Midnight Burning

by Karissa Laurel

  “And you know who is pulling their strings?”

  “I can make some educated guesses.”

  “And these educated guesses are who we are on our way to see?”

  “One of them.”

  “How do you know this person?”

  “Helen Locke and I have been acquaintances for some time. She is the head of Nastrond Corp, and through it she owns businesses all over the world, most of them specializing in the commerce of human vice. In that capacity she takes great care to stay connected and informed in both the legal and the more… illicit circles of business and society.”

  I blinked several times and tried to process the information, particularly the commerce of human vice part. “What’s she doing in Juneau, of all places? I never knew it to be a breeding ground for seedy activity.”

  “You ever hear of Percy Gruen?”

  I shook my head. “Can’t say I have.”

  “He’s a big shot in the world of professional poker, originally from Juneau. He won the World Series a few times when he was younger. Now he’s a businessman. He got together with Alaska’s Bureau of Travel and Tourism and proposed a plan to build an attraction in Las Vegas promoting tourism in Alaska. Helen Locke is interested from an investment standpoint and has brought a contingency from Nevada to discuss the proposition.”

  “How do you know all this?”

  “Helen Locke is not the only one interested in investments and staying well connected.”

  “I think I may be in over my head.”

  A look of smugness stole across Thorin’s face. “Indeed.”

  I poured out the remaining hot water and cleaned our dishes. Thorin gave me a quick boat tour, which included a visit to a stateroom that accommodated a king-sized bed. Then he led me to a smaller closet-sized space that managed to contain a double. “This will be your room,” he said, motioning to the closet.

  Before Thorin turned to leave, I threw out one more question. “What is the name of your boat?”

  “Mjölnir?” He pronounced the word sort of like, me-yul-near. Not a phonetic combination common to the English language.

  “What does it mean?”

  Thorin paused in the tight hallway; the cramped walls and ceilings emphasized his height and the breadth of his shoulders. “Look it up,” he said and jogged the steps to the helm.

  I settled onto the bed, grateful for the efficient heating system and the flat-screen television offering satellite connection to the Internet. I pressed buttons on the television and the remote-control keyboard until I figured out how to turn things on and fire up the satellite. A quick search on Google and I had all the results about Mjölnir I could ever want, both academic and fantastic—comic books, video games, Nordic-themed role-playing games.

  According to the Prose Edda, a source previously mentioned by Skyla, Thor’s hammer was an unbelievable weapon that would always hit as hard as he needed, never miss its target, and never fly so far away that it couldn’t find its way back to him. He could also reduce its size to fit in his pocket.

  Handy.

  I wondered if naming his boat after the mythical weapon meant Thorin had a god complex after all. Then there was Val and his connection to Odin, or Wotan, or whoever. Val and Thorin had history, the ancient type, I was certain.

  The display on my phone showed it detected no cell signal, so calling Skyla was impossible. I used the Internet again to find the website for Thorin’s store and discovered her e-mail address on the “Contact Us” page. Before I turned out the lights and called it a night, I shot her a quick note to tell her about my disappearance, promised to call when we arrived in Juneau, and warned her to stay out of Val’s way if he went on a rampage when he discovered my absence.

  Chapter Eighteen

  I woke to sunlight streaming into the sleeping berth’s tiny oval window and Thorin shaking my shoulder. “Wake up, Sunshine.”

  I rose to one elbow and rubbed my eyes. “Why do you have to say it like that?”

  Thorin arched an eyebrow. “Say what like what?”

  “Why do you call me Sunshine like it’s an insult?”

  “Oh, I’m sure I could think of more insulting things to call you, if you’d rather.”

  Point made. I changed the subject. “Are we there?”

  “Been there,” Thorin said. “I let you sleep most of the morning, but we’ve got to go into town.”

  “M’kay,” I said after a jaw-popping yawn. “Give me a sec to freshen up?”

  Thorin nodded. “I’ll meet you up top.”

