Love at First Light (Lost Harbor, Alaska Book 6)

by Jennifer Bernard

  But that kiss…it was no exaggeration at all to say that it had shaken him down to the soles of his borrowed hiking boots. Her lips were so soft and wondering…as if every moment of contact was a step into a magical new world. Jessica saw magic everywhere, even in him. And while they’d kissed, he could almost imagine he saw it too.

  It was intoxicating.

  He shifted his head on his makeshift pillow, which was nothing but a fleece jacket rolled up under his head. Outside the reinforced nylon of the tent, the mosquitoes hadn’t forgotten about them. They kept dive-bombing the mesh window. He scratched at a bite on his neck, lightly so as not to disturb Jessica.

  Her sleeping form curled next to him, so cozy in her fluffy bag. He turned carefully onto his side so he could look at her. Her lips were parted, rosy and soft. Don’t look. Don’t remember. Her auburn hair fanned across her sleeping bag in waves, curlier than normal since she’d unbraided her hair. He spotted a scattering of spruce needles caught in her curls and smiled affectionately.

  Out here she was different, like some kind of dryad, part forest creature, part girl. One hundred percent fascinating.

  Those needles might be uncomfortable if she turned over and they poked her. He should extract them. Gently, so as not to wake her.

  His hand hovered over her hair, but then he thought better of it. She’d told him clearly that she didn’t want to get closer. Cleaning spruce needles out of her hair would probably cross that line.

  Regretfully, he withdrew his hand and rolled onto his back. He should get some sleep, dammit. That was why they’d turned in early, despite what Jessica’s crystal had indicated. Which just proved that crystals were full of crap.

  They needed their sleep because tomorrow they’d be hiking for a good twelve miles round trip. In LA he worked out, lifted weights, and swam laps to stay in shape, but hiking in the wilderness was a different kind of challenge.

  He closed his eyes. Go to sleep, city boy. Usually he was able to sleep on command. It was a skill that had served him well in his work—when he got a break on a stakeout, or when he only had brief moments to rest during a case.

  His work.

  Now that he no longer had to please Charley, should he reopen the James Agency? Closing it down hadn’t amounted to much. He’d given notice to his landlord, posted the news on his website and informed the clients who kept him on retainer. Put a message on his voicemail. It could all be undone, though he’d probably already lost some of his regulars.

  Once he got back to LA, he could be back in business within a week.

  The prospect didn’t excite him. As a PI, he saw the worst side of humanity. The cheating, selfish, greedy, violent, sociopathic side. It was nice to get a break. Nice to sleep in a tiny tent in a vast wilderness, with a sleeping beauty at his side. A beauty who believed in the best of people. Who believed in magic.

  So ridiculous and yet endearing at the same time.

  Thinking of Jessica and her crystal, he finally drifted into a half-sleep. Out of ingrained habit, part of him still kept watch as if he was on a stakeout. The wilderness sounds melded into a gentle lullaby—wind whispers, sleepy squirrel chirps, mosquito drones.

  Which was why the first hint of an unfamiliar sound brought his eyes wide open. The rustle of underbrush—but heavier than the scurry of a mouse would produce. Something large was out there. Bear? Intruder?

  He reached under his makeshift pillow for his weapon. He hadn’t told Jessica that he was bringing his Ruger. It came with him on every case. Standard gear. He lifted himself up on his elbow and peered out the screen at the back of the tent. Nothing. No movement, no out-of-place figure.

  Silent and immobile, he waited and watched. The sound didn’t return.

  He must have imagined it.

  After that, it took hours for him to finally fall asleep. When Jessica shook him awake, he felt as if he’d only slept at most a few minutes.

  Bright-eyed, she crawled into the tent and waved a mug of coffee at him. “If you get your butt out of this tent, this hot caffeinated beverage can be yours.”

  “Good God,” he groaned. “You’re perky in the morning. Because of course you are.”

