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)
“Knife’s Edge doesn’t exactly have cell towers every ten feet,” Amka said dryly.
Lorrie, her blonde hair up in a ponytail, cradled her glass like it held answers. “You’re not worried about him? I mean, there’s a killer in those woods.” Her voice cracked on the last.
Amka’s heart hurt for the young widow. “I’m sure Jarod is fine. He likes taking off and camping by himself.” His body was in Anchorage and not even close. “I don’t think he’s anywhere near town.”
A sigh escaped the widow before she could say more. She blinked again, then pointed vaguely at her wineglass. “Can I have more of this? It’s the only thing keeping me upright. I want to just go see my husband, even if he’s in a freezer, but the sheriff won’t let me.”
No doubt seeing the man without his eyes would be traumatic. Amka hesitated. “How would you like some food instead?” She wasn’t Rudolph, but she could throw together a sandwich for the woman.
“She’s fine,” Steve said, already reaching across her to nudge the wine closer. “We’ve got her. I’ll make sure she gets back to Flossy’s in one piece.”
“You’re on your third drink, too,” Amka said, eyeing him.
He smiled. “I function great on three drinks.”
“I’ll be fine,” Lorrie murmured, already halfway through the glass. “Really. Just…I don’t want to feel things tonight. Eli was a great man, and I miss him.”
Nixi finally looked up, resting her chin on her fist. “I’ll make sure she gets to Flossy’s safely.”
Amka hadn’t realized Flossy had an open room. More likely she’d somehow made room for the poor widow. “Thanks, Nixi.” She forced a smile. “I’ll bring another round and some pretzels for you all.”
Nixi nodded, her concerned gaze on Lorrie.
Steve leaned in. “Helene? We should do a collab. Something about insurance and the wilderness. What do you think?”
Amka turned toward the bar, the weight of too many secrets pressing between her shoulder blades. Jarod was dead. Helene was looking in all the wrong directions. The widow was unraveling. And somewhere out there, someone still thought they had fifty grand coming.
And her heart? Her heart was in the woods with a man who barely knew what to do with it.
She had to talk to somebody about the blackmail note, so naturally, she grabbed her phone and texted Christian: NEED TO TALK. TONIGHT. ALONE. IMPORTANT. No emojis. Just the truth.
The reply came fast. I’LL BE THERE BY MIDNIGHT. DON’T LEAVE THE BAR.
No “baby.” No “sweetheart.” Just orders. Protective, infuriating orders that she both hated and kind of wanted. He wouldn’t be so bossy if he didn’t care. Of course, he was all rough and little diamond. But his actions spoke loudly. He’d saved her a few times now, risking his own life each time. That mattered. She dropped the phone and went back to slicing lemons, hand steady now. Of course, her gaze kept sliding to the end of the bar. Her thoughts to what he’d done to her on that burnished wood. She’d blushed the entire time she’d bleached and cleaned it earlier.
And he was coming back at midnight.
Chapter 32
Amka reached for the lemon bucket again and realized, too late, it was already full. She tried to remember filling it. Her brain felt like it had a time delay, like she was working underwater.
She leaned on the bar for a second. Just a second. Her legs buzzed. Her shoulders felt like lead. Her whole body was one big, throbbing mess.
Dutch now slept in his chair by the fire, his chin down, his breath even.
Across the room, Steve told some loud story about a bear and an airhorn. Helene pretended to laugh, but her glass was empty again. Unless she waved, Amka wasn’t refilling it. Lorrie had gone quiet, her eyes dim, and May…May was fully asleep on the bar, arms tucked under her head, a doctor puddle in rumpled scrubs.
Amka glanced at the clock. Christian would be back shortly, and she had every intention of closing down when he arrived.
A tray clattered onto the bar beside her.
“I’ll help,” Nixi said, her purple hair spiked up and her blue eyes surprisingly clear. “You look wrecked.”
Amka looked over at her, startled. “What?”
“You’re toast. I can see it all over you.” Nixi motioned to the tables. “Let me bus. I could use some exercise, and I’m tired of listening to Steve hit on all three of us. The guy is seriously lonely, and that’s just an ick for me.”
Amka opened her mouth to brush off the help, but the words didn’t come. Her throat tightened. She bit back the refusal and gave a slow nod. “Thanks,” she said. “Yeah. I appreciate the help.”
Nixi gave her a small smile, already moving through the bar like she owned the place. Efficient. Graceful. Like she wasn’t wearing the same boots she’d worn to cross three rivers that week, if her last post was to be believed.