Refuge Cove

by Janet Dailey

  She’d been a naïve, gullible fool. But she’d learned her lesson. Men lied to get what they wanted—and when they thought they had it, they could change without warning. Never again, for as long as she lived, would she put blind trust in any man, including the dark, intriguing pilot who sat beside her now.

  This afternoon John Wolf had revealed a part of his past—not an easy thing for such a private man. What he’d told her, she sensed, was true. But what had he left out? How many dangerous secrets was he still hiding?

  Right now, she had no choice except to trust him with her safety. But she would keep her guard up. She would never let need make her vulnerable.

  They stopped for a few groceries in Ward Cove. Emma waited in the locked Jeep while John went into the store and came out with a tall paper bag. He had asked her if she wanted anything special, but she’d answered with a shake of her head. She’d had a long, emotional twenty-four hours. Thinking about groceries was more than her wearied brain could manage.

  But she didn’t like the idea of being dead weight. It was time she started helping out around the cabin. She would start by offering to make supper tonight, even if it turned out to be warmed-over chili.

  By the time they arrived at the cabin, it was almost dark. Emma stayed locked in the Jeep while John, with a flashlight in one hand and his pistol in the other, circled the cabin. Only after he’d checked inside and turned on the porch light, did he come back for the groceries and Emma. Given how well he knew Boone, his caution confirmed that the danger was worth taking seriously.

  The cabin was cold. While John made the fire, Emma unpacked the groceries—mostly basics like coffee, bacon, eggs, milk, and bread. No fresh vegetables. Didn’t the man eat salad?

  The only surprise was a half gallon of double-fudge chocolate ice cream and a plastic squeeze bottle of chocolate syrup in the bottom of the bag. She stared at it, shaking her head.

  “What?” With the fire flickering to a blaze, John had wandered into the kitchen area. “Is something wrong?”

  “What were you thinking?” She shook her head again. “This junk food will give you a heart attack by the time you’re fifty!”

  He raised one black eyebrow. “Maybe I won’t live that long. And tonight, it isn’t junk food, it’s supper. Join me.”

  “I was about to warm up the last of the chili. At least it’s nourishing.”

  “Come on.” He lifted two good-sized bowls off the shelf and began scooping chocolate ice cream into them. “You haven’t lived until you’ve spent an evening in a forest cabin, eating chocolate ice cream and reading a good book in front of a crackling fire. Live a little, Emma Hunter.”

  “Oh, all right.” She watched as he stowed the carton in the freezer, drenched the mounds of ice cream in chocolate syrup, added spoons, and handed her one bowl to carry.

  She followed him toward the overstuffed love seat that faced the fire. John was right, she told herself. An evening of relaxing self-indulgence might be just what she needed. But something, she sensed, was off. He was too artificially cheerful, too set on getting her to do what he wanted.

  Should she confront him and demand to know what was going on? But no, that would only raise the tension between them. They both needed a break tonight.

  The paperbacks she’d chosen were stacked on the side table. Emma settled on the love seat where she’d slept last night, kicked off her new sneakers, and rested her stocking-clad feet on the hearth. The fire was deliciously warm, the chocolate ice cream a decadent treat. She spooned it slowly into her mouth, savoring the cold, creamy sweetness.

  She could tell that John didn’t want to talk. Resolving to leave him in peace, she finished the ice cream, set the bowl and spoon on the side table, and opened one of the books. The story was well-written, but Emma was worn-out. She’d barely made it through fifty pages before she began to nod off.

  “Hey, sleepyhead.” John’s touch on her shoulder startled her awake. “You’re not spending another night out here,” he said. “I’d say it’s about your bedtime.”

  Emma yawned, put the book on the table, and staggered to her feet. “Can I wear your thermals again tonight? I didn’t buy pajamas.”

  “They’re all yours. I may be up for a while. Don’t worry if you hear me go out. I’ll just be checking the place.”

  “Are you concerned?” She remembered how he’d checked the perimeter of the house before letting her out of the Jeep.

  “I’m just being careful—making sure that bear doesn’t pay us another visit.”

