K-9 Defense

by Elizabeth Heiter

According to the manager, the hotel attracted mostly tourists from out of state during the summer months. They’d hoped to make Desparre a destination spot, a look at the “true” Alaska. Instead, they were slowly failing, the manager had whispered to her sadly. Kensie had the hotel practically to herself.

  She should have felt pampered. But all she’d wanted to do was drive out to another log cabin, this one much smaller and filled with the overwhelming presence of a man who was no good for her.

  She still couldn’t believe he’d kissed her. Yes, she’d felt his reciprocated attraction from the start. But he was broken, possibly even more broken than she was.

  He hadn’t shared much about his time in the military besides his role and the fact that he’d been a soldier for almost a decade. Maybe he just didn’t know how to do anything else. Or maybe the soldier in him couldn’t live with a physical disability.

  Kensie didn’t care about his physical limitations. But she did know two things: he was too emotionally damaged to be relationship material, even if she was looking, and she couldn’t let him distract her from this chance to find Alanna.

  Right now, still yawning from her sleepless night, Kensie darted a furtive glance at Colter. He walked beside her, Rebel between them, near the store where Alanna’s note had been found. The plan this morning was to canvass the nearby stores, see if they could find someone who knew anything.

  Colter looked like he hadn’t slept any better than she had. With his light skin, the circles under his eyes seemed even more prominent. Every twenty feet or so, his right leg dragged a little. For him to even let her see that much, she figured it was hurting him badly. That could have been the reason for both his lack of sleep and his grumpiness.

  But she suspected the latter had more to do with the kiss they’d shared last night. When he’d picked her up downtown this morning, he’d handed her a disposable cup with the scent of coffee wafting from it and given her a gruff nod hello. Not exactly the slow, intimate smile she’d been expecting, but maybe it was a good thing.

  Except right now, his continued brooding was beginning to annoy her. She didn’t want to be ungrateful for his help, but she also didn’t want to tiptoe around him.

  “Maybe we should split up.”

  He frowned at her with the most direct eye contact he’d given her all morning. “Why?”

  She pointed up ahead at the two businesses sharing a parking lot: a snowplow store and a diner that smelled like grease even from a distance. “We’ll accomplish more, faster.”

  He grunted like he didn’t believe her explanation, but she was actually grateful as he and Rebel headed off to the diner. The man may have been emotionally unavailable, but he was also six foot two of muscled temptation. Her willpower was pretty good, but even in his bad mood, walking beside him had made her unusually aware of his every move.

  Time to focus on Alanna, Kensie reminded herself as she pushed open the door to the snowplow supply store. As the heavy door slammed closed behind her, she stared in awe. It was more like a warehouse than a store, filled with machines that dwarfed her. At the far end she saw a huge garage door and a checkout counter.

  While most of the people she’d met in Desparre looked like they’d either been here forever or the extreme weather had aged them before their time, the guy manning the counter was young. Maybe twenty, with three piercings on his face and tattoos snaking out of both sleeves. He looked like part-time help.

  She forced a friendly smile onto her face as she approached. Years of pleas on news stations and talk shows beside her parents, of trailing behind them as they questioned potential witnesses, had taught her that people responded to two things: a friendly approach and a sob story.

  This was the part she hated most, selling out her memories of Alanna in the hopes of bringing her sister home. But if it worked, it was worth every sleazy guy who’d offered to “cheer her up,” every ambitious reporter who’d salivated at the idea of broadcasting her grief to as many people as possible. It was worth every missed opportunity, every failed relationship. Even every possible relationship, cut off before it could begin.

  “Hi,” she started. “I’m Kensie Morgan. I’m looking for my sister and—”

  The kid shook his head, already going back to the handheld game partially hidden under the counter. “No woman’s been through here today.”

  “It wouldn’t have been today. A few weeks ago, a note was left at Jasper’s General Store down the road and—”

  “You’re looking for the kidnapped girl?” His head snapped back up, the game forgotten. “The news said she’s been missing for fourteen years.”

  “That’s right. She has dark hair like mine. And brown eyes, a little darker than mine.” Were those things still true? Kensie assumed so, but had no way to really know. Maybe Alanna’s hair had been dyed or she wore colored contacts. Or maybe, now that they were all grown up, they looked nothing alike anymore.

  The kid shrugged. “I only started here this week. I guess the last guy just walked out and didn’t come back, so here I am. It’s great, pretty quiet so I can do my homework.”

  Kensie’s hopes sank. “So you don’t know if the owner saw anyone like that over the past few weeks, maybe around the time the note was left?”

  “Sorry. But can I ask you—”

  “Thanks.” She cut him off, not wanting to hear his questions about what had happened to her sister or what she worried had happened in all the years Alanna had been gone. Even the people who were sympathetic usually didn’t know how to walk the line between support and morbid curiosity. That line was a lot thinner than most people realized.

  As she headed back the way she’d come, the door opened and a man as tall as Colter, but who looked a decade and a half older, walked in. “Hey, where’s Derrick?” he yelled across the store.

  “Not working today,” the kid called back.

  “Excuse me,” Alanna said, her hopes lifting again. “Do you live around here?”

