I yanked my hand away, stinging from the roadkill comment. “I had good backup,” I said and went to the coffee table. I reached for the bottle of ibuprofen, but Val snatched it up first.
Val wrenched off the lid and shook several pills out into his palm. “Don’t you need something stronger than this?”
I motioned for him to hand over the pills. “I’ve had stronger. These will do for now.” Tossing my head back, I swallowed the capsules dry.
Val shoved his hands into his pockets. “Let me know when those kick in.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m driving you home.”
I hoped I had misunderstood. “North Carolina is a really long drive.”
“My place,” Val said in a way that dared me to challenge him.
I turned my attention to the TV while considering my reply and recognized the actors from a syndicated crime show. Two men in CSI jackets knelt over a black body bag. I took a deep breath and let it out. “No.”
From the corner of my eye, I watched Val go still. I imagined steam leaking from his ears. “No?”
“I don’t want to sleep on your sofa anymore.”
“You’re always welcome to the bed.”
“Whose bed, Val? No matter what you say, you can’t expect Hugh and Joe to give up their space for me.” In offering these less-than-convincing excuses, I aimed for diplomacy. I was irritated with Val for his evasiveness and secrecy. He was pretending to be something he wasn’t, although I didn’t know exactly what that something was. After the past four months and all his attempts to get closer to me, I deserved better from him. But confronting Val might raise his defenses and put more distance between us when, more than anything, I needed him to be unguarded and open.
Thorin had withheld information, too, but he hadn’t made a claim on my affections or my friendship. Unlike Val, he had never attempted to foster any kind of relationship with me. And why should he? He was the Boss Man—Mani’s employer. End of story. Before coming to Alaska, Thorin had been nothing more to me than a vague and distant authority figure, and I doubted a substantial thought about me had ever crossed his mind. And yet, Thorin was the one who’d taken me away from the wolf attack. He patched up my wounds and watched over me. I had stayed in this apartment for the past few days without incident. No whiff of wolf or other malicious intents. If I wasn’t safe here, would I be safe anywhere?
“You’ll take my room,” Val said. “If you’re going to be stubborn about it, I’ll sleep on the sofa.”
Thorin stepped further into the room, noiseless and graceful as ever. “This apartment is secure, more secure than your place. I’ve seen to it that all access points have been reinforced. She’ll stay here.”
“Reinforced?” I said. “How?” Even in my semi-unconscious state, I would have noticed construction guys installing steel doors or whatever. I looked about the room, but everything about the apartment looked the same as the first time I’d seen it. Both men ignored my question. Big surprise.
Val stiffened his spine, threw back his shoulders, and crossed his arms over his chest. “Who are you to say?”
Thorin smirked. “You know very well who.”
The chemistry flowing between Thorin and Val spoke of something older and more personal than employee and employer. Tension crackled between them, and while part of me wanted to see how far they might push each other, the larger part of me lost patience. I stuck my fingers between my lips and whistled like a referee. “Hey, guys, look. I wish I could say I was flattered by all the manly posturing on my behalf, but I’m not, and I think you’re not really arguing about who’s got a better chance at getting laid. Why are you so interested in my welfare? And don’t tell me it’s because of my charm and good looks.”
Both men turned to face me, a formidable wall of masculinity. I shivered and then cringed when that hurt. Val opened his mouth first. “Mani—” he began.
I put up my hand to stop him. “Don’t use my brother as an excuse. You two aren’t talking about putting my butt on a plane to North Carolina anymore. Something has changed. I want to know what it is.”
I read the obstinacy on their faces plain as newsprint. “Nobody trusts anybody, do they?” I grumbled.
Val uncrossed his arms and leaned a hip against the sofa arm. “For a good reason, Solina. This is a dangerous game you’ve gotten in the middle of.”
“I might stand a better chance of surviving if you’d explain the rules.”
Thorin stepped further into the room. “They’ll figure it out anyway.”
“They?” Val asked.
