Wild Men of Alaska Collection

by Tiffinie Helmer

  “The morgue didn’t have the best lighting,” Perry said. “I did enjoy your tears, my dear. Heart wrenching really, but I was a tad disappointed you didn’t stay around long enough to feel for a pulse.”

  She’d been so overcome with grief and guilt, she’d lit out of that two-bit hospital like the shameful, sullied woman she’d been.

  “You knew he was alive?” she demanded of both Sergei and Ivan. Why had she been left in the dark? Manipulated.

  “I’d begun to suspect,” Sergei said.

  “I wasn’t sure until these brutes jumped me in Homer outside the Salty Dawg,” Ivan said, stretching his neck. “I’ve been their ‘guest’ until your call this afternoon.”

  Kate looked closer and could see bruises darkening Ivan’s skin around his jaw. Her hands itched to slice.

  “Drop the knife, Kate,” Perry ordered. “Knives,” he added after summing her up. She tossed the knives at his feet, coming close to stabbing his booted-foot. “Still as brazen as ever. I always did like that about you.” Still holding the gun on her, Perry reached around to her back, seizing the Glock where she’d stashed it in the waistband of her pants, and stuffed it into the pocket of his Columbia jacket. “I’ll put a bullet through her head. Toss over your weapon.” He waited for Sergei to lay down the Remington. “Kick it over here.”

  Sergei’s sharpened stare centered on Perry as he did as instructed. “There are three of us. Do you really think this is ending vell for you?”

  “I’m not alone,” Perry scoffed. Two big thugs stepped into the room from behind Perry. “I think I’ve more than leveled the playing field,” he added, smug as hell. He looked at Kate. “Besides, one of you is a woman.”

  “You should know better than to underestimate me, you son of a bitch,” Kate said.

  “You’ve always been so droll, Kate. Content to be told what to do. A government lackey.”

  “Are you going to let him talk to you like that, Katja?” Sergei asked, his tone dry as dust.

  “Katja? Oh, isn’t that sweet,” Perry sneered. “Twenty-four hours and you’re back to being his whore.”

  “Don’t call her names just because you couldn’t satisfy her,” Sergei said.

  “Shut up.” Perry aimed his weapon at Sergei.

  Kate used it as her opening to kick the gun free of Perry’s hand. Much like a flare going off at the races, they charged. Thug One and Thug Two went for Sergei and Ivan leaving her to face off with Perry.

  Gladly.

  Perry made a tsk-tsk sound as he advanced. “You really shouldn’t have been so straight-laced, sweetheart. You and I could’ve had something promising together.”

  She’d thought they had. The feeling must have been conveyed in her expression, for Perry laughed. “You were such a delight at first. Willing to learn, to please.”

  She lashed out at him, and he deflected. Each kick, fist, series of volleys, he easily dodged. He’d been her teacher and therefore knew all her moves. They’d worked together, covered each other’s backs for six years. She’d thought the world of him. How could he have done this to her? He’d set her up. Played her. And she’d let it happen, never suspecting Perry of being a traitor. He’d been her mentor, and she’d followed everything he’d told her like some devoted dog. No longer. This ended.

  Tonight would be his last Christmas Eve.

  Letting him get in a few good swings, she lured him back toward the fireplace. One blow had stars blinking in her vision and slammed her into the hearth, the force of the punch knocking her into the beautifully glazed pottery vase. It tumbled to the floor, breaking, and she followed after it.

  Sergei roared her name as she went down. She struggled to her feet, slicing upward, the Ulu she’d stashed inside the vase gripped in her hand.

  Perry’s look of shock was comical as the wound registered. She’d cut close to his balls, slicing through his femoral artery.

  The Remington recoiled, and glass shattered, deafening as it echoed in the tall ceiling. The Arctic wind raged in, and the room froze.

  Perry hit his knees.

  Sergei cocked the shotgun and aimed at Thug One. “Move,” he dared. “Give me reason.”

  Not strong in the brains department, Thug One charged, and Sergei pulled the trigger.

