“If I can forgive you for shooting me, you can forgive yourself for shooting me.”
“It isn’t that simple.”
“It doesn’t need to be that difficult. I’ve always loved you, Wren. Even at your worst, I’ve loved you.”
“Skip, I’m poison. Everything I’ve touched I’ve ruined.”
“That was then. You’ve changed. You’re sober.”
“For how long? I’ll always be an addict, and you are a trooper. Do you know the statistics for relapse? I have a seventy percent chance of using again.”
“And a thirty percent chance of not, which gets smaller and smaller every year you stay sober.”
“I move back to Egegik, and it will be a hundred percent. There’s a reason I haven’t been home.”
“He can’t hurt you anymore. You’re stronger, he’s weaker. I won’t let him near you.”
“You can’t protect me twenty-four/seven.”
“We don’t have to live in Egegik.”
She scoffed. “Right, your entire family is there. Generations of Ozuwans have lived in Egegik.”
“A lot have left too.” He reached for her hand. “It isn’t the same without you. Nothing is. I’ve waited a long time, Wren. If I need to wait longer, I will.”
Tears choked her throat, and she buried her face in the crook of his neck. “I’m not good enough for you.”
“Nobody’s good enough for me. I’m quite the catch. Besides, I want someone who will challenge me, and nobody challenges me like you do.”
“But—”
“No buts. Work with me. Tell me what you are really afraid of. Or have you been lying to me about the contractor dude.” He stiffened. “Are you in love with him?”
She gave a short laugh. “There is no contractor dude. Well, there is. But I hired him. He built me some bookcases, and now he’s working little by little on my kitchen.”
“There isn’t anything romantic going on?”
“Nope.”
“You haven’t slept with him?”
She leaned up on her elbow and looked at him, her eyes serious as the snow now softly falling outside the windows. “Skip, the only man I’ve ever slept with is you. There was this ‘almost’ incident in jail where this woman wanted—”
She didn’t finish as he reached up and pulled her down to him, sealing her words with a kiss that lit her internal furnace.
When he ended the kiss, he gazed lovingly into her eyes. “There’s been no one for me either. Only you.”
“You mean...”
“Yep,” he said with a silly smile. “The last person I had sex with—not counting myself—was you.”
“You haven’t had sex in five years?”
“You couldn’t tell how rusty I was?”
She shook her head. “Though it does explain the constant hard on,” she tried to joke.
“Wren, you were my first, my only. You’re everything. Marry me, love me, make a life with me.”
Her heart melted, and tears sprain to her eyes. “Skip.” Her words shuddered on a sob as the impact of his words sank into her. How could this man love her so much?
“Say yes. It’s such a short, simple, happy little word.”
She took his face in her hands and gently kissed his lips. “Yes.”
“Oh, thank you God.” He kissed her, relief and love mixed in with a desire that would never be sated. “Now, give me three little words that I’ve waited years to hear from your lips again.”
“I love you, Skip Ozhuwan. Only you, always you.”
***
They woke the next morning to sun shining, snow melting, and the whoop, whoop of helicopter blades.
Skip groaned. “Sounds like the Coast Guard found us.”
“Do they have to be so damn reliable?” Wren asked with a sexy stretch. “I had plans for this morning.”
She leaned over and kissed him. He loved the feel of her pressed against him and the rightness of the moment. The promise of a new day, a new life, with the woman he’d always loved.
He moaned around her kiss, loathe to break it off, but they needed to get moving. “Save that thought for later. We need to hurry and get dressed. Not only are they reliable, they’re damn fast too.”
Sure enough, they heard a man running up to the plane, his boots crunching in the snow.
Wren reached for her sweatshirt, but not before the man opened the door and was halfway inside the cockpit. With a squeak, she grabbed the covers and pulled them up to her chin, uncovering Skip’s nakedness.
“Morning!” The Coast Guard crewman greeted. “Glad to see you two made it through the night.” He nodded to Skip and tried unsuccessfully to hide a smile. “Officer Ozhuwan, I see you’re conducting the correct deferment method of hypothermia.” He addressed Wren, “Ms. Wren, nice to see you, and that the two of you are back together again.”
“Leroy,” Skip said, worried over how Wren was taking all this attention, “give us a few minutes, would you?”
“Yes, sir.” Leroy ducked out of the plane.
“Don’t tell me, that’s—”
“The kid you used to babysit, yeah.”
Leroy popped his head back into the plane, his eyes shut. “Sorry, just thought I’d mention your sister and her intended are impatiently waiting in the chopper. She is really, and I mean really, worried about the condition of her wedding cake.”
“Leroy, you might as well leave us here. It’ll be safer for everybody.”
Wren giggled, then laughed long and loud, falling into his one-armed embrace, where she’d always belonged.
The realization that he could be waking every morning with her in his arms, had emotion bursting forth. “Wren, before our lives become hectic with this rescue, the wedding, and Jim’s funeral, I need you to know that no other woman could impact my soul the way you always have, always will. I don’t want to lose you again.” He didn’t think he’d survive a second time.
The love in her eyes deepened, and she reached up to smooth the worry lines in his face. “You won’t lose me. I’ve missed you so much, Skip. You’re not just the love of my life, you are my best friend. Don’t worry, I’m strong enough now.”
Moisture collected in his eyes and throat. He hadn’t realized how afraid he’d been that he’d truly lost her five year ago. Or that after last night and the light of this morning, the reality of a future with him would be too much for her. He shouldn’t have doubted his resilient, little wren. “I love you with everything that is in me and as soon as we get through this week, I don’t want to wait another day to marry you.”
“Do we have to wait until then?” She gave him a crafty smile. “I’m sure your sister has a perfectly good priest we could maybe borrow after her ceremony. Want to elope with me?”
