Alaskan Fantasy

“It’s too bad you can’t let it out. At least the tree huggers would be off your back.”

“Yeah, but Blalock is pretty rabid about finding oil out there. He was the one who got me hired on in the first place.”

“It would be a big coup to bring in more oil to the country. I wouldn’t think he’d be behind the sabotage, would he? Seems he’d be your best friend.”

“Only if the results are what he wants to see.” Sam pushed a hand through his hair. “Maybe I should pull out of the race altogether. The officials don’t need more of a liability than they already have.” And he didn’t like not knowing who was after him.

“Are you kidding?” Paul’s eyes widened. “You’ve worked as hard as anyone to prepare. No way. You’re going.”

“But if someone is after me, I’ll only bring more trouble to everyone else in the race.”

“Assuming someone is after you. Remember, my sled was next to yours. It could have been mine they meant to get. Especially since I plan to win the race this year.” Paul leaned back and stared at the ceiling. “I wonder who would think they could only beat me by sabotaging my sled. We need to tell Kat. This is just the kind of puzzle she’d like.”

“I’d rather not.” Over the past two years, Sam had studied the pictures scattered around Paul’s log cabin, pictures of Kat fishing, pictures of her with the dogs or behind a sled. Sam felt he knew more about her just from pictures than actually in person. She looked small but tough, feminine yet strong. A product of her upbringing.

Sam couldn’t admit to Paul he’d harbored a secret attraction to Kat after hearing all the stories of their childhood in Alaska. Meeting her hadn’t changed a thing. In fact, his respect grew even more because she didn’t fall apart when Paul came in unconscious. Leanne would have called the ambulance and wrung her hands, carefully so as not to damage the expensive manicure.

No, Kat was down-to-earth and tough. From what Paul had told him, she had to be. She was in a dangerous business in some secret government organization. Paul had compared it to the CIA.

Sam suspected her job might be with the Stealth Operations Specialists, the business he’d been in while working in D.C. He could find out with a single phone call to Royce, but he refused to make contact with his old life.

Getting on with the S.O.S. wasn’t easy. Kat had to have earned her position there for a reason and it wasn’t based on her appearance. Although she’d left the room, Sam could still picture her jet-black hair as full and rich as Paul’s and eyes as blue as glacier ice in the sunlight. If looks were all it took to get the job, she’d have gotten it hands down.

The woman foremost in his thoughts stepped through the door carrying two cups of coffee. She handed one to Sam and smiled. “Thought you could use a jolt.” The smile transformed her otherwise serious face into a softer, more feminine version of her brother.

Sam got the feeling she hadn’t smiled much over the past year. He remembered when Paul had flown out to D.C. to be with Kat at her husband’s funeral a year ago. Had Marty been an agent, as well? Paul had come back saying Kat was okay, but Sam could tell Paul worried about his only sibling. And rightly so, judging by the dark circles beneath her eyes.

“Thanks.” When he took the cup from her, their hands collided and an electric jolt speared through his system.

Kat’s gaze shot up to his and just as quickly turned away. “Mind if I turn the television on?”

“Go ahead.” Paul adjusted his pillow behind his head. “The local station is airing stories on each of the race contestants. Maybe we can size up the competition.”

“You don’t think you’re racing still, do you?” Kat’s brows rose and a hand fisted on her hip.

Paul’s smile faded. He looked like a boy being told he can’t go out to play. “My dogs are ready for this race. They deserve to participate.”

“Maybe so, but we haven’t even heard from the doctor. I don’t think you can stand for twelve to fifteen days on that ankle.”

Paul crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m not ruling it out until the doctor tells me different.”

Sam would have smiled at the argument if he hadn’t been so disturbed by his reaction to Kat’s simple touch. He’d only just met the woman.

“They’re kinda cute, aren’t they?” Tazer leaned close to Sam, a grin playing across her model-perfect face.

She was gorgeous, but she reminded Sam too much of Leanne. He was immune to her kind of beauty. “Yes, she is,” Sam responded. As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he realized his mistake.

Tazer’s lips twitched, but that was the only acknowledgment of Sam’s slip. “Kat’s had a rough time of things.” Her gaze swept to the woman arguing with her brother.

Sam took the opportunity to study Tazer while she wasn’t looking in his direction. Did she work with Kat? Was she also an agent with the S.O.S.—assuming that was where Kat worked?

Though Sam wanted to ask all the questions spinning around in his mind, guilt nudged at his conscience. He didn’t feel right talking about Kat with her standing only a few short steps away, but he couldn’t help asking, “Is she still grieving for her husband?” He tried to tell himself he only cared out of mild curiosity.

“A little. I think his death shook her more than even she’ll admit. Since then, she’s been in a fog, like she doesn’t know what she wants out of life. I’m glad she decided to come home.” Tazer nodded toward Paul. “She needed her family.”

Her family was still arguing with her. “My dogs will be in that race if I have to strap myself to the sled. I’m going.”

Kat planted both fists on her hips, twin flags of red rising in her cheeks. “You couldn’t drive the sled with a good foot, much less a broken one, otherwise you wouldn’t be in the hospital now.”

Sam’s pulse quickened. This Kat was like a mama bear ready to take on the world to protect her cub. The determined stance and the heightened color made her even more beautiful than the pictures he’d stared at on the wall of her home.

“Tell her, Sam,” Paul demanded.

He didn’t want to be dragged into their domestic dispute. “Tell her what?”

“Tell her it wasn’t my fault.” Paul waved him forward. “Tell her why I crashed.”

For some reason he couldn’t fathom, he didn’t want to get into the details of the accident. He resisted becoming another case to Kat. She was here on vacation, not to play investigative agent for a little prerace sabotage. Besides, Sam was fully qualified and capable of conducting his own investigation.

Kat’s gaze pinned him, her eyes narrowing to slits. “Yes, please. Tell me why my brother crashed.”

The direct look caught him off guard and he replied without hesitation. “The stanchions had been cut.”

Her surprised gasp turned into an angry frown. “What did you say?”

In a flat tone, devoid of emotion, he explained, “The struts holding the runners to the brushbow were cut at the base. It took a couple jolts and a sharp curve before they broke completely.”

Paul crossed his arms over his chest and smiled. “I just happened to be on it at the time. So you see, it wasn’t my fault.”

Kat stared from Paul to Sam. “Who would do such a thing?”

Sam raised his hands. “I didn’t. It was actually my sled that was cut. Paul was trying it out at the time.”

“You’re telling me this was deliberate?” The intensity of her gaze held his steady.

Sam nodded, his gut clenching at the memory of Paul lying unconscious at the bottom of the riverbank.

“Who would do such a thing?” she repeated with more righteous indignation, her blue eyes blazing.

“Looks like we’re having a party in here,” the doctor said from the open doorway. “Mind if I speak to the patient in private?”

“No, of course not,” Kat said, yet she made no move to leave. As Sam passed her, she grabbed his arm. “We’re not through talking about this.”

That jolt struck him again. “Count on it.” Sam stepped out into the hallway, shaking his arm as if he could shake free of the feeling of Kat’s fingers touching him so easily.

“So, Sam, who’s got it in for you?” Tazer joined him in the hospital corridor, closing the door behind her.

“Any number of people. I’m a geologist working oil exploration in the interior. People will either love what I’m doing, or hate it. No one straddles the fence.”