by Susan Cliff
“Just a hunch. Go on.”
“We stayed together for a few more months. He flew into another jealous rage and hid my purse so I couldn’t go anywhere. I realized things weren’t going to get better. The next time he hit me, I hit him back.”
“What happened?”
She touched her face, remembering. “I bloodied his nose. I don’t think he expected that, and he got really mad. He knocked me out. As soon as I could move, I packed a bag. I left in the middle of the night while he was sleeping.”
“How did you get to Alaska?”
“I stowed away in a trailer.”
“You’re kidding.”
“No. I wasn’t planning on leaving Canada. I thought the trucker was going south. Instead he went west, and here I am.”
“Are you here illegally?”
She shook her head. “Have you ever heard of the Jay Treaty?”
“No.”
“It allows First Nations people the right to come to the US from Canada and vice versa. There’s really no such thing as an undocumented Indian, but I don’t have my tribal card or any ID to prove my status. I left everything in Canada.’
“I’m glad you escaped.”
“So am I.”
She looked away, contemplative. Cam didn’t seem to think less of her for having an abusive husband. She knew it wasn’t her fault, but a part of her felt responsible for what had happened. She should have been smarter, and more aware of Duane’s true nature. She shouldn’t have rushed into marriage. She should have identified the threat sooner.
Tala closed her eyes to clear the bad memories. Her relationship with Duane was over. She’d left him, and she’d never have to suffer his abuse again.
Unfortunately, she’d traded up as far as personal problems went. Now she had to worry about the other men she was running from.
Goose bumps broke out across her flesh. She’d kicked off the blankets in the throes of her nightmare. Her legs were bare and cold. So was Cam’s chest, she realized with a start. She’d been too distressed to notice that before. The faint glow of the fire revealed an intimate scene. They were in bed together, close enough to touch. He was shirtless, his torso outlined against the pale sheets. She was wearing his flannel without a stitch underneath. She tugged the comforter back into place, flushing.
“I should let you sleep,” Cam said.
“Don’t go,” she whispered. “Please.”
He glanced in her direction, brow furrowed. He seemed uncomfortable with her proximity, and was possibly confused about what she wanted from him. Tala struggled to pinpoint it herself. She knew he was hung up on his wife, and not interested in sex. Or not interested in her. Whatever his reasons, she felt safe with him.
She wouldn’t drag him into her problems, but she could ask him for one small thing. “Will you...hold me?”
He drew in a ragged breath, as if tortured by the thought.
“Just until I fall asleep,” she said, to make her wishes clear. “Nothing more.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
She searched his features in the dark, uncertain what he meant. His eyes glinted with something she’d seen before. Something he’d been trying to hide. The desire she’d sensed earlier flared between them, like a new spark.
He wasn’t so disinterested.
She altered her request. “Can I hold you?”
After a short hesitation, he rolled onto his side, facing away from her. She hugged his back, spoon-style. It was the best of both worlds. She could cuddle him and enjoy the simple pleasure of human touch without worrying about him getting aroused. He could lay there and be her teddy bear, no strings attached.
She slipped her arm around him and closed her eyes. He was warm and hard-muscled. Solidly built, like a protective shield. She could feel his heartbeat under her palm, strong and sure. He covered her hand with his and linked their fingers together. Her throat tightened with emotion. She hadn’t felt peace or contentment in such a long time. His presence filled an empty place inside her she hadn’t known was there.
She savored him for as long as she could before she fell asleep.
Chapter 6
December 12
65N
-5 degrees
Cam got dressed in the dark.
He pulled on his jeans over thermal underwear and shoved his feet into steel-toed boots. His long-sleeved T-shirt provided minimal warmth against the morning chill, but he didn’t grab his jacket. He wanted to feel the cold bite of winter, and he did. It had snowed overnight. Powder crunched beneath his soles as he crossed the dark, deserted parking lot. Frosty air filled his lungs and penetrated his clothing.
He made his way toward the front office, which was open but unmanned. The smell of fresh-brewed coffee awaited him. He helped himself to two cups. He didn’t know if Tala liked cream and sugar, so he grabbed packets of both.
“There’s oatmeal,” Ann said, emerging from another room.
He glanced at the cooking pot next to the carafe. His stomach growled with interest, but his hands were already full. “I’ll come back for it.”
“I can deliver two bowls to your cabin.”
A flush crept up his neck at the thought of Ann coming to his door and catching a glimpse of Tala in his bed. He felt like a teenager who didn’t want his mom to find out his girlfriend had slept over. “No need.”
Ann smiled at his quick response. “Thanks for splitting logs.”
“I enjoy the work.”
She nodded, and he escaped the cozy space in a hurry. He had no reason to be embarrassed. He hadn’t done anything wrong. He’d slept next to Tala without crossing the line. Even if their night hadn’t been innocent, so what? Surely Ann had seen worse in her days as innkeeper. Drunken hookups, seedy affairs, hard partying. She wouldn’t blink an eye at Cam’s pretty young guest. Unless she assumed he was married, which might be the case. He was still wearing his wedding ring.