  In the bathroom, I brushed out my hair and twisted it back into a messy knot. I ran a toothbrush over my teeth and washed my face. Thorin left coffee on the counter for me in a disposable cup. Its fragrance greeted me when I came into the galley. I snatched it and met Thorin on the dock of a marina facing downtown Juneau. “What’s the plan?” I asked.

  “We’ve got to find you something appropriate to wear. We’re on the guest list for dinner tonight.”

  Something about the way he said it disturbed me. “Dinner?”

  “An affair worthy of seducing Helen Locke out of some of her extensive funds.”

  I followed Thorin to the marina exit. “How’d we get on the guest list?”

  Thorin shrugged a shoulder. “I told you. I’m an investor.”

  We walked across the street to a row of shops bordering the waterfront. Thorin stopped before one store window showcasing several cocktail dresses, all elegant, and all obviously beyond my price range. A dinner with strangers elegant enough to call for the use of these dresses meant Thorin planned to push me far outside my comfort zone.

  “I’m really on more of a Target kind of budget,” I said.

  Thorin made a show out of looking up and down the sidewalk. “Sorry, looks like they’re fresh out of Targets.”

  Thorin held the door open for me, and I stepped into the store’s low-lit interior. The saleswoman fell over herself trying to get to us. She wasted no attention on me; her eyes were all for Thorin. How could I blame her? It would take more than scuffed boots and old jeans to conceal his innate regality. Thorin had pulled his hair into a half ponytail, emphasizing the exquisite lines of his face. He was beautiful… in the same way a six-hundred-pound feral tiger is beautiful.

  “How can I help you?” the saleswoman purred.

  “I doubt you can help me,” Thorin said in a cool voice. “I’m sure you have nothing in my size.”

  The saleswoman laughed as if Thorin was the wittiest creature she’d ever met. I rolled my eyes and went to inspect a champagne-colored gown that had caught my notice. Thorin and the saleswoman talked, but I tuned them out and fingered the iridescent fabric.

  “You have good taste,” the saleswoman said, tearing her attention away from Thorin. “That should look stunning on you. The color complements your eyes.” She showed me to a dressing room and promised to return with shoes and accessories.

  I changed quickly so I could cover my scrapes and bandages before the clerk returned. The dress’s back was full, and the bodice was cap sleeved and covered my shoulders. If I wore my hair down and trimmed my bandages the right way, the dress might cover anything questionable. Bite marks and such. Also, thanks to the plunging V-neckline, no one would likely pay much attention to my shoulder anyway.

  The saleswoman returned, bringing jewelry and shoes that complemented the dress. The sandals teetered on an intimidating stiletto heel, but the gold hoops for my ears were slim and elegant. I slipped on the accessories and studied myself in a mirror. I might have dressed up this much for my cousin’s formal wedding, but never again before or after that occasion. The mirror reflected the image of a stranger—a glamorous one, but self-doubt showed in her frown and in the way her shoulders sagged. I closed my eyes, shrugged off my uncertainty, and strode into the showroom.

  Thorin, in the middle of thumbing through something on his phone, looked up and froze. I took his reaction as a good sign. He eased a hand to his back pocket, pulled o
ut his wallet, and said, “We’ll take it.”

  I turned and scurried into the dressing room before Thorin could see me blush. I removed the dress and glanced at the price tag. My mouth went dry. It would take months of straightening the stockroom of Thorin’s store to pay him back. The saleswoman cleared her throat to announce her presence, and I dropped the tag and shoved the large number out of my thoughts. She took my purchases to the register while I changed into my street clothes.

  Thorin carried my bags from the store for me. “It’s too much,” I said. “I can’t pay you back.”

  “There would be plenty of ways you could pay me back, if you were that kind of woman… or if I were that kind of man. Fortunately for you, I’m not Val. Any information we learn at this dinner tonight will well be worth the price of a dress.”

  Thorin and I returned the dress and accessories to my cabin in the boat. Then we went in search of something to appease my bothersome hunger. Thorin hadn’t used those words exactly, but he made finding a quick bite to eat feel like an imposition on his time. Lunch wound up being an awkward few minutes of me gobbling a sandwich and a bag of chips in a café while Thorin stood outside making business calls and texting.