  “That’s what a lifetime of getting up at five to bake scones will do to you. Also I’m excited about our first day of detective work. I’m reliving all my Nancy Drew fantasies.” She thrust the coffee mug at him. “Come on. Doesn’t this smell deliiiiicious?”

  But not even the coffee could chase the grogginess away. Nor could the breakfast of instant apple-cinnamon oatmeal. Not even the six-mile hike to their first potential cabin location brought him fully alert. When the area turned out to be empty of anything remotely resembling a cabin, he gave up.

  He slumped down to the ground in a sunny glade bursting with fuchsia fireweed. “I need fifteen minutes of shuteye, Nancy Drew. Will you keep watch?”

  “Are you still thinking about that noise you heard last night?”

  “Yeah.”

  He’d told her about it over breakfast, but she didn’t have any answers. Maybe a bear had prowled through their campsite. They’d searched the area around the tent and found no scat or other bear sign.

  “Don’t worry,” she said. “It was probably a vole or a shrew, something little. At night in the wilderness everything sounds louder because it’s so quiet.”

  “You’re the expert.” He interlaced his hands behind his head and let his eyes drift shut. The sun, now directly overhead, shone straight onto his face. Sitting next to him, arms wrapped loosely around her knees, Jessica scooted over so her body blocked the sun.

  “Is that better?”

  “Yes, much better. You’re an angel.”

  “That’s only because you don’t know me,” she murmured. “I’m not always an angel.”

  “Got any evidence for that?” Half asleep, teasing her, he wasn’t really expecting a response. So when she bent down and bit him on the chin, his entire body jerked in response. It didn’t hurt—her teeth gently settled around the point of his chin, while her warm breath heated his skin. But it shocked him.

  “You bit me.”

  “You’re just so yummy with all that two-day beard growth.” Her lips were so close to his as she made her laughing comment. The midday sun haloed her hair and his blood turned thick in his veins.

  “You aren’t teasing me, are you?” The roughness in his voice accurately reflected the urges running through him at her touch. “Because that wouldn’t be fair at all.”

  “You’re an investigator who asked for evidence, that’s all.” Her merry lips curved as she straightened up. Their flavor rushed back to him—strawberries and wild honey. “Now take your nap, city boy.”

  “You’re a devil.”

  She tilted her head back with a laugh, her throat a creamy arch of exposed flesh. A bolt of lust shot through him, so powerful it took his breath away.

  He gritted his teeth until it passed. Maybe she’d bitten him because she was tempted to take things further. But her reasons for saying no were still valid. He agreed with them, in fact. There were too many gulfs between them to risk getting involved.

  She’d set down the boundary. He intended to stick to it.

  He forced his eyes shut so he wouldn’t be distracted by the pure sunshine that was Jessica Dixon. A nap, that was all he needed. A few minutes of rest would restore his willpower, then he could go back to blocking out her sensual appeal.

  If he managed to do that, he’d deserve a gold medal in denial.

  He heard the rustling of the topo map and knew she was studying other options for the cabin location. He enjoyed being on this adventure with Jessica. He couldn’t remember ever having more fun on a case.

  What if he didn’t have to leave Lost Harbor? What could he do here that would take the place of following cheating spouses? Spouses cheated here too, of course. But no one needed an investigator to figure it out. The good old town grapevine did that job just fine.

  He could work for Maya Bad
ger. Except he’d never wanted to join a police department. That sort of environment didn’t suit him. He didn’t like chains of command and so forth. He preferred working for himself on his own timetable. There was his tech work, of course. He could do that from here. He could do that anywhere. He could do it from a float plane if he had to. A tent. A dinghy.

  A distant report stopped his aimless thoughts in their tracks. He sat bolt upright.

  “That was a gunshot. Probably a rifle.”

  “I know.” Jessica sat on her heels, head cocked to listen. “I can’t tell where it came from, can you?”

  Another shot rang out.

  He shook his head. “I can’t. Is hunting allowed out here?”

