by Kim Baldwin
Synopsis
Emery Lawson reinvents herself after a near-death experience prompts a thorough reevaluation of her priorities. Empowered to live a life of no regrets, she casts aside all that is familiar to face her fears and chase her dreams. But as she heads for the wilds of Alaska, romance is definitely not on her agenda because she’s convinced she’s incapable of falling in love.
Pasha Dunn has learned to expect the unexpected in her job with an Adventure Outfitter in the remote Alaskan interior. Adaptability is essential in such a savage and unforgiving landscape. But she’s woefully unprepared when her infallible intuition tells her that client Emery Lawson is the soul mate she’s been waiting for all her life. Emery is clearly determined to remain unattached, and her high-risk vagabond lifestyle is too far outside Pasha’s comfort zone.
All that they think they want and know will be challenged when they are thrust into a nightmare of survival and endurance high above the Arctic Circle.
High Impact
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High Impact
© 2011 By Kim Baldwin. All Rights Reserved.
ISBN 13: 978-1-60282-616-8
This Electronic Book is published by
Bold Strokes Books, Inc.
P.O. Box 249
Valley Falls, New York 12185
First Edition: December 2011
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission.
Credits
Editor: Shelley Thrasher
Production Design: Susan Ramundo
Cover Photo By Nyoda
Cover Design By Sheri ([email protected])
By the Author
Hunter’s Pursuit
Force of Nature
Whitewater Rendezvous
Flight Risk
Focus of Desire
Breaking the Ice
High Impact
The Elite Operatives Series with Xenia Alexiou
Lethal Affairs
Thief of Always
Missing Lynx
Dying to Live
Acknowledgments
Most of my readers know I have a passion for writing about Alaska. This is the third book I’ve set there, after Whitewater Rendezvous and Breaking the Ice. It’s such an extraordinary backdrop for a nature-based adventure, full of plot possibilities and vivid sensory images, and I embraced the chance to revisit some favorite characters from the previous novels as well as introduce a new couple to the landscape. As with my previous books, it’s my profound hope High Impact not only entertains, but also inspires readers to join in the battle to preserve our greatest national treasure—the Alaskan wilderness—from the threat of oil drilling and other perils.
My deep appreciation to all the women at Bold Strokes Books who contribute so much to making my books the best they can be. Radclyffe, for her leadership and vision, and for taking the chance on a new and inexperienced author. Editor Shelley Thrasher, who inspires and challenges me to always improve my craft, and catches me when I fall short. Graphic artist Sheri, for another amazing cover. Connie Ward, BSB Publicist and first-reader extraordinaire, and all the other support staff who work behind the scenes to make each BSB book an exceptional read.
I’d also like to thank my dear friends Jenny Harmon and author Carsen Taite, for your invaluable feedback and insights. Jenny, you help keep me on track and motivated during the writing of each manuscript more than you’ll ever know.
Although all the characters in my books until now have been fictional, two in this book are based on real-life friends, Dita Eidson and Toni Whitaker, who were the top contributors to an auction I held to benefit a woman with cancer. I hope they’re pleased with how they’re portrayed.
I am blessed to have a circle of close friends who provide unending support. Marty, Xenia, Pattie, Clau & Es, Linda, Felicity, Kat. Near or far, you are always close to my heart. Thank you to my brother Tom, always willing to chauffeur me to the airport.
And especially to all the readers who encourage me by buying my books, showing up for my personal appearances, and for taking the time to e-mail me. Thank you so much.
Dedication
For Mom & Dad
Most people can look back over the years and identify a time and place at which their lives changed significantly. Whether by accident or design, these are the moments when, because of a readiness within us and a collaboration with events occurring around us, we are forced to seriously reappraise ourselves and…make certain choices that will affect the rest of our lives.
—FREDERICK F. FLACK
Prologue
Bettles, Alaska
September 2009
Pasha Dunn pressed her face against the window of the Cessna and gazed at the small settlement coming into view, the first sign of civilization she’d seen since they left Fairbanks two hours earlier. The journey over endless stretches of empty swampland, taiga forest, countless lakes, wide river valleys, and snow-peaked mountain ranges had driven home just how isolated her new home north of the Arctic Circle was.
The village of Bettles didn’t look like much from the air, just a scattering of buildings along the Koyukuk River, set in dense green forest. More impressive was its backdrop: the endless Brooks Range, one of North America’s most magnificent and desolate stretches of high mountains.
Of all the places she’d lived, this would certainly qualify as the most unique.
Her friends in Minneapolis had been shocked and dismayed when she decided to move to such an isolated, harsh environment, where temperatures during winter could drop to twenty-below or worse and stay there for months. She hadn’t hesitated, however, because her keen sense of intuition had led her here.
