles and high red flush of his face just weren’t entertainment material. Not for the general public, at least.

  Khani eased into the recliner and crossed her legs. “What an intriguing show,” she cooed. “I don’t know why I didn’t let you do this sooner.” Then again, maybe not. Her clit throbbed against the seam of her pants. The closeness of her black lace bra abraded her stiff nipples every time she moved. Watching Street work only incited her need to claim him. She’d licked his pre-cum to show him how unaffected she was by his presence. The moment his taste hit her tongue the impulse exploded in her face.

  She wanted him now more than ever. So much so that for a moment she forgot the entire reason for their being here.

  His harsh gaze remained locked on Isay’s. “I don’t know why either. I’m quite enjoying myself. Perhaps he’ll hold out for a while yet. Five minutes is four and a half longer than I expected him to last.”

  The punk garbled through the sock shoved in his mouth.

  “What was that? I need to up the ante?” Street pursed his lips as though thinking about his options. “Why, Isay, I believe you’re right. I’m going to set you down again. If you don’t tell me what I want to know, I’ll use your cock and balls as my next handles.” He untwisted the fists full of the bloke’s nipples, gently lowered him to the floor, and then yanked the white fabric from his stuffed lips.

  She remembered now.

  A red handprint stained the kid’s neck. His shirt hung half off his body, ripped down the front from when he’d tried to escape. Pale skin inflated and deflated at a stressful pace, emphasizing his skeletal frame.

  “Talk. Now.” Street cupped the air and squeezed. “Or I get a handful.”

  Isay screwed his lips tight.

  “You think he has that much?” Khani asked.

  “Only one way to find out.” Street stepped forward.

  “Wait. Fucking wait!” He covered his chest with one hand and his junk with the other. “I saw him, okay? But not at the campground.”

  Khani leapt to her feet without making the decision to do so. “Where? When?”

  He stiffened. “I guided him to Exit Glacier Monday.” When his mouth quit moving Street nudged him with a finger to the forehead. “We hiked hard all day into the ice-field. We made camp that night, and then…” The bastard hugged himself. As though those skinny arms could save him.

  Khani lunged. She crouched and rammed her shoulder into the weak belly. Her knee split his knees. With one easy push she laid him flat on his back. She pressed her forearm on his windpipe and released her fury, fear, and frustration in a scream. “Where is my brother?”

  Air wheezed through purple lips. She roared and pressed harder. The edge of reason blurred. Tightness clamped her waist and she dangled above the piece of shit on the ground.

  “He won’t do you any good dead.” Street’s chest met her back.

  Strangely she sank into it completely spent and oddly at ease in his embrace. She panted much like Isay had, her breaths whooshing through her nose and open mouth.

  The punk rolled to his side. He tucked into a gagging ball.

  Street set her on the floor, but held firmly to her middle. “Talk, kid, or I’ll let her go.”

  A hack that’d make a life-long smo
ker cringe erupted from his throat. “I left him,” he rasped. “I left all my gear behind, so he wouldn’t hear me leave. A set of back-up gear had been stowed a mile up an alternate trail. I hiked all night. Got back here about lunchtime the next day.”

  “Did you have a big date or just felt like fuckin’ off?” Khani asked.

  “I’d asked for the time off, but my uncle wouldn’t give it to me.” He swallowed and grimaced. His fingers tested the skin at his throat. “I just wanted to show him, you know?”

  “I know you’re a piece of shit with no regard for anyone but yourself,” Khani spat.

  The hand holding her back slid across her torso, releasing her. Street’s wide frame stepped around her and advanced on Isay. His shoulders shifted with each step, prowling. Hefty thighs moved quietly over the creaky wooden floor. Isay scrambled back on elbows and heels, but Street didn’t stop until he towered over the prone form. “I know you’re lying. I can see it on your face. I also know you wouldn’t trash two days, hiking all the way out there to stow a pack and then back, just to hack off your uncle.” He leaned down, hands extended toward the bastard’s pecker.

  “No! Yes! I mean yes, I lied.” Each word pitched higher than the last. “My uncle paid me double to ditch him at the pass.”

  Khani’s heart stuttered.

  Street’s hand hovered over the guy’s goods. “Why would he do that?”

  “You’ll have to ask him. I really don’t fucking know. I swear!” Tears ran down Isay’s cheek.

  “The problem is,” Street tsked, “once a liar, always a liar.”

  Khani paced from one window to the next along the front of the house, waiting for her computer to confirm the tap she’d placed on Uncle Vasaya’s phone to come on line. She ignored the carcasses of burned down joints and bottle caps beneath her feet. Her mind prodded the more pressing problem at hand. Who was Isay Polzin’s uncle and why would he order his nephew to abandon a client on the middle of a mother f’ing glacier during the melting season?