Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 103665 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 518(@200wpm)___ 415(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103665 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 518(@200wpm)___ 415(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
“Then we’ll shoot back,” May said. Her hair was up in a crooked ponytail now, still wet, drying in uneven curls around her ears. Her eyes were clear, stubborn.
“You’re a good friend. But no,” Amka said.
“I’ve got her,” Christian said. His voice rumbled low and steady.
A shiver passed through Amka. Not from the cold. Not from the rain. Something in his voice—the tone didn’t seek permission. “I don’t need a bodyguard.”
“Too bad. You’ve got one,” Christian muttered. He glanced at his brother. The firelight caught the side of Brock’s face, showing that strong Osprey bone structure. “At first light, I’ll bring her over to your place, Brock,” Christian said. “Ophelia can keep an eye on her while we check out what’s left of that truck trail, although I don’t have a lot of hope.”
“I don’t need to be watched,” Amka said. Her spine locked straight as the words came out.
Christian swung his attention to her. “The fuck you don’t.”
Her mouth opened, stunned. She had never heard Christian Osprey swear. Or if he had, never at her.
His eyes glittered now. Not soft. Not gentle. Protective and sharp-edged. “I’ve given you the plan.”
Brock’s dark brows pulled low. “No offense, but I am the sheriff here.”
Christian shifted in his chair, still holding Amka’s gaze. “I might’ve forgotten to tell you. I just took a job with the Alaska Wildlife Troopers.”
Amka blinked. The words didn’t register right away. Christian didn’t say things like that. He didn’t make announcements. He sure the heck didn’t sign up for a career.
Brock stilled. His surprise broke through the usual blankness in his face. “No shit?”
“Yeah,” Christian said, lifting one shoulder. “Dutch is planning to retire and wants someone to take over the territory. I’m a civilian consultant for now. Training’s in July. I think I have to take a test next week, too.”
Brock clapped him on the back. The sound cracked across the table. “That’s fantastic. You’re perfect for that job, Christian.” He was still looking at his brother, like he was seeing him differently. “You’re the kind of guy who just steps out of the woods and people don’t even know you were standing there. Like the trees made space for you. Ghosts. Seriously—perfect.”
“Thanks.” Christian pushed away from the table, chair legs scraping hard. There wasn’t anything relaxed about the movement. The conversation had closed around him, and Amka felt it. Felt the space he left behind get colder by degrees.
Her coffee had gone cold in her hands.
“Let’s go, Amka,” Christian said. He wasn’t asking.
Chapter 13
The rain hadn’t let up. It came harder now, bringing spring in with a vengeance and not a breeze. The wipers slammed across the windshield, fast, loud, unrelenting. Visibility was garbage. The wind whistled through the shattered back window.
Christian drove her SUV up the river road like he could see fine. No music, no talking. Just engine noise and rain.
Amka curled into herself in the passenger seat with the heat on full blast. Her boots were soaked, and her coat dripped where it bunched at her sides. She couldn’t get warm. The vents blew hot against her legs, but her hands still felt like ice. “Thank you.” Had she ever been this exhausted? The man kept saving her, though. “For what you did earlier.”
He grunted.
Of course.
He drove past the turnoff to her house.
“Hey,” she said. “You missed my driveway.”
“No, I didn’t.”
She sat up straighter. “Christian?”
His hands stayed locked on the wheel. His eyes never left the road. Trees leaned in from both sides, wind snapping their tops.
She tried to concentrate. “Where are we going?”
“I have a place.”
The words sat between them. No more, no less.
She stared at him. His hands looked too big for the wheel. “What do you mean, you have a place?” So much for her thought that he didn’t have a home and bunked out wherever. Maybe he was more together than she’d thought. “Christian?”
Nothing.
The dark outside got thicker. The cab of the SUV shrank. Her pulse crawled up the back of her throat. “Christian.”
Still no response.
Fear hit like a wave, then anger rode in behind it, sharper, cleaner. “Answer me,” she snapped, her voice high and sharp.
He looked at her. Just a glance. “You’re safe.”
“That is so not good enough,” she said. “I’m tired of the grunting and the quiet, the whatever. When I ask you a question, I want an answer, considering you’re driving my car and taking me somewhere I don’t know. Where are we going?”
“I told you. I have a place.” He turned his gaze back to the road.
She might actually punch him. “I want to go to my house,” she said through gritted teeth.
“No.”
No? Just no? Fury actually heated her. Finally. She clenched her hand into a fist.
“I wouldn’t,” he said calmly.
Her eyes narrowed. Her hand was tucked against the door. Out of sight. “How did you know?” Maybe everybody wanted to punch him and he was just guessing.