The power—as she referred to it—had so far proved infallible, though it had taken her years to fully develop and surrender to her gift. She didn’t consider herself psychic, exactly. She certainly couldn’t produce such feelings at will. But as long as she could remember, she had experienced deep, profound gut feelings about people, places, and circumstances that always panned out. Every job, every major move, everyone she’d ever been close to had prompted that niggling you-can’t-pass-this-up sense that seemed to arise when something of importance presented itself. Similarly, she’d sometimes get an impending sense of doom about someone or something, and she’d follow that intuition, often to find later she’d had good reason for her sinking sense of dread.
The power had last manifested itself a month ago, when she’d spotted an advertisement on a job-hunting Web site. It read, very simply,
Do you have what it takes to live the adventure others only dream of? Eidson Eco-Tours, an adventure outfitter in Alaska, is looking for men and women to serve as wilderness guides and support staff. No experience necessary, but related skills desirable. Must be physically fit, reliable, love nature, and play well with others. Contact Dita Eidson to apply.
Pasha was working at a salon, but she’d felt for months that she needed to move on and begin a new chapter in her life. She was waiting only for that boom of recognition, that pivotal knowing her new direction, which had come when the ad caught her eye. She’d immediately picked up the phone and dialed the contact number, and her feeling of rightness had only intensified when she heard Dita Eidson’s so
ft Southern drawl.
Now she was here, anxious and excited to begin her new job as an outfitter’s assistant. Dita had explained that her duties initially would involve booking clients, packing for trips, running errands, and in general being her go-to gal. Since the winter months were slow, she’d spend much of her time training with some of the seasoned guides, learning all the skills she’d need to be out in the field with clients—first aid, cooking, safety, survival, and so on.
If she took to the job and did well her first summer season, Dita promised, she’d become a junior guide the next year.
The plane set down on the village’s short, single runway and taxied to a stop near what passed as the control tower—a small cabin whose sign read Bettles FAA Station. As the pilot—a middle-aged bearded guy who’d introduced himself as Skeeter—unloaded her bags, she asked directions to the Eidson Eco-Tours office.
“Easy breezy,” he said, blowing smoke from the cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth. “Follow that gravel strip there two blocks, hang a right, and you’re there. Can’t miss it.”
“Thanks.”
Pasha hefted her pack onto her back and pulled up the handle of her big rolling suitcase before setting off. She passed an enormous log structure at the edge of the tarmac that looked to be one of the more popular places in the village, judging by the handful of lunchtime patrons. The sign above the door read The Den. She’d have to check it out once she got settled.
The Eidson Eco-Tours office was a two-story wood structure with a wide porch dotted with wicker rockers and massive caribou antlers over the door. When she went inside, a tiny bell above her jangled. She found herself in a cozy waiting area, with couches and chairs, a TV, and walls adorned with framed photographs and native art.
A petite woman in her early fifties, with short-cropped salt-and-pepper hair and wire-rimmed glasses, emerged from a room in the back. She glanced from Pasha to her overstuffed backpack and large suitcase and smiled. “I bet you’re Pasha, aren’t you?” she asked with a soft Southern drawl as she headed toward her. “Welcome to Bettles.”
“I am. And I recognize that voice. Dita, right?”
“None other. Pleased to meet you,” Dita said, offering her hand.
“Likewise. I’m excited to be here.”
As they shook hands, a faint rainbow-colored aura shimmered briefly around Dita’s body. Pasha grinned. Auras were one of her power’s most valuable manifestations, because they only appeared around people who would become her cherished friends.
The excellent omen confirmed that she’d made the right decision.
*
Sofia, Bulgaria
Same day
Emery Lawson raised her first-class seat to its upright position and glanced out the window at the city coming into view. The gilded dome of a cathedral glinted distantly in the noonday sun, golden treasure in a sea of terra-cotta rooftops. Checking her watch, she calculated she’d have roughly ninety minutes after she completed her mission before she had to return to the airport. Better than some jobs, but still never enough to soothe the wanderlust that had been with her since birth and grew exponentially with each passing day. Her career had become a relentless tease, offering her only glimpses of the life she’d always imagined.
As usual, she traveled light, so she was able to bypass baggage claim. Her small backpack contained only a change of clothes, toiletries, a couple of PowerBars, and her iPhone, loaded with dozens of e-books, hundreds of her favorite tunes, and several translation, navigation, and tourism apps. This trip she also carried a hard briefcase, loaded with the confidential documents she’d been contracted to deliver by one p.m. After a brief stop at the currency exchange for some levs, she hailed a taxi and headed to meet her contact.