  “Yeah.” The man turned deep brown eyes on her as he drew out the word, scowling.

  That angry scowl. It was vaguely familiar. Kensie’s heart rate picked up as she realized why. It reminded her of the man who’d taken Alanna.

  Fourteen years ago, he’d climbed out of the passenger seat of a dark blue sedan, wearing all blue—jeans and a lightweight sweater. His long arms had stretched out and yanked her sister right off her feet. Alanna had let out a muffled squeak and then Kensie had screamed loudly enough that it should have brought the entire city running.

  He’d met her gaze for mere seconds. She hadn’t been able to tell his eye color from across the yard, but he’d been scowling. A deep, intense scowl she’d never forget. He’d been about the age this guy would have been back then, too. His hair had been more brown, whereas this guy had streaks of gray, but that might have just been time.

  Kensie let out a small laugh, earning her a perplexed—and slightly concerned—look from the man. It was weird, but she’d done this repeatedly over the years. She’d see someone on the street and everything in her would go unnaturally still, even her breathing. Then adrenaline would kick in, sending her heart and mind into overdrive. A few minutes later, she’d come to her senses. The psychiatrist her parents had forced her to see for a few sessions as a kid had given it a name, but Kensie couldn’t remember it.

  She’d gotten such a brief look at Alanna’s kidnapper. She probably wouldn’t have been able to identify him fourteen years ago, let alone now.

  The man started to walk away and Kensie grabbed his arm, surprised at the ropey strength beneath the thick jean jacket. His arm flexed and he jerked it free, almost knocking her down.

  “You need something, lady?” He looked her up and down, studying her too intently. He might have been good-looking in some circumstances, but the anger curling his lips and raking harsh lines across his forehead ruined it.

 
She held her hands up. “Sorry. It’s just—you’ve lived here awhile?”

  “Yeah, why?”

  She tried a smile, hoping it would soften him up. “You know the regulars, it sounds like, and I’m looking for someone.”

  He shifted, angling away from her. His gaze darted from the kid behind the counter to the big garage door at the other end of the space. Then he stared back at her suspiciously. “Who?”

  “My sister. She was kidnapped a long time ago.”

  “Your sister, huh?” He scowled some more. “From where?”

  “The Midwest.” The words came out without conscious thought. Normally she said Chicago, but even telling herself she was being crazy, something about this guy was getting her radar up. He might just be unfriendly. Or maybe he actually knew something and she needed to tread carefully. Would getting too specific about Alanna—if he actually did know her, if by some crazy fluke he really was the person who’d grabbed her all those years ago—scare him away?

  The guy’s head swiveled back and forth between the doors again. “I don’t know your sister, lady.”

  “But—”

  He spun back the way he’d come, darting a glance over his shoulder as he threw the door open, then practically ran outside.

  Kensie swore under her breath then ran after him, yanking her phone out of her pocket. She skidded to a stop in the snow outside as he leaped into a truck.

  With shaky hands, she snapped a photo of him. For one second, he froze, like he might jump out and rip the phone from her hands. Then the truck flew backward out of the lot, and slammed to a stop before changing direction and racing away.

  * * *

  HE NEEDED TO get out more.

  The thought surprised Colter. Usually, when he came to town and people wanted to ask him questions about his life or make small talk, he couldn’t wait to get back to his cabin and shut the rest of the world out.

  But today, carrying a homemade chocolate chip cookie that the grandfather of seven who owned the diner had given him, while Rebel drooled happily over a dog biscuit, Colter felt lighter than he had in a long time. His steps picked up as he headed toward the store where he’d left Kensie.

  Once upon a time, she would have been everything he wanted. Back then, he’d been the kind of guy who’d had a map of his life drawn in his mind. He might have taken one look at her and sensed the possibility for marriage and kids. For a home waiting for him in between military tours.

  That was the life he’d always imagined for himself. The kind of life his brothers in the Marines had: video calls with spouses, letters written in crayon arriving at bases around the world, pictures to carry inside their helmets. Something to fight for. Someone to go home to.

  He’d never have any of that now. Without the military, the vision was a mess. He couldn’t imagine a sedate life for himself, with a woman who didn’t mind picking up the slack when his injury got to be too much, and kids who didn’t mind that their dad couldn’t run after them like other dads. If he was being honest, he didn’t want that life at all now.

  He’d come to Alaska not just to hide, but also to heal. Somehow, over the past year, he’d lost sight of the healing part. But Kensie had forced him out of his comfort zone, out of the solitude of his cabin, and it was reminding him of why he loved it here. Why he’d chosen it in the first place.

  Sure, there were guys like Danny Weston, people who’d come here to take advantage of Alaska’s wide-open spaces and hide from whatever terrible thing they’d done. But there were also people like the grandfather who’d owned this diner for the past thirty years. Hardworking people who’d come here for the chance to live a simpler life, to connect with nature and themselves. That’s what he wanted.

  Kissing Kensie last night had reignited in him all the old dreams and this morning he’d woken with what felt like a hangover. The inevitable disappointment he felt whenever he dreamed of the past. Waking up and remembering it was all gone had spiraled him into depression more than once. He wasn’t going there again.

