Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 105868 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105868 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
Christian’s broad shoulders relaxed. “Can we wear boots?”
A couple of men at the bar chuckled quietly at that.
“Honey, you can wear whatever you want,” Amka called back, moving down the bar to refill a glass. “Wait. I take that back. No flip-flops.”
“I would not wear flip-flops,” Christian said flatly.
“Brock would,” Damian added.
Brock coughed. “I would not.”
“What else can we do?” Ace asked, directing the question toward Amka.
“Not much. May is going to take pictures and be in the wedding, and I think Ophelia and Daisy are already planning how to decorate.” Amka looked at Brock. “We’re thinking about closing all of Main Street, if that’s okay with the sheriff.”
“Sure,” Brock said. “We can block off both ends. That’s no big deal.”
“Thank you.” Amka smiled, and even from across the room, the relief in it was visible.
“You need to sit down and rest,” Christian said again.
“I am not tired,” she replied slowly.
Brock puffed out a breath. “It’s gonna be a long nine months.”
Christian muttered something under his breath, and Ace bit back a smile.
Daisy popped up beside their table, her hair in its usual wild halo. “Sorry about the wait, guys. What can I get you all?” She looked directly at Ace.
“Just coffee,” he said.
All three of his brothers stilled and looked at him.
“Ditto,” Brock said after a beat.
Christian glanced toward the bar. “I would actually like decaf, if you have it.”
Damian considered. “I’ll take a 7Up.”
Ace found loyalty all around him. “You guys, just because I’m not drinking doesn’t mean you can’t have alcohol.”
“I’m on duty,” Brock said.
“I don’t drink that much anyway,” Christian added, which was true.
“I have to drive back out to EVE,” Damian said. “The roads are muddy.”
Gratitude rose in Ace then, full and warm. These were his brothers, and this was what it looked like when they closed ranks without making a show of it.
Daisy snorted. “Crap, Ace. You quit drinking? We’re going to lose half our income.”
He shot her a look.
She winked and flounced away toward the bar.
“All right.” Damian reached into his briefcase and pulled out a file folder, placing it on the table between them. The casual tone shifted almost imperceptibly. “This is what else I found out.”
“What’s that?” Brock asked.
Ace pulled the file closer and flipped it open. “Whoa.”
“Yeah,” Damian said.
Ace scanned the first page, then the next, his jaw tightening.
Well?” Brock pushed. “What is it?”
“Apparently,” Damian said, “when good old Senator Mercer was in college, his girlfriend—”
“Ex-girlfriend,” Ace said, reading. “Went missing and was never found again.”
The fire snapped loudly, and for a second nobody spoke.
“Seriously?” Brock leaned in. “Did he have an alibi?”
“Yeah,” Damian said. “Pretty solid. He was at a fraternity formal across town, and there were plenty of witnesses and photos to back it up.”
Ace closed the file. “Where was good old Senator Mercer when a college student was murdered here a couple nights ago?”
“Showing what a natural he is in the Alaskan wilderness,” Damian answered. “He was doing live social media events and even taking questions.”
“You think his staffers would lie for him?” Brock asked.
Damian shrugged. “It’d be hard to fake live shots, but I guess it’s possible.”
“Speaking of that mess,” Ace said, shifting the file back toward Damian, “are you guys anywhere on that case?”
“Nope,” Brock said. “Though I can tell you your place was cleared. So was your truck. You should be getting the Ford back.”
“Good.” The word came out rougher than Ace intended. The last few days had felt like walking around with a target pinned to his back. He wanted whoever killed that girl found. Fast.
“We need more CCTV on the shops and buildings in town,” Brock said.
Christian shook his head immediately. “Not in a million years. Nobody’s going to go for that. We live in Alaska for a reason, Brock. People like not being watched.”
“I’m with Brock,” Damian said evenly.
Ace looked from one to the other. “I’m with Christian. We don’t want to turn into a city.”
“Yeah, but if we had CCTV, we could at least tell who left with that girl or who followed her,” Brock said grimly.
He wasn’t wrong. Before Ace could answer, the front door opened and a draft of cool evening air rolled across the floor. Ophelia stepped inside, scanning the room. She waved at Amka behind the bar and then made a beeline for them.
“Hey.” Brock pushed back from the table and tugged her down onto his lap like it was the most natural thing in the world.
“Brock,” she protested, though she was already settling in.
He tucked her closer. “What do you know?” he asked quietly.
“Not much,” she admitted. “The troopers are being real tight-lipped. I tried to have a sit-down with them earlier and they were complete buttheads about it.”
“Sorry about that,” Christian said.
“I called Dutch,” Brock added. “He’s on a case outside of Fairbanks.”
Ophelia took the file off the table. “What’s this?” She started to read. “Interesting.”