Sofia resembled many other European cities she’d visited, with its vivid flower stalls, fountains, crowded cafés, Gothic churches, and abundance of bicycles and mopeds. Unique were the distinctive yellow Viennese cobblestone streets in the city center and the completely indecipherable signage. For more than two decades, Emery had spent much of her time in airports and on airplanes listening to language tapes, so she had a reasonable command of basic French, Spanish, German, Dutch, and Italian. And she could get by well enough in a half dozen more dialects, not that she’d had nearly enough opportunities to use all she had studied. But she was lost trying to puzzle out the oddly shaped alphabets of Russia, Greece, Eastern Europe, and Asia. She planned to tackle these next, one by one, so when she finally traveled on her own terms, she’d be reasonably comfortable anywhere.
Emery felt like a voyeur, confined to watching and tasting the life she longed to fully immerse herself in. One day, she promised herself.
All too soon, they’d pulled up before the Arena di Serdica, an upscale hotel in the city center. She’d read online that it was built atop ancient Roman ruins, discovered during construction and now exposed to view on the ground floor. Since she’d arrived well before her deadline, she allowed herself a few minutes to admire them before taking care of business.
The desk clerk rang her client and directed her toward the bank of elevators. Her efficiency in dispensing with the massive paperwork required for international deliveries allowed her to be in and out of the deluxe suite on the top floor within ten minutes. As she did whenever she traveled, she noted the room’s view, amenities, and proximity to landmarks. Within her iPhone she kept an ever-expanding database of potential hotels, inns, and guesthouses she might independently utilize one day.
She waited impatiently for the elevator to take her back down. She intended to make use of every minute of her remaining time in Sofia, soaking up as much ambience as possible. She would first stop at the massive Market Hall to glimpse the local handicrafts and sample some local cuisine. The impressive Neo-Renaissance structure would also satisfy her appreciation for the amazing architecture she so admired in Europe’s ancient capitals.
When an empty car arrived, she stepped inside and hit the Lobby button. Soothing classical music—a Bach cello suite—wafted around her as she began to descend.
Emery was trying to identify the piece when the car suddenly slammed to a stop and began to buck and sway. Jesus Christ. Earthquake! The realization had barely registered when she crashed against the back wall, then tumbled forward and hit the floor face-first. Her nose broke, the wind whooshed out of her, and she nearly bit through her bottom lip, the pain excruciating. The metallic tang of blood filled her mouth as she struggled to breathe. Alarms blared, mingled with the sound of distant screams. Time slowed, and her senses came fully alert as adrenaline poured through her. The car banged against the shaft, shaking her in a bone-jarring vibration as she tried to get to her knees.
Just as she spotted the silver door above the elevator buttons that likely contained an emergency phone or something, the lights in the car blinked out and the music stopped. Over the clanging of the alarms, she heard running footfalls just above the doors ahead of her, a short cadence of quick thumps.
“Help!” she screamed. “Help! I’m stuck in the elevator! Someone please help me!” She stilled and listened, holding her breath. A few seconds of silence, then more footsteps ran past, there and gone in a heartbeat. “Help! I’m trapped in the elevator! Someone please help me!”
No response, no further sounds except the alarms as the shaking lessened and finally stopped.
Emery pulled out her cell phone, the display’s dim illumination a comforting beacon of light in the claustrophobic, absolute darkness, but heard no signal. She crawled toward the corner and stood, using the cell’s light to find the hatch with the emergency phone. She put the receiver to her ear. Dead.
More running footsteps.
“Stop! I need help!” she yelled, and this time the steps faltered.
Someone shouted words she didn’t understand.
“I’m stuck in the elevator! I need help!”
The shaking and rolling began again, even more powerful. Loosened bricks smashed against the
car’s steel roof like a trio of gunshots. Metal screeched against metal, very near. A millisecond seemed like an eternity before a whiplash of cable sang in the shaft.
She was falling.
She lost her footing as the elevator plunged, rapidly gaining speed, then crashed to the floor.
Before the world went black she heard bones snapping and her own screams.
Chapter One
Detroit, Michigan
Sixteen months later, January 2011
Emery Lawson smoothed the butter-soft leather cover of her journal, tracing the outline of the gold-embossed CARPE DIEM she’d had inscribed. Her hands were shaking too much from excitement and exhilaration to make the first entry. She’d wait until she got to Amsterdam, where she would certainly find ample fodder to fill the first blank pages. Closing her eyes, she imagined herself on a terrace overlooking a canal filled with boats, sipping local beer and watching passersby.
She could scarcely believe it was finally happening.
No longer tied in any way to a person, place, or job, she’d cut away all her obligations, like removing the dead tissue around a wound. Painful initially, but necessary for new growth and renewal. She’d sold her home and stored the few possessions too dear to part with. Her friends had expressed both envy and caution. Lisa was still dealing with it all, but Emery knew that one day she, too, would understand and agree that their parting was inevitable.
Everything changed when that elevator fell. During her long recuperation and physical therapy, she’d not only learned to walk again, she’d sprouted wings, and now she was ready to fly. She was heading forth ready to devour life, to savor every experience. She’d been reborn as someone convinced that each day could be her last, every sunset and sunrise the final one she might see.