  Kensie was never going to be anything more to him than a memory. But maybe her entering his life was exactly the kick in the butt he needed to make him rejoin the world.

  No, life was never going to be the way he’d imagined when he was eighteen and just embarking on his first military tour. But how many people’s lives turned out the way they planned when they were little more than kids?

  At his side, Rebel trotted along happily, with nothing left of her biscuit but a lone crumb on the top of her nose. A smile trembled on his lips. He could still be happy here. Just because his trajectory had changed didn’t mean it was pointless. He could find meaning in his life, allow himself to enjoy the solitude of his cabin, the endless open views across the valley.

  He drew in a deep, cold breath of Alaskan air. It was time to face his future.

  Chapter Seven

  Kensie had barely spoken to him since he’d picked her up at the snowplow store.

  Colter shot another glance at her across the truck cab. He hadn’t known her long, but she wasn’t usually this quiet. And while it could have been his own bad mood from when he’d met up with her a few hours ago causing her silence, he didn’t think so.

  It was probably the kiss they’d shared.

  For the hundredth time since it had happened, he cursed himself. But this time it was half-hearted. How could he fully regret something that had reset his perspective on his life? Yeah, maybe kissing her had been a lapse in judgment, but hopefully it was the push he needed to get his life in order. To figure out how he was going to truly make this place his home, instead of just his hideout.

  He gripped the wheel a little tighter, trying to find the right words. He’d never had to apologize for kissing someone before.

  Eyes still on the icy road in front of him, Colter started, “The past year, I’ve been hiding out in my cabin. Not really on purpose. But I came here for the solitude and it was easy to turn that into a solitary life.”

  He glanced at her to see if she’d figured out where he was going with this meandering opening salvo, but she was just staring out the windshield, forehead furrowed. So he kept going. “Helping you wasn’t easy for me. I know you don’t get it, but trust me when I say that any kind of mission was the last thing I thought I needed.”

  She was silent, so he pushed forward, faster now, starting to feel foolish for not just blurting a simple apology and leaving it at that. “That’s why I bailed on you when I found out you weren’t telling me everything. And when I kissed you...”

  Kensie stayed silent, lips pursed like she was waiting for a real apology. Or maybe she wasn’t even listening to him. It was hard to tell.

  “I’m sorry. I should have—”

  “It was a mistake. I get it. I agree. We got carried away in the moment. It’s not like it’s going to happen again.” Kensie cut him off suddenly, swiveling in her seat as far as the seatbelt would let her. She tucked one knee up underneath her, facing him even as Rebel tried to stick her nose in between to be petted.

  It wasn’t going to happen again? Even though that had been his plan, too, hearing her say the words made him long to pull the truck over and see if she really meant it.

  Visions of her kissing him filled his head. The way she’d fit inside the circle of his arms, soft and feminine but stronger than he’d expected. The way her lips had melded instantly to his, like she’d been imagining it since the moment he’d first helped her up off the icy Desparre street.

  Then the vision shifted, moved into territory he had no business imagining. Of her back at his cabin, standing in front of the fire as she dropped her coat to the floor. As his fingers found their way underneath the hem of her sweater and his lips traced a path from her mouth down to the pulse at her neck. As he lingered there, pulling her body closer until there was barely any space between them.

  “I think I m
ight have just met Alanna’s kidnapper.”

  It took a minute for him to process Kensie’s words, for them to penetrate the increasingly erotic vision in his head. Once they did, he slowed the truck to a stop, pulling over as far as he could, and turned to face her. “What?”

  “I know it sounds crazy and at first I thought I was just imagining things.” Kensie spoke at warp speed, reaching out to clutch his arm as if to keep his interest.

  As if that was a problem. “Who is it? Why didn’t you come and get me?” And why was she just now mentioning this?

  “I don’t know his name, but I got his picture.” She let go of his arm to fumble in her pocket and pull out her phone.

  When she turned it to show him, he squinted at it a long minute, trying to place the guy. “I recognize him. He’s lived here a long time.” Colter tried to come up with a name, but couldn’t. “I think he’s got a place on the outskirts of Desparre somewhere. Comes in periodically for supplies. Usually to the spot we just visited, not the main part of town.” He lifted his gaze from the phone. “Did you ask the store owner, Derrick? He could probably tell you this guy’s name.”

  Kensie shook her head. “Derrick wasn’t there. Just a kid who was working the counter.”

  “So, this guy who came into the store for supplies...why do you think he has Alanna?”

  “He looked familiar.”

  Colter tried to keep the disbelief off his face. She’d been just a child when her sister had been kidnapped. “You got a good look at the guy back then? How close were you?”

  How close had she come to being grabbed alongside Alanna? The idea made him nauseous.

  “I was across the yard. I wasn’t close enough to help her.”

  Kensie’s voice was so mournful that Colter reached out without thinking and twined his fingers with hers. She clutched tight instantly, as if by instinct, and his heart pounded harder.

  “You were thirteen years old, Kensie. What could you have done?” Besides get herself kidnapped—or worse?