  “Then I’ll try not to worry.” She yawned again. “I don’t know if I’ve thanked you for all you’ve done. Please know that I’m grateful.”

  He raised a mocking eyebrow. “You know I’d do the same for a lost puppy, don’t you? Now get some rest.”

  Emma tottered down the hall, brushed her teeth, and got undressed. The bedroom was cold, the bed even colder. But little by little the sheets and blankets warmed to her body. Lulled by the wind in the trees outside her high window, she sank into sleep.

  * * *

  The moon had risen above the mountaintops, its cold gleam casting a moiré of light and shadow over the forest. The sky was clear, but the breeze off the narrows carried the sound of distant thunder and the scent of rain.

  Armed with his pistol, John waited in the darkness next to the Jeep. He hadn’t wanted to alarm Emma by telling her about the tire tracks he’d seen earlier. But he’d gotten their message. Boone had stopped by while they were gone. And he’d be back.

  After making sure Emma was asleep, he’d turned off the cabin lights, locked the door, and settled next to the Jeep to wait. His ex-brother-in-law was bound to show up. It was just a question of when.

  He’d been outside for about twenty minutes when he heard the snap of a twig. The hair rose on the back of his neck. It wasn’t a bear—that much he knew. A bear’s approach would have been absolutely silent.

  He raised the .44 and pulled back the hammer as a tall, pale form stepped out of the trees at the edge of the clearing. It was Boone, all right, wearing a fringed buckskin jacket with a slouched hat, and carrying a high-powered rifle. He would’ve parked some distance away, probably driving a vehicle borrowed from his mother’s homestead.

  “Put the gun on the ground, Boone. ” John stepped into the light. “Nice and easy. No court would convict me for shooting an armed man on my property.”

  Boone laughed as he lowered the weapon. “Hell, John, I should’ve known I couldn’t sneak up on a goddamned Injun. But I didn’t come to pick a fight with you. I just came to fetch my wife. I know you’ve got her. Hand her over and we won’t have any problem.”

  “Slide that gun in my direction, and we’ll talk.”

  Boone gave the rifle a shove with the toe of his boot. Keeping a careful eye on the man, John picked it up, removed the shells, and tossed the empty gun behind him on the ground.

  “In the first place, she’s not your wife,” he said. “We found out about the fake wedding.”

  Boone grinned. “Reckon she was pissed about that. Most women would give their teeth to be Mrs. Boone Swenson.”

  “She’s pissed about more than that, like the money you stole from her.”

  “Stole? Hell, she gave me that cash with her own sweet little hand. It was a gift. It’s mine. Now hand her over before things get ugly.”

  John took a moment to weigh his options. True, he had the drop on Boone. If he thought he could do it, it would make sense to restrain him and turn him over to the police. But with no outside communication except the radio in the Jeep, he was on his own. And Boone, a tough, dirty brawler who outweighed him by thirty pounds, was bound to put up a fight. If the fight ended the wrong way, Emma would be left alone, without protection. He couldn’t take that chance. Short of shooting the bastard, which would be murder now that the man was unarmed, his safest bet would be to talk Boone into leaving.

  “What you did is called theft by deception,” John said. “Emma’s alre
ady talked to the police. If they catch you, you’ll be in for some serious jail time. But if you’d give back her cash and promise to leave her alone, chances are we could talk the little lady into dropping the charges.”

  Boone’s response was part guffaw, part snarl. “Charges? That’s a friggin’ joke. The bitch set my trailer on fire and burned it to the ground. She owes me!”

  “You can tell that to the judge,” John said. “But there’s one more thing—something even more important to Emma than the money. You played on her trust and betrayed her. What she really wants is to make sure you never hurt another woman that way again.”

  “Well, you can tell the friggin’ little bitch she already got her wish.” Raising a bandaged right hand, Boone swept away his hat. Moonlight gleamed on the burned and blistered streak that ran down the side of his head, from the crown of his scalp to his fire-maimed ear and down to his jaw. “No woman’s ever goin’ to want me again—not unless she’s as blind as a bat!”