  Ivan broke Thug Two’s neck, and he crumpled to the floor.

  “You bitch,” Perry hissed, blood soaked through his pants, bubbling through his fingers as he tried to stanch the wound. The man was dead, and he knew it. Kate had a hard time feeling bad about it. She’d already grieved for him once.

  “I’ve got to know,” Perry gasped, color draining out of his face. “Where’s the money?” He pitched forward.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  “I’m tired of being your clean-up man,” Ivan said, shaking his head over the body count.

  “Let’s hope this is last time.” Sergei laid down the shotgun and confronted Kate. “Vhy did you let him vail on you like that?”

  “Easiest way to take a man down is with his ego.” She dropped the Ulu on top of Perry’s body. “What did he mean by, ‘where’s the money’?”

  “The arms deal in Afghanistan. I couldn’t let Perry keep the money.”

  “This has all been about money?”

  “Nyet. This is about love, Katja.”

  “How much money?”

  There was a look exchanged between Ivan and Sergei.

  “Thirty million.”

  Thirty million. Again, she was nothing but a pawn to be played with between two dangerous men. Pain pounded in her chest, making it hard to breathe. “Where’s the money?” she repeated Perry’s dying question.

  “In an off shore Cayman account.”

  “And you’re living here as a handyman?”

  “I don’t need the money, and I like to fish. I told you it vasn’t about the money.”

  She turned on Ivan not able to look at Sergei. “What has the last two years been about? You egging me on to go after Sergei?”

  “You didn’t need any egging, Kate,” Ivan scoffed.

  “What is your role in this?” She hadn’t even met Ivan until after Afghanistan. The twisted trails started to make a map that she could now see from a different angle. “I can’t believe I ever fell for that bullshit. You weren’t sent from some government outreach program to help traumatized agents readjust to society.”

  Ivan shrugged. “Sounded plausible at the time.”

  “If you’re his comrade why don’t you have an accent?”

  Ivan smiled. “I assimilate better into your American society as I’m not as untamed as this guy. More cultured.”

  “I sent him,” Sergei said. “To vatch over you. Keep you safe since ve suspected Perry vas still alive. Katja, you must understand, Perry knew you vere falling for me and that I cared for you more than I should. The order to kill each other vas test. One that I am glad ve both failed. He liked the hero vorship, and vanted more from you, but knew you vere beginning to see the rust in his armor.”

  “You’ve been spying on me? Sending babysitters?” She gestured to Ivan. “Why didn’t you come yourself?”

  “I couldn’t contact you. Keeping avay from you kept you alive. Besides, you veren’t ready to see me again. Not vith how you blamed me. You needed time, Katja.”

  “Fuck time. Who the hell are you to manipulate me, decide what’s best for me, and use me as bait to lure out Perry, leaving me in the dark?”

  “Okay, I’m out of here,” Ivan said. “I don’t want to get between the two of you and your domestic dispute. Besides, it’s Christmas Eve. I wouldn’t mind being home with my kids and wife by morning to open presents.”

  “I’m going with you,” Kate said, turning for the stairs.

  “Nyet, Katja.” Sergei grabbed her arm, pulling her into the side of his body. “Pozhaluista.” It was a whispered plea in her ear from deep within him that caused emotion to choke off her throat.

  “Perry vas vatching you,” he added. “Ve couldn’t prove i
t, or fish him out. Leaving you in the dark kept you safe. Kept you alive.”

  She’d been sent to kill him. Ordered by her government, or so she’d believed. “Why take the risk that I would have killed you?”

  “I couldn’t vait any longer. I love you. The only thing I had to build on vas your vengeance. I had to know if you could love me in return.”

  “You son of a bitch.” Her voice broke on the last word, taking the heat out of it. She hurried up the stairs to gather up her belongings.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Kate entered the bedroom, and regarded the broken pieces of the bed.

  How could you build a relationship based on vengeance?

  She gathered up her backpack, realizing that besides the clothes she wore, there wasn’t anything of hers here to take. Sergei had taken everything else, her bra, her winter gear, her heart.