  Late in the afternoon, after we purchased a few necessities at a drug store and located the hotel catering the dinner party, Thorin and I returned to the marina. I removed my bandages, showered, and spent half an hour drying my hair using the dinky travel dryer I’d bought in the drug store. I studied my injuries in my bedroom mirror, noted the progress of my healing, and set about reapplying the dressings, grunting against the pain when I raised my arm the wrong way. Thorin might have helped, if I asked, but I was already indebted to him enough for one day.

  Before I went to work on my makeup, I put in a long-overdue call to Skyla. When Thorin and I had gone out earlier, I’d left my cell phone on the boat on purpose, to avoid calls from people I had no interest in talking to, such as my parents and Val. Skyla had tried calling several times according to the caller I.D. So had Val. The things he had to say would likely upset me, so I put off listening to his voicemail.

  “Tell me everything!” Skyla demanded. She answered on the first ring as though she had the phone in hand, waiting for my call. I reviewed all that had happened from the moment Val arrived during my shower to the argument about where I would stay, about who had withheld information, and finally about Val leaving in a rage. I told her about Thorin, his claims, his connections, his boat, our shopping trip in Juneau, and our pending dinner with Helen Locke.

  “Boss Man bought you a dress?” Skyla said.

  “Yeah, so? What was I supposed to wear?”

  “He bought you an expensive dress? Did he buy you jewelry too?”

  “Nothing sparkly,” I said. “It’s necessary. I’m playing the part of wolf bait. It helps if the lure is attractive.”

  “Hmmm,” Skyla said, unconvinced. “I’m going to do some research into this Helen Locke.”

  “Dinner is at seven. Call me before then if you find anything useful.”

  “I will.”

  I twiddled the corner of the pillowcase beside me for a moment before I inhaled a breath of courage. “You haven’t talked to Val, have you?”

  Skyla huffed. “I wouldn’t call it talking, exactly.”

  “He’s pissed, huh?”

  “That’s a mild word for it.”

  “He ought to know that I don’t heel to his whims.”

  Skyla laughed, but it sounded pitiful, like laughing at someone who fell in a mud puddle. A mud puddle named Val. “Uh-huh. What Val ought to know and what Val actually believes rarely equate. He’s on the war path. Be careful when you get back.”

  “He’s not the violent type, is he?”

  “With you, no. Thorin, on the other hand…”

  “I think Thorin can handle himself.”

  “Yeah, and that would be a fight worthy of showing on pay-per-view. Val is jealous and possessive. He’s not going to forgive Thorin for this very easily.”

  “Val doesn’t own me,” I said.

  “Try telling him that.”

  “I don’t think I will. Not right now.”

  Skyla started to say something else, but a loud bang and an angry voice in the background interrupted her. “Oh, shit,” she said.

  “What?” Visions of snapping teeth flashed before my eyes.

  “It’s Wotan.”

  “He’s there with you?”

  “Yeah, I’m at the store. He’s been in and out today, bothering me about you.”

  Val’s voice carried over the line. “Is that Solina?”

  “Lie,” I said. “Lie like a rug.”

  “It’s my mom,” Skyla said to Val.

  “There’s no way someone like you ever had a mother.” Cracks and thumps in my ear suggested someone had dropped the phone. Or maybe Skyla had punched Val in the face, which I kind of hoped was the case.

  I considered hanging up, but then Skyla yelled, “Let go of my phone, Wotan. I fight dirty, and I’m not afraid to go for your nuts.”

  “You try it and you’ll draw back a bloody nub.”

  I would have feared for Skyla’s safety, but she had held her own against a wolf. Maybe I should have been more afraid for Val. Further noises of fighting encouraged me to end the call.