“Skyla isn’t going to stop asking questions. She’s smart. It’s only a matter of time.”
“Screw Skyla,” Val said and then jabbed his finger at Thorin. “And that goes for you too.” He spun on his heel and glared at me. “Stay here, then, Solina. I hope we don’t all come to regret it.” Val blew out of the apartment, the door banging shut behind him like a gun shot.
My gaze slid to Thorin, who stood in the room calm and still as if nothing had happened. “What was that about?”
Thorin motioned to the sofa. “Please sit. I’ll bandage your shoulder for you.”
Too tired to argue, I sank onto the sofa and passed Thorin the first aid kit. I peeled back the collar of my robe and turned my head. A moment later his steady fingers blotted ointment onto the rough patches, and his touch sent shivers over my skin.
“Is it cold?”
“No,” I said and changed the subject. “I don’t know what Val expects from me. He’s been generous and caring in the past, but for some reason I don’t trust him.” I glared at Thorin from the corner of my eye. “I don’t trust you either.”
Thorin’s chuckle rumbled deep in his chest. “Then you’re smarter than I thought.”
I ignored his not-so-subtle insult. “There are a lot of things you aren’t telling me. Like how you knew where to find me out there in the woods. How did you know I was in trouble? Were you following us?”
Thorin deflected my accusation by asking a question. “Tell me about the dream you had the night your brother was killed.”
“Why should I?”
He laid a strip of bandage over my shoulder. “I am not Thor,” he said. “Thor and Odin died during Ragnarok.”
Thorin had diverged onto a path I didn’t expect, but I followed after him, hoping it would make sense eventually. “The apocalypse, right?”
“Yes. The first one.”
“First?”
“It was their plan to sacrifice themselves in a battle against the forces of Chaos so mankind could survive and prosper.”
“You read those comic books, too, don’t you?” I closed my eyes as his fingers brushed over my skin, his touch gentle and warm.
“Odin was killed by the wolf Fenrir. Thor was killed by the venom of a giant serpent called Jormungand. Thor killed the serpent, but in its death throes the snake spat venom on Thor, and they both died.”
“Ironic.”
“Hmmm,” Thorin replied. “So, you see, Val and I cannot be these mythical beings because they passed away eons ago.”
“So Skyla is totally off base.”
“Hmmm,” he said again, which was no answer at all.
“Unless we were all hallucinating, something strange happened out there in the grove of trees the night the wolf attacked us. I need it explained. I need to know why wolves, or men who pretend to be wolves, are intent on killing me. I need to know how I did the things I did, too.”
“I’d like to know those things, as well,” Thorin said as he tore off a strip of tape. He patted it onto my shoulder and slid the bathrobe’s collar over it. “Val tries to tell you he wants to protect you because he cared about Mani and he cares about you. There may be truth in his claims. I don’t question that aspect of his motive. It is not for me to know.”
“But he also wants to keep you under his care because he wants to know what Skoll and Hati want with you and your brother. I want to know this as w
ell. I am willing to tell you that without trying to manipulate your emotions. I am not interested in your feelings, just your value as a source of information.”
“My, aren’t we suddenly Mr. Verbose?” I said. “You admit to having a stake in my survival?”
Thorin put the first aid kit’s contents in order. “For now.”
“What is your stake?”
“You’re persistent, aren’t you?”
I cocked an eyebrow and waited.
Thorin leaned back against the sofa and laced his fingers behind his head. The pose emphasized the bulk in his arms and shoulders. “It is possible your survival has a direct impact on me. It is in my interest to keep you alive.”
“Have wolves been trying to nibble on you as well?” I asked.
Thorin smirked. “They wouldn’t dare.”
“Your explanations are sorry, and I still have no confidence in you.”
“Get used to it. We’re going to be spending quite a lot of time together.”
“We are?”
Thorin nodded. “Starting now. Get dressed. We’re getting out of here.”
“Why?”