  Oh God. She loved him.

  That line between love and hate was so damn thin and razor sharp, cutting until she bled. How was she going to live without him? He’d been her whole focus since she’d met him two years ago. He’d been everything, and she’d been so blind to the reasons why.

  She wiped at her eyes, realizing that tears were trailing silently down her cheeks, and saw the blood on her hands. She glanced down at her clothes. There was blood on them too.

  She headed to the bathroom and ran the water in the sink, catching her reflection in the mirror.

  Who was this woman?

  Spy?

  She no longer felt like one nor felt the desire to continue being one. As it turned out, she’d been rogue for a while if Ivan was her contact and he worked for Sergei.

  Lover?

  Pain expanded in her chest at the thought of not lying with Sergei again. Not sparring with him. He kept her on her toes while sweeping her off her feet at the same time, and she loved that about him. Loved the woman she was when with him.

  She turned off the faucet and stared at her reflection. She could leave with Ivan or stay with Sergei.

  Slowly she stripped off her clothes and unpinned her hair.

  She stepped into the shower, turning on the water, catching her breath as the iciness stabbed her. She forced herself to stand under the needling spray until it warmed up, then she took the pulsating water as hot as she could handle, washing away all the blood, all the pain, all the indecision.

  There was only one decision to make, and she’d made it when she’d stripped off her clothes.

  The shower door opened. Sergei stood there, naked, his heart bare for her to see. Love and fear warred in eyes greedily taking her in. He waited a heartbeat for her to object. When she didn’t, he stepped into the shower, crowding her back against the wall.

  “Ivan?” she asked, though getting words past her swollen throat was difficult.

  “Gone.” He braced himself for her reaction.

  “The garbage?”

  “With him.”

  She didn’t ask any more questions. A good clean up man was hard to find. Besides, Alaska was a big state with the deep, bottomless seas surrounding three sides of her.

  Kate offered the soap to Sergei. “Wash my back?”

  He took the soap.

  She turned, offering him her back, a thrill shooting up her spine at the strangled sound escaping his throat.

  He slowly worked a lather over her skin, and then reached around her to set the bar down in the dish, his body rubbing up against hers with the action. She had his full attention. He massaged her back, kneading sore, battle-weary muscles until she moaned.

  “Katja, forgive me, but I had to know.” He buried his nose in her hair. “You’d come to me once on orders. I needed you to come to me for love, not duty.” He turned her in his arms. “Duty kills. Love does not.” His eyes intent, his mouth a mere breath from hers, he murmured, “And you could not kill me.”

  “That is a dumbass reason. You’ve read too much Dostoevsky—”

  “Actually, I prefer Tolstoy.”

  “Do you have any idea what it would have done to me if I had killed you?” It would have destroyed her. “I love you, you barbaric Russian.”

  “I know.” A pleased smile spread over his face.

  She growled and pushed him up against the tiled wall. Her hands dove into his hair and pulled, bringing his lips down to hers. She kissed him, her mouth desperate, her heart full of love for this infuriating man.

  His arms tightened around her, and he switched their positions, grabbing her bottom and hitching her into his arms, positioning himself between her thighs. Her legs automatically locked around his waist and he surged inside her.

  Grunting with satisfaction, he held her bound within his embrace. He didn’t move as though he needed a moment to get himself under control. “Is after midnight, vhich means tis Christmas. I have not had many Christmases that I could celebrate. I’d like that to change. I vant family, Katja. I vant you for my family.”

  Pleasure lanced through her at his words, and her heart tumbled further.

  He’d stripped her bare. Not just physically but emotionally as well. Tears filled her eyes as he asked her to take everything she’d ever wanted.

  “You have unwrapped me, Sergei. I have no other gift to give you today but me.”

  “You are the greatest gift I’ve ever received, Katja.” He took her mouth, and took her body, giving everything he had of himself. Their release was fast and shattering, promising a new life, a new beginning.

