Alaskan Fantasy

Kat’s team yelped and lunged forward. She barely caught the handlebar with her gloved fingertips, struggling for a few seconds to hang on. She stepped on the foot brake to slow the dogs. When she turned back toward Sam, he lay on the ground.

“Get down!” he yelled. “Someone just shot at me.”

“Whoa!” Kat dropped to a crouch, anchoring her snow hook to keep the dogs from leaving with the sled. “Are you okay?” She scanned the tree line across the swamp.

“I’m fine.” As he reached out to grab his hat, another shot echoed through the stillness and his hat leaped into the air. “What the h—”

“Stay down.” Kat dropped to her stomach. “I’ll move around the clearing to see if I can find out who’s shooting.”

“You’ll stay exactly where you are,” Sam hissed into the mic. “I’ll go check.”

“Look, I’m trained in this kind of maneuver.”

“So am I,” he gritted out. “Stay down.”

“If I were a man, would you be so concerned?”

“Now is not the time to go all equal opportunity on me.”

Kat scooted behind the bulk of her fully laden sled. “Chauvinist.” Although frustrated by his demand for her to stay, she didn’t say the word in anger. With a man shooting at him, she didn’t wish additional bad karma on Sam.

“I won’t have another man, woman…or child…die on my account,” Sam muttered, working his way around to the opposite side of his sled. He dug into the pouch containing his rifle. With the weapon in front of him, he ran in a zigzag pattern toward the trees.

Shots rang out, hitting the snow just in front of or behind his boots.

Kat’s breath caught in her throat. Sam certainly looked as if he knew what he was doing. She hoped like hell he did.

Chapter Four

With bullets hitting too damn close for comfort, Sam dropped behind a fallen log, easing around the side to scan the area. Another shot echoed across the clearing. Dirt and splinters from the log sprayed his cheek. In a low crawl, he scrambled the length of the fallen trunk until he reached a stand of trees with a clump of bushes at its foot. Based on the direction his hat flew off, the bullets came out of the north. Besides his own breathing and that of Kat’s stirring against her microphone, Sam didn’t hear anything. All thirty-two dogs sensed the danger and waited, ears perked, alert and silently awaiting orders.

Sam straightened and stood behind the relative safety of a tree. “Let’s see how good a shot he is,” he muttered.

“Oh, please tell me you’re not going to give him a target,” Kat growled into the mic. “Just what I need, a man with a death wish.”

Okay, so maybe the mic was sensitive enough to pick up muttering. “Don’t think you’re getting off so easily. I’m going to make it to the finish line.”

Was that a feminine snort? “Intact, I hope.” Kat Sikes was a livewire and not afraid to speak her mind.

Sam grinned and slid his glove halfway off his hand, then poked it around the side of the tree.

A bullet smacked into it and flung the glove five feet behind him, confirming his suspicion, but leaving one hand gloveless and cold. “This guy’s a professional sniper.”

“I feel better knowing that.” Kat’s voice dripped sarcasm.

“The good news is he’s after me.”

Kat laughed, the sound blasting into Sam’s ear. “You think that’s good news?”

“Better than him being after everyone in the race, including you. I’m going to circle the clearing.” He glanced around, spotting another fair-size tree ten yards away. “This guy can’t get away.”

“Don’t do it, Sam.”

“What would you suggest? Stand here until he decides he’s played long enough?” Although she couldn’t see him, he shook his head, the bite of cold air already numbing his exposed fingers. “You know how to use a gun?”

“Don’t make me laugh.” An audible click sounded in his ear, a clear indication she was armed and ready. “Gotcha covered.”

“Don’t shoot unless you have to. No use giving him his next target.”

“I’ll be the judge of that.” She was cocky and fearless.

The combination could be admirable or foolhardy. Sam hoped it didn’t make a lethal combination. He pushed away from the tree and ran for the next, his path erratic and as unpredictable as he could make it. Weighed down by heavy, insulated boots and snow, he moved slower than he liked. If he was lucky, the sniper wouldn’t draw a decent bead on him.

A bullet snapped a branch beside his cheek, another tore through his bulky parka, missing his arm by a hair.

“Son of a—” Kat swore. “I can’t see the bastard.” She fired a couple rounds.

“Aim for that outcropping of trees on the far side of the swamp.” Sam pushed away from the safety of the trees and ran again. At this rate, he’d be on the other guy by tomorrow. This time, he ran longer and faster through skeletal underbrush laced with snow.

The rain of bullets ceased when he’d gone only halfway, leading Sam to believe his attacker hadn’t stuck around. He continued until he’d circled the clearing.

Meanwhile, Kat had gone quiet, as well.

Sam missed the steady stream of sarcasm he’d gotten used to. “You still with me?”

“I’m with you,” she responded in a breathless voice.

Sam didn’t have time to ponder the reason she was winded all of a sudden. In the distance a small engine roared to life.

“Sounds like our friend flew the coop,” Kat commented.

“Damn.” Sam arrived at the outcropping of trees with the absolute certainty he wouldn’t find his man.

The snow was packed down and bullet casings littered the ground.

Sam lifted one spent shell from the snow and dropped it in his pocket. Then he followed the footsteps up and over a small rise. This swamp area was known for the multitude of snowmobile tracks crisscrossing through the area. Another set of snowmobile tracks wasn’t unusual. Except the driver had been shooting at Sam. He couldn’t chalk the incident up to a hunter mistaking him for a moose.

A branch snapped behind him and Sam spun.

“Whoa, tiger.” Kat held up her hands, her rifle in one of them. “I’m on your side.” She stared out at the packed snow. “You’ll never trace him. There are too many tracks around here to even try.”

“I know.” He glanced at her, a frown drawing his brows downward. “I thought I told you to stay put.”

“In case you haven’t figured it out yet, I don’t always follow orders.” She shrugged. “It’s a hard habit to break. Ask my brother.”

“The sniper could just as easily shoot you as me.”

She tipped her head to the side, her brows rising on her forehead. “But he wasn’t aiming for me, was he?”