“Because,” Thorin said, his smirk turning into a grin. “Without Little Red Riding Hood, the woodsman would have had a hard time trapping the Big Bad Wolf.”
Chapter Seventeen
“Why should I go anywhere with you?” I asked Thorin. “You say ‘jump’ and expect me to pull out my pogo stick? You should know me better than that by now. You’re going to have to give me more information first.”
“We’re going to Juneau,” Thorin said and rose from the couch. “There are some people there that we need to see.”
I folded my arms over my chest and made no indication I planned to leave the couch anytime soon. He could be stubborn with his short answers. I could be even more stubborn. “Why do both of us need to go?”
“Number one, so I can keep an eye on you, and number two, you make much better bait if you’re visible.”
I gulped. “Bait?”
Thorin grinned, baring his teeth at me. “Wolf bait.”
If I refused to go with Thorin, Skyla would help me in whatever way she could, but the wolf attack and Skyla’s subsequent research had turned our investigation on its head. I was at a loss for what to do next. Thorin admitted he knew little more than I did, but I had a feeling the bit he knew was crucial to unraveling the mystery of Mani’s murder. If he wanted to go to Juneau to hunt for more information, and keeping company with him would lead to finding more answers, then it made sense to go with him, even if it meant facing that damned wolf again. Either way, it sure beat sitting around Siqiniq, clueless and hiding in the apartment.
Thorin smiled like he knew he had me on his hook. “What are you going to do if you stay here? Lay around some more? Shall I order you a box of bonbons?”
Well, that did it. I took accusations of idleness and indifference as serious fighting words. I stood up and scowled at Thorin. “Okay, you got me. I’ll be your bait. Let’s go to Juneau.”
After my concession to join Thorin on his “excursion,” he directed me to go downstairs into his store and pick out a cold-weather wardrobe. I layered up in a fleece jacket, thermal T-shirt, Gore-Tex-lined pants and boots, and a heavy parka. Thorin had changed as well: hiking pants, a wool fisherman’s sweater, and an insulated waterproof jacket. He had also asked me to pack an overnight bag.
“Why the insistence on winter gear?” I asked.
“It’s going to be a cold ride.”
I shook my head and rubbed a hand over my face. Getting answers from Thorin was like trying to get a jammed-up Snickers bar out of a stubborn vending machine. “How long does it take to get to Juneau?” I asked.
“Depends on your method of conveyance.” Thorin routed us through the store to the street entrance, rather than out back, to where he parked his Land Rover.
“And we’re being conveyed by…”
“Boat.”
“Whose boat?”
Thorin gave me an incredulous look. “My boat, of course.” Which explained the need for insulated clothing.
Nighttime water travel would be frigid, and I quailed at thought of being trapped on a boat with Thorin for—“How long did you say this would take?”
“We’ll be there by morning.”
Thorin and I stepped out onto the street, and he led the way toward the marina where Skyla stored her kayak. At the docks, Thorin strode toward the end of the first row of boats, and I followed behind more slowly. The boats increased in size as we went, from recreational inshore fishing skiffs to deep-sea vessels. Thorin stopped before a big one, a Viking – I tried not to snicker – with the word Mjölnir painted in bold print across the back and sides.
All night, on a boat, with a virtual stranger—my nerves protested. “Who are we going to see and how are they going to help us?”
“I didn’t say they were going to help us.” Thorin stepped onto a deck attached to the boat’s rear end and climbed steps leading to the dark interior. The boat’s massive engine roared to life a moment later, and a thrill raced through me. Okay… this could be fun.
I climbed up into the boat – yacht – and surveyed the plush interior. “If these people aren’t going to help, then why are we talking to them?”
Thorin returned to the dock and unfastened the mooring lines. “I didn’t say we were going to talk, either.”
I gave a frustrated growl. “Why do all your answers have to be cryptic and evasive?”