  John willed himself not to stare as the realization sank in. Emma’s escape had scarred this man for life. His thirst for revenge wouldn’t be satisfied until he’d made her suffer.

  Stepping back, he used his foot to shove the empty rifle back within Boone’s reach. “Emma didn’t do that to you, Boone,” he said. “You brought it on yourself when you set out to cheat her. Now put your hat on, take your gun, and go. If you ever try to come near her again, so help me, I’ll shoot you where it’ll hurt the worst!”

  Boone slapped the hat back on his head and bent down to hook his hand around the rifle. As he straightened, his face wore a smirking grin. “I’ll be damned,” he said. “You’ve fallen head over heels for the little bitch, haven’t you? Well, good luck with her, my Injun brother. Don’t get burned like I did.” With that, he turned, strode away, and vanished into the trees.

  John stood in place, pistol at the ready, until he heard the distant rumble of a truck pulling away through the trees. Even then he waited in the silence, alert for any sign that Boone hadn’t really left.

  He took a few minutes to climb into the Jeep and radio the state troopers. But even if they came rushing right out, by the time they got here, Boone would be long gone. Boone knew the back country trails and logging roads like the palm of his hand. He could come and go at will without being seen. And sooner or later, he would be back, looking for Emma.

  * * *

  Knowing he wouldn’t sleep, John sank onto the porch steps and watched the cloud bank roll in from the west. Sheet lightning danced across the dark sky. Thunder growled a muted warning.

  You’ve fallen head over heels . . .

  Boone’s taunting words played like a loop in his head. Why couldn’t he just dismiss them? Was it because they’d struck a note of truth?

  John muttered a curse. He was too old and cynical for a teenage crush. True, he liked Emma. He admired her spunk and courage. And she’d become important to him. Keeping her safe had become an urgent priority. But falling? That would be crazy. Boone’s words were nothing more than an attempt to rattle him.

  Emma would need to know that Boone had been here. He didn’t want to terrify her, but she had to understand that she was no longer safe in this remote cabin. Not even with him. For now he would let her rest while he kept watch. He could tell her first thing in the morning.

  By the time he went inside, the stars were gone and a soft rain had begun to fall. The gentle sound pattered on the porch roof above his head. Not wanting to wake Emma, he opened the door softly.

  The room was dark, the fire almost out. As he crossed the floor to the hallway, he saw that the love seat had been turned partway toward the front door. Something stirred against the cushions. It was Emma, huddled in the blanket.

  “I hope you aren’t going to say there was a bear outside,” she said. “I don’t want to hear a lie.”

  John walked toward her, pausing to lay the gun on the side table. “No, it wasn’t a bear,” he said. “Go back to bed. You’re safe. We can talk in the morning.”

  “We can talk now,” she said. “I’ve been awake since I heard you go outside. I couldn’t go back to sleep if I had to.”

  “Fine.” He walked to the fireplace, stirred the glowing coals, and added another log, along with a few sticks of kindling. Then he pushed the love seat back to face the fire and settled on the end opposite Emma.

  “I heard voices,” she said. “It was Boone, wasn’t it?”

  “It was. He’s gone.” John watched the log catch fire.

  “You couldn’t stop him?”

  “I stopped him from coming inside. But no, short of shooting the bastard, there was nothing I could do to stop him from leaving.” He turned to face her. “He’ll be back, Emma. And after what I saw and heard tonight, I know he’s not going to give up until he punishes you in the worst way.”

  “What did you see?” Her eyes were large in the firelight.

  “You didn’t just burn the trailer. Boone was burned, too—right here.” He indicated the extent of Boone’s burns with his hand. “He says that, given the way he looks, no woman will ever want him again—and he’s determined to make you pay for what you did to him.”

  “Pay?” The quiver in her voice betrayed her fear. “He stole seventeen thousand dollars from me. That old trailer was nothing but junk. What can he be thinking?”

  John turned away to gaze into the leaping flames. “Knowing what Boone’s capable of, I don’t think either of us wants to find out,” he said.