He winced at the oversight. He’d put it on again a few weeks ago, after a disastrous Thanksgiving at his parents’ house. His mother had invited one of Jenny’s friends—one of her single friends—in a clear attempt at matchmaking. He’d left as soon as possible, claiming he had an important delivery.
Women had flirted with him before, and he’d felt nothing. No whisper of temptation. No need to armor himself with proof of his lack of availability. This time was different. He hadn’t been interested in Jenny’s friend. He’d thought of the waitress at Walt’s Diner, someone he hardly knew, and he’d been struck by a wave of intense longing, mixed with sorrow. It hit him like an avalanche, knocking him off-balance. He’d found his ring and slipped it on. He’d needed a protective shield, because his attraction to the waitress had triggered new pain. His grief had felt staggering, insurmountable.
That was the problem with moving on. It hurt more than standing still.
He took the coffee to the cabin and set the cups down on the mantel by the fire. He poked the ashes and added some wood. Tala stirred at the sound. She sat up in bed with an abruptness that suggested she’d forgotten where she was. Her gaze connected with his, and recognition dawned. She returned to a reclining position, her trepidation fading.
She trusted him not to try anything sexual. Which made sense, he supposed, because he’d kept his hands to himself all night. But if she could’ve read his thoughts in the wee hours of the morning—or right now, for that matter—she wouldn’t look so relaxed. Because he wanted to climb into bed with her. He wanted to kiss away the hurt her husband had caused and show her how a real man treated a woman.
Heat crept up his neck at the thought. Of course he wasn’t going to make a move on her. He wasn’t ready for that kind of intimacy. He was still wearing his wedding ring. The only way to stay numb was to keep his distance.
“I brought you a coffee,” he said. “Do you want oa
tmeal?”
She nodded, rising to her feet. She looked rumpled and sexy in his flannel shirt. Her eyes were sleepy, her legs a mile long. When she tugged on the fabric to make sure she was covered, he averted his gaze. He knew she was bare beneath it. He’d seen her pale blue panties hanging in the bathroom. He’d touched them this morning—to see if they were dry. To feel the silky material and imagine it against her skin.
After she went into the bathroom, he released a slow breath. He needed to get a grip before he embarrassed himself. He cleared his throat and left the cabin, sucking in the cold air. There were two servings of oatmeal in disposable cups with lids at the front desk. He carried them back to the room, plastic spoons in hand. Tala was sitting by the fire, sipping coffee. They shared a simple hot breakfast in silence.
He wasn’t eager to get on the road again, despite his discomfort in her presence. He wanted to make sure she was safe before he left town. He hadn’t expected to be so concerned about her welfare, but they were in an unusual situation. They’d spent the past twenty-four hours together. They’d shared personal stories. They’d even held hands.
Cam might be numb, but he wasn’t dead. His protective instincts were working overtime. So was his libido, if he was being honest.
“Do you have another load to deliver?” she asked.
He nodded. “I’m supposed to pick it up this morning.”
“What direction are you headed?”
“North, on the Dalton.”
It wasn’t a trip she could take with him. The Dalton Highway was the deadliest stretch of road in Alaska. There were almost no facilities, and constant obstacles. Whiteouts, avalanches, ice patches, snowdrifts.
“You could stay here,” he said, on impulse.
“In Fairbanks?”
“In this cabin.”
Her lips parted with surprise. She hadn’t expected him to make this offer. That made two of them.
“I know the owner of this place, like I said. She might hire you.”
“To split logs?”
“Or for lighter work.”
“I can handle heavy work.”
He believed her.
“The owner is a woman?”
“Yes.”
“How well do you know her?”
Cam rubbed a hand over his jaw. “Her husband was a trucker. He died on the Dalton. Since then, I’ve been coming around to do chores for her.”
“Do you really trade services?”
“She gives me a discount. Also, I like it.”
“You like helping women?”
“I like splitting logs.”
She studied his face with skepticism. “Is there anything else you enjoy doing for her?”
He smiled at her question. “Like what?”
“You know what.”
“She’s pushing seventy. My generosity doesn’t extend quite that far.”
Tala set her coffee mug aside. “These cabins aren’t cheap. Even if she hired me, I couldn’t afford to stay here.”
“I can afford it.”
She shook her head in refusal. She wouldn’t allow herself to depend on him, or anyone else, and it pissed him off. She had no belongings, no money, no job, no resources. She didn’t even have a change of clothes. But she’d rather strike out on her own than kick back in this cozy cabin on his dime.
What was wrong with her? What was wrong with him, for that matter?
He should never have given her a ride in the first place. His contract prohibited picking up hitchhikers. She was clearly in trouble with the law. He should be cutting her loose, not trying to keep her around. He didn’t understand what he was doing. He’d made a series of bad decisions upon meeting her. Emotional decisions that threatened his current, stark existence. He’d brought her inside his rig to get warm, and warmed himself in the process.
If he wasn’t careful, the protective layer of ice he’d been hibernating under would thaw. Then the real pain would come.