Thorin glanced over his shoulder as he fiddled with a knot. He smiled and arched an eyebrow. “It gives me a mysterious allure, don’t you think?”
“It’s annoying.”
Thorin worked with the ropes, and the muscles of his shoulders and arms bunched and flexed as he stowed things, making ready to leave. Surety and grace shaped every movement—not like a dancer, but like someone who knew the full capacity of his body and spent time honing and perfecting it—a fighter, a soldier, or cheesy as it sounded, a warrior.
Val had a strong physical presence, too, and could undoubtedly hold his own in a fight, but I’d never call him a warrior. He lacked the impression of suppressed violence that seemed to hang around Thorin. If Val’s and Thorin’s employee/employer relationship was the farce I had come to suspect it was, then I wondered if Thorin’s aura of power was the reason Val deferred to him, albeit begrudgingly.
In place at the command center, Thorin engaged the throttle and eased the boat from its slip, demonstrating the finesse of an expert sailor. “Make yourself at home,” he said, motioning to the living space stretched out behind the helm. “The bar is stocked.”
“Tea?” I asked.
“Look in the cabinet beside the refrigerator.”
The galley was nicer than most household kitchens. Granite countertops, stainless steel, Sub Zero fridge and wine chiller, and – wouldn’t you know it—custom Viking appliances.
“You’re not very subtle,” I said, finding boxes of tea, cocoa, and dehydrated apple cider mix. I selected a bag from a box of oolong and went to the sink to fill the tea kettle.
“What do you mean?” Thorin asked.
“Viking yacht, Viking kitchen appliances…”
“Can I help that the Scandinavians know how to make quality products?”
“I’m just saying you might be straying into the territory of cliché.”
Thorin tapped a series of buttons on the control panel. Then he left the helm and came into the galley. He pulled out a stool at the bar table and noticed my worried glance toward the unmanned wheel. “Autopilot,” he said.
“You still haven’t answered any of my questions,” I said, digging through the cabinets for sweetener and powdered creamer.
“Thirty-three thirty-six, the Giants, and Johnny Walker Gold, straight up.”
I narrowed my eyes. “I don’t care about your pants size, who you think will win the World Series, or your favorite drink. I meant you haven’t explained who we are go
ing to see in Juneau, or what they have to do with the wolf attacks and Mani’s death.”
“You don’t care who wins the World Series? How un-American of you.”
I arched an eyebrow and waited for his reply.
Thorin put on a serious face to match mine. “You feel certain the wolf attacks on you and Mani aren’t coincidence?”
“How could they be? I’d have a better chance of winning the lottery. Twice.”
“And you believe this because of your dream?”
Thorin was still avoiding my question, but I would try the give-and-take thing and see if diplomacy influenced him. The teapot whistled. I poured the hot water into a mug, passed it to Thorin, and poured one for myself. “Because of my dream and what Skyla said, yes.”
Thorin clutched the mug in his big hand, dwarfing it, and dunked another bag of oolong into it. “Tell me about it.”
I did, even the part about the mystic words uttered by the killer during Mani’s final moments. “It goes with what Skyla was saying. If Mani was the moon, and I am the sun, then who is the beast, and who are the gods?” I had a guess about the gods part, but no idea about the validity of my guess.
So what if I lit up like a Hollywood spotlight? I mean, that was a lame power among the pantheon of superheroes. It would barely rank me as a sidekick. But if Thorin and Val were connected to this situation, what kind of godly powers were they supposed to possess? Male sex appeal? They had libido in bucket loads and could probably flatten a room full of hormonal women with a single wink, but I didn’t think that’s what Mani’s killer meant. “You said the apocalypse already happened, so what do they hope to accomplish now?”
Thorin braced his coffee mug on the counter. “In the legend, the wolves were simply agents of Chaos and the forces of evil. They were little more than puppets fulfilling their masters’ wishes. I expect something similar is happening this time around. Adam Skoll and Harold Hati are small-time hoodlums.”
Midnight Burning Page 13
