Alaskan Fantasy

A large white van armed with satellite dishes, antennas and the bright red logo of the local Anchorage television station stood to one side. A cameraman and female reporter watched for the next contestant.

A sled pulled in behind Sam and, as if on cue, the reporter pushed the hair out of her face and the scarf away from her mouth before turning to the cameraman.

“What’s all that about?” Sam asked.

“Looks like Al Fendley’s team.” Vic shook his head. “Never fails, he manages to get the best press for the race.”

Paul studied the man in the showy yellow parka, smiling broadly and stepping from the runners of his sled like a movie actor on set. “’Course, it doesn’t hurt to get free publicity for your business.”

The name sounded familiar, but Sam couldn’t place it. “What does he do?”

“He and his brother, Warren, run a summer lodge and dogsled training camp outside of Denali Park. They also have a hunting-outfitter business in the interior.” Vic brushed the snow off his gloves. “Al got a name for himself when he won the race two years ago.”

Paul glanced across at Al. “I hear one of the other mushers fell out of the race when his dogs got sick that year.”

“Tough break,” Sam said. “It’s a long race. I can imagine the dogs take a beating over the eleven hundred miles.”

“Not when you’re neck in neck, only a day out from the finish line and your brother is one of the folks helping with the food drops.” Vic’s gaze collided with Paul’s. “Rumor had it the dogs were slipped a mild poison at one of the checkpoints. The Fendley boys take winning seriously.”

After a narrow-eyed glance at Al, Paul turned his attention to Sam. “Take care out there. You’re a long way from civilization if anything happens.”

Sam knew the dangers of the Iditarod. “I’d better get going.”

“Oh, before you go.” Tazer stepped up to Sam. “Kat wanted me to give you something.”

His hand went out automatically and jerked back when she tried to place a radio and headset into his gloved palm. “What the hell is it?”

“A two-way radio and voice-activated mic. You two can keep in touch in case you have trouble on the trail.”

“No way.” He recognized the standard-issue radio from his days working for the S.O.S. He’d given up that life long ago and he didn’t intend to go back. Still, he shouldn’t have reacted so strongly. Sam’s lips pressed into a tight line. “I’m not interested.”

“In the radio or Kat?”

He glared at the woman. “Either.”

“Please, Sam,” Paul said from his position on the seat of the truck. “I usually go along on the race when Kat’s out there. I’d feel better knowing she had you looking out for her.”

“If this is your way of putting Kat on me for protection, no deal.” Sam shook his head. “I can take care of myself.”

“I know you can take care of yourself,” Paul said. “What I’m worried about is that it could have been either me or you they were after. If it’s someone wanting to win the race at all costs, any one of the teams and mushers could be in trouble. I’d feel better knowing you were looking after my little sister.”

The little-sister part hit Sam square in the gut. If he’d said Kat, the government agent, Sam might have told him which cliff to jump off. But Kat, the little sister, was another story altogether. Sam had a little sister back in Virginia. A grown-up little sister with a life of her own working as a legislative assistant to a congressman. If someone posed a threat to his only family left, he’d be equally concerned. “You play dirty, Jenkins.”

Without batting an eyelash, Paul grinned. “Damn right I do. Got to take care of my two favorite mushers.”

“Kat can take care of herself,” Sam noted. “Or so she says.”

“Oh, she can,” Paul agreed. “But it never hurts to have backup.”

Tazer held the radio out. “Does that mean you’ll wear it?”

With a sigh, Sam took the equipment and adjusted the headset to fit in his ear, tucking the radio into his pocket.

Tazer reached out and flipped the On switch. “Say something.”

“I don’t have time to talk. I have to get back in the race,” Sam grumbled.

“That you, Sam?” Kat’s voice sounded soft and smooth.

Blood flowed through his system like warm molasses and he fought the spreading heat. “Why didn’t you pin this thing on me yourself?” Then again, that might not have been a good idea. For the past few days, they’d worked side by side to complete preparations for the race, bagging feed for the drops, packing and repacking their sleds and tending to the dogs. He’d bumped into her more than he cared for.

Kat chuckled. “Tazer has a way with pinning unlike any other.”

Tazer’s brows rose. “Tell Kat to keep her eye on the trail and a hand on her gun, just to be safe.” Then she turned toward Paul. “Got room for me up there? It’s getting damn cold out here.”

Paul scooted over, easing his ankle out of the door frame.

Tazer climbed into the truck next to Paul and smiled. “Don’t break her heart, will ya?”

Sam frowned. “Who?”

Paul chuckled from the interior of the truck. “Buddy, you’ve been out in the woods too long.” His smile faded. “Take care out there.”

Other teams were arriving, heralded by the barking of sixty dogs.

“The team’s all set.” Vic clapped a hand to Sam’s back. “Better get going if you want to make use of the remaining daylight.”

Sam pulled the scarf up over his mouth and nodded to Paul, Vic and Tazer before he stepped on the sled, pulled up the snow hook and yelled, “Let’s go!”

KAT HAD A HARD TIME slowing the team. They were trained to race, to go for as long and as hard as they could before they needed rest. Stopping every hour to waste fifteen minutes made the lead dogs nervous and the rest of the team impatient. Already, several teams passed her. Her team howled in protest when she applied the brake and snow hook.

As much as Paul wanted her to win this race, she couldn’t go off without Sam. He was the only reason she’d agreed to the race in the first place.

Now that she was out on the snow, a world away from the hustle and crowds of D.C., she was glad she’d agreed. She couldn’t ask for a better place to think, unimpeded by the well-meaning S.O.S. team or her family back at the house. Royce had told her to get away from it all. Hell, he’d practically kicked her out of the office, insisting she needed the downtime. Nothing like being on the last frontier to get away from it all.

With the cold wind in her face, making ice crystals form in her eyelashes, and the soft sound of the runners skimming across the crusty snow, she relaxed.

“Is this thing still working?”

Sam’s clear crisp voice in Kat’s ear jolted her back to reality. A muffled tapping sound beat against her eardrum.

Kat winced. “I can hear you. Can you hear me?”

“Yes.”

“Then it works.” She could picture him frowning, and fiddling with the equipment, his gloved hands too bulky to be of much use with the small radio-transmitting device.

“Where’d they put the damn Off switch?” he asked.