  He turned off the shower, dried them both off, and then bundled her up in a towel. As though she were something precious, he carried her to bed.

  The night was silent, snow drifting on the air in fluffy flakes outside the window. Before joining her in the shower, he’d lit a fire in the fireplace. The flames had warmed the room and gave it a comforting glow.

  For a Christmas scene it was pretty perfect.

  “Do you think you could learn to like it here?” Sergei snuggled her into his arms. “Vill you consent to stay until you’ve experienced vhat I can show you about living on The Edge?”

  “I don’t want to go anywhere, right now.” She burrowed against him, loving the heat of his body, the warmth of the bed, the promise of a treasured tomorrow.

  A prickle of worry intruded. “What about the occupants of the lodge?” she asked. What would they think of her when they returned? Would she be welcomed?

  His arms tightened around her as if to ward off her unnecessary worries. “Ve are a family of misfits, here on The Edge. You vill fit in beautifully. They vill love you as I do, Katja.”

  A family of misfits. They sounded like her kind of people.

  “And vhile I do love a brisk vinter, I’m not averse to visiting the tropics and little scraps of clothing decorating your luscious body.” He kissed her shoulder. “I have a bit of cash to spend.” He glanced around the room, eyeing what she’d done to the bed. “Shopping to do.” He lifted her left hand and kissed her ring finger. “A ring to buy.”

  Her breath caught as her heart expanded in her chest.

  “Katja, let me buy you the vorld.”

  “I don’t want the world, Sergei. I just want you.” She proceeded to show him how much.

  THE END

  EDGE PREVIEW

  COMING SOON!

  PROLOGUE

  Twenty Years Earlier

  The knife reflected the setting sun on its upward arc, resembling a torch as well as the instrument that would end her life of twelve years. She struggled against the ropes tying her down until her skin tore and bled, slickening the rough stones on the altar she lay on.

  All the while Jedidiah Dawson, leader of the Ascension, quoted bible verses.

  Methodically, he sliced a length of her long, golden hair, and turned toward one of the nine homemade beeswax candles placed at strategic points around her body. Like a sick nursery rhyme the candles marked head, shoulders, knees, and toes, with her hips added in. The solstice sun highlighted his handsome, strong features, his smooth shaven face, adding s
hots of fire to his groomed maple-colored hair. Tonight he had donned a coal-black robe, embroidered with white and blue threads over his simple cotton, button-down shirt and jeans.

  Praying for her deliverance, he brushed the burning locks of hair over her nude body. Sparks flared from the blaze, burning her skin where they fell.

  Her hoarse screams went unanswered.

  “Don’t,” she cried. “Please, don’t do this.” She’d done what they wanted. Stopped fighting them months ago, resigned to her fate from being a kidnapped victim to the prophesied daughter and wife to Jedidiah.

  The knife trembled in his hand, and he tightened his grip. “You failed to conceive and therefore must be cleansed.” He brushed tears from her face with gentle fingers. “Now, hush. It’s time.” The knife rose above her and he closed his eyes, his voice ringing throughout the verdant forest. ‘Kill every woman that hath known man by lying with him.’ Numbers 31:17.

  Like that had been her choice.

  He bestowed a look of caring patience upon her. “My child, I will make you sacred in order that you may ascend into the Kingdom of our Lord.”

  “I don’t want to ascend. Let me go home. Please. I just want to g-go h-home.” Sobs shook her emaciated frame.

  “I am sending you home, my daughter, my wife. Soon you will be with our Lord.” Tears filled his dark eyes. “‘O daughter of Babylon, who art to be destroyed; happy shall he be, that rewardeth thee as thou hast served us.’ PSALMS 137:8.”

  He kept repeating chapter and verse as though still teaching her. He brushed his lips across her forehead. “Know that I will miss and pray for you often as you prepare a place for me and our brothers and sisters in our Lord’s Kingdom.” The hand holding the knife rose above her again. The blade didn’t tremble as it sliced downward.

  The thick forest embraced her screams and the rich earth swallowed her blood.

  CHAPTER ONE