“At least let me buy you a change of clothes,” he said. She had nothing to wear. He wasn’t leaving her on a street corner without any pants. “I have to go to Walmart and get some supplies anyway.”
She nodded her agreement and ducked into the bathroom to get ready. She had to borrow his sweatpants. Even with the drawstring tightened, they rode low on her hips. Her black waitress shoes were for indoor use only. She needed warm clothes and winter boots no matter what her future plans were. She couldn’t job-hunt in her old uniform, or his pajamas.
The big-box store was about five miles away. He parked on the outskirts of the lot and accompanied Tala inside. He grabbed a cart, swamped by memories of Jenny. Their Sunday shopping trips. Rainy mornings in Seattle. They’d been good together. They’d been content.
He headed toward the women’s clothing department, where Tala browsed the racks. She selected black leggings and an oversize sweatshirt. When he gestured for her to continue, she added a pair of jeans to the cart. They strolled through another section with packages of socks and underwear. She chose basic white cotton, seeming embarrassed.
“That’s all you want?” he asked.
“You don’t have to buy the whole store.”
“This is Walmart. Everything’s cheap.”
“I’m going to owe you.”
“Consider it a gift.”
“No,” she said, her face solemn. “I’ll pay you back.”
Warmth suffused his chest at her assertion. He admired her pride, even though he cursed her stubbornness. The thought of reuniting with her after he returned from the Dalton appealed to him—and not because he wanted to collect on a debt. He’d like to see her again, despite his wariness toward women, and his general misgivings about the trouble she was in.
“You should let me introduce you to Ann,” he said.
She continued walking alongside him, not answering. It was a good sign, he supposed. She hadn’t refused outright. They found the shoe racks. He left his cart at the end of the aisle and accompanied her on the search for practical footwear.
“You know what you said about moving on?” she asked.
“Yeah.”
“I have to do that, too. I have to keep moving.”
“You’re running away from your problems.”
“And you aren’t?”
He didn’t answer. Of course he was. They both were.
“If you stay in the same place, your past catches up with you.” She turned to study the opposite side of the aisle. “When I first came to Alaska, I went from town to town. I hitchhiked here and there. I didn’t feel safe unless I was on the go. It took me almost a month to settle down in Willow.”
It was on the tip of his tongue to tell her that she didn’t have to run anymore. He could help her. He used to be a cop. His brother was still a cop. Cam could make some inquiries about her husband. He could probably have the guy arrested, with or without Tala’s cooperation. Cam didn’t extend the offer, because he sensed it wouldn’t go over well. She didn’t trust the police, obviously. She wouldn’t trust him if she knew he’d been a patrol officer.
He also had his own issues with faith and justice. And family, for that matter. Calling his brother would open him up to uncomfortable questions. He’d disconnected from everyone in Washington. He hadn’t spoken to Mason since Thanksgiving.
He massaged the nape of his neck, feeling guilty. It was better to keep his secrets and protect his privacy. Stay distant. Stay numb.
She reached into a large box on a lower shelf and fished out a pair of sturdy black boots. They looked warm and practical, with faux fur trim. She sat down on the floor to try them on. “They fit.”
He grunted his approval. “What else do you need?”
She walked back and forth to test the comfort of the boots. Then she removed them. “This is more than enough, Cam.”
/> “You don’t have to pay me back.”
“I want to. How long will you be on the Dalton?”
“Three days, maybe.”
“Do you have a cell phone?”
“Of course, but there’s no service. You can leave a message.”
“Give me the number.”
He handed her a business card with his information. She tucked it into the front pocket of his flannel.
“You can go to the cabin anytime. I’ll tell Ann to run a tab.”
She nodded, avoiding his gaze. He didn’t press, because he was afraid to scare her off. Maybe she’d call him in a few days. Maybe she’d rethink his offer to stay at the cabins. She had nowhere else to go, after all.
They headed toward the front of the store together. She added a couple of travel-size toiletries to the cart, along with a simple canvas backpack. He didn’t really need any supplies, but he grabbed a few boxes of snacks. The store was busier now, at the start of the morning rush. He paid for the items in cash.
“I’ll change here,” she said, gesturing to the restrooms.
He went to wait for her near the entrance. There was an in-store restaurant with a café. He sat down at an empty booth. A mounted TV in the upper corner displayed local news. He listened to the weather report with interest. There was snow in the forecast, as usual. Then a photograph of Tala flashed across the screen.
Cam’s blood froze at the sight. Newscasters launched into a story of a missing waitress from Walt’s in Willow. The photo of Tala appeared again. It had been taken at the diner, probably by a patron. Tala was standing at the counter next to Walt.
The caption under her face read “Abigail Burgess.”
Viewers were asked to call a number for the Willow Police Department if they had any information. The segment lasted sixty seconds at the most. He blinked and it was gone, like a figment of his imagination.
Abigail. Abigail?
He tried to remember hearing her name in the diner, or over the radio. The other truckers used terms like “honey” or “cutie” for an attractive waitress. Tala was a distinctive name, and he wouldn’t have forgotten it. She must have lied to him. He was disappointed, but not particularly surprised, by the realization.