  In the silence that followed, he sensed that she was breaking under the stress. She’d begun to tremble. A low sob escaped her lips. What he’d just said to her was frightening, but she needed to hear it. Growing up, he’d witnessed Boone’s cruelty to small, weak creatures unlucky enough to cross his path. Emma needed to understand that the danger to her was all too real.

  “I didn’t mean for that to happen.” She was crying now, her shoulders heaving with deep, heartfelt sobs. “I didn’t want him hurt. I only wanted to get away.”

  Heartsick, John watched her. Lord, she didn’t deserve this. She’d come to Alaska full of hope and trust, eager to begin her own loving family. Instead she found herself stalked and hunted by the revenge-hungry monster she’d chosen to be her husband. It was the ultimate betrayal.

  Not knowing what else to do, he reached out and gathered her close, cradling her against him. “I’m sorry,” he whispered against her soft hair. “Damn it, girl, I’m sorry.”

  He felt her quivering as she struggled to control herself. Little by little her crying eased and her shaking slowed, but she made no move to push away. Instead she clung to him, as if he were the only solid element in her crumbling world. Where his hand rested on her back, John could feel the pounding of her heart. Where her head rested in the hollow of his shoulder, his shirt was damp with her tears. He cradled her gently, his free hand stroking her tangled hair. “It’s all right,” he murmured. “I’m here. I won’t let anything happen to you. . . .”

  Only then, when she failed to reply, did John realize that she’d fallen asleep in his arms.

  CHAPTER 6

  Emma opened her eyes to gray dawn filtering through the windows of the cabin. John was standing over her, his black hair flowing over his shoulders. The barest hint of a smile tugged at his lips. “Good morning,” he said.

  Stirring, she blinked herself fully awake. Only then did she realize that she was on the love seat, wrapped in the wool blanket with pillows under her head.

  “Not again!” She groaned, rolled to one side, and sat up. “Have I been here since last night?”

  He nodded. “I’d have hauled you up and walked you to your bed, but you were out like a light. And after Boone’s visit, I thought you might be nervous sleeping alone.”

  “You’re right. I would have.” She yawned. “I hope you got some sleep, too.”

  “Enough.” Emma knew he was fudging the truth. He would have sat up all night keeping watch while she slept.

  “Lia
r,” she said. “I know you better than that.”

  “I’m fine,” he said. “Lucky for us, the rest of the night was quiet.”

  He sat down next to her on the love seat. “Look at me, Emma. You need to understand something. Now that Boone knows you’re here with me, this cabin isn’t safe for you anymore. It’s too isolated. There isn’t even any cell phone service out here, just the radio I have in the Jeep.”

  “Having me here isn’t safe for you, either,” she said. “Boone could sneak up in the night, block the door, douse the porch with gasoline, and set the place on fire. The old wood in this cabin would go up like tinder, and us with it.”

  “Let me fly you out of here,” he said. “Tomorrow I’m scheduled for another mail run. I can take you along and drop you off in Sitka with some good people I know.”

  Emma hesitated. It made sense to say yes right now. But if she left, Boone would have a good chance of going free. The police and troopers had more urgent matters to deal with than an elusive man who’d cheated a woman out of her savings with a pretend wedding. She knew she mustn’t stay in the cabin, but there had to be other, safer options.

  “Let me think about it.” She rose, pulling up the waist of John’s oversized thermals. “I said I’d let you know after I talk to the judge—and I will.”

  “I guess that’ll have to do for now.” He didn’t look pleased. “Go on and get dressed while I rustle us up some breakfast.”

  Emma went down the hall and, after cleaning up in the bathroom, unfolded her new clothes from the plastic shopping bag, which would have to do as a purse until she could find something better. Maybe there was a thrift shop in Ketchikan where she could buy a few more necessities. She would have to ask John, or perhaps the judge.

  By the time she’d dressed in her new jeans and a navy blue cotton turtleneck, she could smell bacon cooking in the kitchen. She was just leaving the bedroom when she happened to glance down the hall. At the far end of it, beyond John’s room, was a closed door. Strange, she hadn’t noticed it earlier. Was it a back door to the cabin? Curious, she walked down the hall to investigate.