Alaskan Fantasy

Kat’s tears pushed closer to the surface as she managed to choke out, “My lead dog.”

“If you don’t mind, I’d like to go in and climb into a cup of really hot coffee.” Tazer stamped her feet in the snow.

“No, please. Vic will show you to your room. I’ll join you for coffee in a few.” Kat took off around the side of the house, knowing if she didn’t, she’d break down in front of Tazer.

As she approached the rows of doghouses, a light sensor triggered the outside flood lamp and a familiar, furry face lifted from his paws. As soon as Loki saw her, he leaped to his feet and barked, his body twisting and shaking in his excitement.

Kat dropped to her knees before the Alaskan husky launched himself into her arms, licking her face and whining at the same time.

Swallowing past the lump in her throat, Kat couldn’t hold back any longer. She wrapped her arms around Loki’s neck, buried her face in his thick black-and-white fur and let the past year wash over her in a tsunami of emotions.

Visions of Marty laughing among the group at the S.O.S. office in D.C., Marty on their wedding day when they’d flown to Atlantic City to get married, and the last time she’d seen him alive as he boarded the plane to Dindi. He’d kissed her goodbye and tapped her beneath the chin. “See ya in a few.”

The only time he’d ever mentioned the L-word had been when he’d promised to love, honor and cherish her until death do us part. And death had parted them only a year after their whirlwind courtship and marriage. Sometimes Kat wondered if they really had been married. A year in the life of an S.O.S. agent was short. With the dangerous work they did, flying all over the world, they’d barely seen each other.

She’d loved him hard, as if each day would be the last. And she felt the pain of his loss no less than if they’d been married fifty years. But she’d learned one thing. Love hurt too much to invest in a second time. “Oh, Loki, it’s so good to be home.”

“Hey!” A voice called out from somewhere down the hill at the rear of the house. “Hey! Help!”

Kat’s head jerked up and she scrubbed the tears from her eyes before she could see a team of dogs and a sled in the moonlight coming across the clearing behind the house. The team was twice as long as the usual team. The sled had a large lump sprawled across it, and a man with a voice she didn’t recognize behind it.

From across the clearing, the man yelled, “Call an ambulance! Paul’s hurt!”

Chapter Two

Sam leaned against the wall of the crisp, clean hospital room, awaiting his chance to speak to Paul alone.

Kat leaned over her brother and pressed a kiss to his cheek. Her dark hair slid across his chest in a cloud of ebony waves. “I’m going to get some coffee.” Kat tucked the blanket up around Paul’s shoulders.

“About time,” he grumbled. “You’d think I was dying or something with everyone hanging around like vultures ready to pick my bones clean.”

“Come on, Tazer. Let’s get that coffee we promised you hours ago before my inconsiderate brother decided to play the kamikaze musher.”

Paul threw an empty pill cup at her. “Out!”

Kat grabbed Tazer’s arm and ducked through the open door.

“See what I have to put up with? I practically kill myself and she thinks I did it on purpose.” Paul shook his head, a grin teasing the corners of his lips.

Sam envied the camaraderie between brother and sister. He let the good vibes chase away the bad as he steeled himself to tell Paul what really happened back on the trail.

By the time Emergency Medical Services arrived, Paul had regained consciousness and insisted he was fine. But because he’d been unconscious and there seemed to be damage to his ankle, they’d hauled him to the hospital. Kat rode alongside him in the back of the ambulance.

Sam stayed behind, insisting Vic and Tazer join Paul at the hospital. He’d taken the snowmobile and gone back out on the trail to retrieve his sled.

When he brought it back to the barn and gotten a good look at it, his heart ran as cold as the frozen river Paul had fallen on.

“What’s wrong?” Paul asked, breaking into Sam’s reverie. “Look, I must have been too close to the edge. It’s not your fault I crashed.”

“In a way it was.”

Paul shook his head, a teasing look lifting the corners of his mouth. “I insisted on taking your sled. Apparently I wasn’t ready for its superior speed and maneuverability.”

“Paul, you don’t understand.” Sam held up a hand, stopping Paul’s attempt to make him feel better about something that should never have happened. “That crash was no accident.”

“What do you mean?” Paul punched the button adjusting the head of the bed upward.

“The stanchions had been cut clean through.”

Silence followed as Paul’s forehead wrinkled into a deep frown. “You sure they didn’t break in the crash?”

“No, they were sawed at the base except a tiny piece to hold it temporarily.” Sam’s mouth tightened. “Someone did it deliberately. Someone who knew what to cut that wouldn’t be obvious.”

“Why?” Paul pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose.

“I don’t know, but that crash was intended for me, not you.” Sam jammed his hands into his pockets and paced across the room and back.

“Assuming you’re right and someone actually sabotaged your sled, it could just as easily have been mine. Yours sits next to mine in the barn.”

“Correct, but everyone in Anchorage likes you.” It was true. Sam hadn’t met a soul in the city who had a bad word to say about Paul. “I’m the outsider stirring up trouble for the state.”

“I bust people all the time. It could have been someone I put in jail,” Paul argued.

“Yeah, but you don’t have an entire political venue riding on your work.” Or a past that might have caught up to him. Sam shrugged the thought away. No. He’d assumed a different identity when he’d left the agency. No one knew him by his new name or where he was except his old boss, Royce. As far as Sam was concerned, Russell Samson no longer existed. His old employer had helped him change all his records, even arranging for his name to be altered on his social-security card and Stanford University diploma to reflect his new identity.

“You’re a geologist, not a politician, for Pete’s sake.” Paul scooted into an upright sitting position, wincing as he moved.

“That ankle still hurt?” Sam asked.

“Yeah.” The dark-haired man’s lips twisted. “I’m waiting for the doctor to come back with the results of the X-rays.”

“Think he’ll bar you from the race?” Sam wished he hadn’t let Paul borrow his sled. None of this would have happened—at least not to Paul.

Paul’s forehead creased in a frown. “He’d better not. I’ve invested too much time and money to be excluded.” Paul glanced up. “Any of your dogs injured?”

It was just like Paul to worry about the dogs more than himself. “No. They were fine. A little spooked, but once I untangled their necklines, they were raring to climb back up on the trail and run.”

“Who would tamper with your sled?” Paul’s brows furrowed. “Do you think it was another race contestant?”

“I can’t imagine another musher considering me any kind of threat. I’m a complete rookie at mushing.” Sam shook his head, the scent of alcohol and disinfectant starting to make his stomach churn. “However, I have so many people mad at me about the study, it could be anyone.” His work in the interior had people up in arms on both sides of the political fence. On one side were those who wanted to open up more of the Alaskan interior to roads and progress. On the other side, the environmentalists were fighting tooth and nail to leave it relatively untouched.

“When do you head back to Washington?” Paul asked.

“After the race.” A smile lifted his lips. “Senator Blalock is chomping at the bit to complete the study and get on with making a decision about oil production in the interior.”

“Have you let on to anyone about the results?” Paul leaned forward. “You think the word leaked out?”

“I kept a pretty tight rein on the information. Blalock got a heads-up that the samples weren’t good. Unless he let it slip to some bonehead in Washington, I don’t know who else would know.”