  I hung up and set the phone on the bedside table. The sound of running water filtered through the boat’s thin walls. Thorin taking a shower, probably. I pushed that provocative image out of my head and went to work applying my drug-store makeup and tending to my hair. It hung to the middle of my back, thick and straight, the color of chardonnay, or so my father said. Maybe Thorin didn’t have the patent on good hair, but from working in the kitchen over the years, I had developed a habit of always keeping mine tied up and out of the way. I brushed it out and pinned it back from my face with a plain gold clip—also bought at the drugstore.

  I slipped into the dress, shoes, and jewelry. Then I tucked a few dollars and my silenced cell phone into the matching clutch purse the saleslady had thrown on the pile. I sat on the edge of the bed for a minute, collecting my thoughts and my courage. My purse buzzed, and I pulled out the phone. It was Skyla again. I considered answering it, but feared Val might have wrestled her phone away from her after all, so I let it go.

  Even in the boat’s cramped interior, I heard nothing from Thorin until the moment he knocked on my door. He had moved about, silent as a ghost. “Are you ready?” he asked through the door.

  I took a deep breath and opened the door. “I guess so,” I said.

  In an expertly tailored black jacket and slacks falling perfectly over polished shoes, Thorin struck me in the same way as a force of nature: the potential for great strength and destruction packaged as a thing of awesome beauty. Like a thunderstorm. Who is he? James Bond? Storing suits in multiple locations, just in case? I didn’t see him carry luggage onto the yacht, but then he may have packed the suit earlier, planning to attend this dinner some time ago. His decision to bring me along had probably been made on a whim.

  Thorin returned my gaze, his normally solemn face now fierce, his dark eyes almost black. I shivered. “You don’t approve?” I asked.

  Thorin blinked, and some of the harshness fell away. “You are radiant,” he said, his voice thick and husky. My heart sped to a quick pitter-patter. “But I am reminded of your fragility. Like a ray of sunlight, you are beautiful.”

  “It sounds like a compliment,” I said, “but the tone of your voice and the look on your face say otherwise.”

  Thorin nodded. “It’s also ephemeral, insubstantial, and so easily smothered.”

  If Thorin meant his words to gouge me, they had the opposite effect. I’d thought he and I had found a rapport in our recent time together, but he proved me wrong. I made a mental note not to make assumptions about him again. I squared my shoulders and raised my chin. “As if anyone could put out the sun.”

  A smile tugged at the corner of Thorin’s mouth. “Big ta
lk for a little girl.”

  “Is there a particular reason you want to antagonize me?” I put a hand to my hip and raised a petulant brow. “Did I use up all the hot water so you had to take a cold shower and this is your revenge?”

  Thorin’s hand slithered up my arm; he wrapped his fingers around my biceps. “Your bravado and flippancy won’t fool the people you meet tonight. I don’t tell you these things in an attempt to bruise your ego. I want you to appreciate that the danger you face is real. You must be aware, and it would behoove you to talk as little as possible.”

  “Behoove?” I said. “Which century did you drag that up from?”

  Thorin’s temper went blacker, and his grip on my arm tightened.

  “You don’t have to warn me,” I said. “I assure you I am thoroughly freaked out, but if you’re acting this way because you’ve changed your mind about bringing me along, then say so. Your brute force won’t intimidate me. If you’re waiting for me to chicken out, then we’re going to be very late for dinner. I was a coward for most of my life. I have since gotten over it.”

  “That was before certain new realities were presented to you,” he said.

  I tugged my arm, and Thorin released it. I started to tell Thorin where he could shove his certain new realities, but thought better of testing his temper further. “I’m not running away,” I said. “If you’re afraid this is too dangerous for me, then you’d better do your best to keep me safe.”

  My bold talk gave me the nerve I needed to get past Thorin, up the stairs, across Mjölnir’s deck, onto the dock, and into the marina parking lot before my knees began to knock. Thorin followed me and guided me toward a black town car waiting to whisk us to the hotel. The chauffeur held open the back door for me, but I didn’t dare say thank you for fear my teeth might clack and give me away.

  When the car stopped in front of the hotel, Thorin reached across me and grabbed the door handle to prevent me from pushing it open. “You are my guest this evening,” he said. “You should allow me to treat you as such.”