  “No. But the forest service people aren’t here enough to notice. Someone might have shot at a bear, I suppose. Bad idea, but it happens.” Two worried lines creased her forehead. “I hate to end your nap, but we should probably get back to our camp.”

  He didn’t argue with that. Those gunshots had burst the illusion that they had this remote wilderness to themselves. Apparently there was someone wandering around with a rifle.

  He pushed himself upright and brushed off his pants. His gun was tucked into its usual spot, strapped against his chest. He patted it just to be sure. “Let’s go.”

  Jessica slid the straps of her backpack over her shoulders and they trekked silently back toward the lake. They’d spent the morning hike debating what to call the lake, since no one had officially named it. They’d landed on Twisted Heart Lake, inspired by its elongated shape. But now they didn’t talk at all. Those gunshots seemed to haunt their steps.

  But they didn’t hear anything else suspicious, or run into any hunters. By the time they made it to camp, he’d almost convinced himself the gunshots were entirely innocent.

  But one look at the lake told him otherwise.

  Jessica gasped in shock as she came to a stumbling stop beside him. “Oh my God. My plane!”

  It was mostly submerged beneath the surface of the water, with only one pontoon still visible. They could see a flash of red just under the waves; perhaps still mostly intact, perhaps not.

  She ran toward the driftwood log where they’d beached the inflatable dinghy. All the air had leaked from it, leaving nothing but a shriveled pile of rubber.

  She knelt next to it. “We can blow it back up. The pump’s in the tent.”

  Silently, he crouched next to her and held up one end of the dinghy. Someone had slashed it with a knife.

  She reared back, shuddering, and he caught her against him. “Let’s go back into the forest,” he whispered. “We’re too exposed out here.”

  “What do you—“ Her eyes went wide as she got his meaning. They rose to their feet. He kept her close to him as they stepped back into the shelter of the tall spruce.

  He found a safe position behind a large boulder covered with moss and lichen. Indicating silence with a finger on his lips, he tuned into the sounds around them. Water dripped from the tallest branches overhead; it must have rained here a bit. Wings flapped as a bird launched into the air somewhere. He heard nothing human. Nothing that didn’t belong.

  Finally he relaxed.

  “I don’t think anyone’s here, do you?”

  “No.” Her face was still pale with shock, her freckles like bits of gold scattered across her nose. “Those gunshots…they sank my plane. Why would someone do that?”

  “I don’t know. But we can’t hang around to find out. They might come back.”

  “What should we do?”

  “Get the hell out of here. We need to get to a place with cell service. We don’t have a way to get home without your plane.”

  She drew in a sobbing gulp of breath. “That plane has been in my life for six years. It’s like a friend.”

  He knew she was on the verge of losing it, but he couldn’t let that happen right now. He had to keep her on task. She could mourn her lost plane later.

  He didn’t think anyone wanted to hurt them—if they’d really wanted to, they would have stuck around and ambushed them as soon as they got back. It was a message. A “get out of here and don’t come back” message from the kind of cowards who didn’t want to show their faces.

  “You stay here, I’ll pack up the tent,” he whispered.

  “No. We’ll both go. It’ll be faster.”

  He nodded. Holding her hand to keep her nice and close, he led the way toward the sheltered spot where they’d set up the tent.

  “Let me check inside first. Stay by that tree.”

  “But—“

  “Parameters, remember? If something’s dangerous, I go first.”

  She nodded reluctantly and dropped his hand so he could go. He stole toward the tent, then crouched at the opening.

  It was a mess.

  Slash marks on the sleeping bags bled with white stuffing. Their extra clothes were scattered in all corners of the tent. Even the air mattresses had been knifed.

  Definitely a message.

  He pulled his head out of the entrance flap and rested his hands on his thighs. “I have a better idea,” he told her. Jessica was holding onto the tree as if it was the only thing keeping her upright. “Let’s leave the camp just how it is. If they come back they’ll think we haven’t returned yet.”

  “Okay, but how are we going to sleep?”

  “We’ll take turns. It’ll be fine. Only one of us at a time will get to be cozy, but hey, isn’t camping supposed to be uncomfortable?”

  He saw the muscles of her throat move as she swallowed. She was handling this pretty well, all things considered. Probably because she was still in shock.

  “Is there anything you need from the tent? All we left was our sleeping gear and extra clothes.”

  She ran her tongue rapidly across her lips. “Underwear.”

  “Good thinking. I’ll grab it.”

  He crawled into the tent and rummaged through the mess for her undies. He finally found two pairs of panties that he never would have imagined were hers. One had bright red lipstick kisses printed all over it. The other was made of very luxurious-looking leopard print silk.

  “Do you always dress like this when you camp?” He tossed her the two pairs as he made his way out the tent flap. She caught them in midair and tucked them into her backpack.

  “Awfully personal question.” Her sassy tone made him breathe a sigh of relief. Apparently she’d gotten ahold of herself while he’d been poking around in the tent.

  “Well, you can’t get more personal than stranded together in the wilderness, can you?”

  “I suppose not.” She drew in a long breath and gave her tent a sad last look. “I’ve had a lot of good times in that tent.” Tucking her thumbs under her straps, she straightened her shoulders. “Let’s get going. I know where we should head.”

  “Where’s that?”

  “I was studying the map while you were napping and it’s actually only twenty-five miles or so to Aurora Lodge. We could do that in two days if we go hard.”

  Aurora Lodge was the opposite direction from where they’d planned to search. Several ridges loomed between them and the lodge.

  “Is there a trail?” he asked.

  “Sort of. It won’t be an easy hike. But I think we can do it. We’ll have to ration our food just in case it takes longer. Most of the food was still on the plane, so all we have are the snacks I brought for today. Luckily I brought my water filter so we won’t run out of water.”

  He adjusted his own pack, tightening the belt around his hips. “Lead the way.”

  Her woebegone nod conveyed so much—fear, courage, sadness. His heart went out to her, and he took a moment to draw her in close to his chest. “We got this, sweetheart. I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

  Inhaling the scent of her hair, he repeated that vow to himself. His mission had changed. It no longer had anything to do with a mysterious orphaned runaway. It was about keeping Jessica safe.

  And him too, of c
ourse, if that worked out. Given his history, the chances weren’t good at all.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Jessica led the way toward the switchback trail that would eventually bring them to Aurora Lodge. They’d have to hike around the lake and up a ridge to connect with the old logging trail that she’d located on the map. It had the dotted lines that meant it wasn’t used anymore.

  But maybe that was incorrect. Maybe someone was using it for nefarious things that required shooting people’s float planes.

  The grief over her murdered plane lurked just under the surface, but she refused to let it out. First they had to survive. The plane was insured, but she had no idea if this kind of thing was covered. How was she going to break it to her fellow owners that it was gone?

  And how was she going to get over the fact that someone in Lost Souls Wilderness wished her harm? Lost Souls had always been a refuge, an escape into another world. The idea that something so terrible could happen here—she’d be struggling with that for a long time.

  A bear attack would have been easier to deal with, to be honest.

  The steady presence of Ethan right behind her gave her a lot of reassurance, but still, she found herself scanning the forest at every curve in the path. Was someone up there on that crag, flat on their belly with a sniper rifle? Was a knife going to come whizzing through the air at their heads?

  Increasingly gray clouds chased each other across the sky. On top of everything else, it would likely rain tonight and her beloved tent was gone. They’d have to sleep curled under a tree. In the deepening shadows, the thick moss growing on the tree branches took on eerie shapes, like sloths or misshapen snowmen. They kept brushing past enormous stands of devils club with their prickly stems and leaves as big as elephant ears.

  For a long time they didn’t speak. Every so often Ethan would tap her on the shoulder and they’d stop and listen for telltale sounds of another human being. But they didn’t hear anything suspicious.

  They took care not to leave any footprints, though an expert tracker would probably find them easily enough. Occasionally Ethan would stop and use a spruce branch to brush away a mark in the path behind them.