Bet your ass, he did.
The End
Sample chapter for
HOOKED
a novel in the Alaskan Adventure series
by Tiffinie Helmer.
Prologue
She’d always known she’d die this way.
The strong tidal current dragged her farther into the unforgiving depths of the Bering Sea. She kicked and lashed until her limbs grew heavy, cold. Useless. Everything inside her screamed. She was too young. She had too much to live for.
She had to kill that fucking bastard.
Salt water burned and blinded. Filled her mouth and nose. Smothered and squeezed the life out of her.
She’d cheated this bitch of an ocean fifteen years earlier, but she wouldn’t again. She’d never been destined to live through the sinking of the Mystic.
Pain exploded in her chest, and her lungs flamed with the need for air.
Blackness swallowed her.
Chapter One
Sonya Savonski screeched her ATV to a stop alongside the dirt runway as the puddle jumper touched down. The prop airplane had just made the fifteen-minute hop from King Salmon to the small fishing village of South Naknek, Alaska.
“That was not a
fair race,” Peter hollered, parking his four-wheeler next to hers.
“Only because you lost.”
“I’m towing a trailer,” he pointed out, tossing his head to the side, and clearing his eyes of dark hair. At seventeen, Peter hated to lose at anything.
“An empty trailer,” Sonya said. “It comes down to the better driver, little brother.”
The plane taxied toward them, the noise deafening. The engines thundered down and welcomed silence followed. A door opened, and passengers began to climb out. Most gazed around, not surprised by the wind-whipped banks, low-lying tundra, and the gray-green waters of the Bering Sea promising adventure, money, and possibly death. This wasn’t the tourist-friendly part of Alaska.
Fuel and exhaust mixed with salty sea air and the smell of fish. Call her crazy, but it was a scent Sonya loved. The scent of fish meant money. Hopefully this fishing season they’d get stinking rich.
“There they are.” Peter pointed to their grandparents as they stepped down from the plane.
Gramps chatted animatedly while Grams seemed to listen with rapt attention. Sonya knew that look. Margaret Savonski was woolgathering.
Peter rushed up to them, and Gramps’ face spilt into a grin as he grabbed him in a man hug. It had been weeks since they’d all seen each other. Sonya and Peter had headed out to open camp for this summer’s commercial sockeye season, knowing it would be one for the books—they were drifting and set netting this year.
Their nonconformist plan was bound to upset some fishermen.
Gramps greeted her with a bear hug. “How’s my favorite granddaughter?”
She responded with the expected, “I’m your only granddaughter.”
Nikolai Savonski’s dark brown eyes twinkled, and dimples cut deep grooves in his salt-and-pepper whiskered cheeks. A navy seaman’s cap hung lopsided over his thick wave of silver hair. He was a breed apart.
“Nikky,” Grams said, “you and Peter get the bags, while I say hello to Sonya.” Margaret, with her regal bearing, immediately had the men jumping to do her bidding. The sweet-as-sugar smile, which accompanied the request had paved a long road of men bending over backward to fetch anything she needed. The woman had skills.
“Sonya, my girl, I’ve missed you.” They embraced. “I’ve been too long in the company of men,” she said, indicating Nikolai. He and Peter were powwowing with a group of fishermen waiting for the plane to be unloaded. “We must make time for some girlie stuff before the season starts.”
Girlie stuff on the Bering Sea of Alaska? They’d have a better chance locating an ice cream shop.
“We’ll make a point of it,” Sonya said, her attention snagged by Gramps who’d thrown his head back and let loose with a booming laugh. He was conversing with a sandy-haired man. The man had broad shoulders powerful enough to haul in a boatload of fish without breaking a sweat. Gramps motioned for Sonya to hurry over.
“Looks as though Nikky has another suitor to introduce you to.” Grams chuckled while smoothing her platinum—never gray—curls back from her face as the Bristol Bay wind puffed teasing gusts around them.
Sonya moaned and moseyed over to Gramps and Peter. For some reason, her grandpa had decided she needed to get married. She was only twenty-nine for heaven’s sake. There was plenty of time for that nonsense, but Gramps was bull-headed, so she went to be paraded in front of another “potential.”
“Sonya, I’d like you to meet Garrett... uh ...what’s your last name?”
Great. He was so desperate to get her hitched that he wasn’t bothering to screen the men anymore. For all they knew, this man could have murdered a string of women.
Peter turned his head to the side and snickered.
“Hunt,” the stranger supplied. “Name’s Garrett Hunt.” He reached out a hand for her to shake. “It’s nice to meet you, Sonya.”
Yeah, yeah, blah, blah, she wanted to say, but then her attention caught on his ice-blue eyes. Eyes that color shouldn’t project heat. Somehow she found her hand happily engaged in his. It wasn’t just his eyes that gave off heat. A slight smile crooked his lips.
“Same,” she said, “to meet you, that is.” She gave Garrett Hunt a second look. The man wasn’t handsome... more interesting. Tough, muscled, and weathered. He looked like he could hold his own in any situation. Anywhere. Anytime. Chiseled jaw, sharp cheekbones, spiky military haircut, with a scar by his left temple. The only thing soft about him was his lips.
Dang, she did not need this kind of distraction this summer.
“Well, how do you like that?” Gramps commented with a hum, breaking Sonya out of her trance and reminding her of where she was. Gramps slapped Garrett on the back. “How about you join us for dinner tomorrow night? Red Fox Camp is about five miles down the beach. Can’t miss it. We should be ready for company by then, don’t ya think, Sonya?”
“Uh... sure.” Even though she wanted to tell her grandpa to keep his busybody nose out of her business, she couldn’t.
Garrett gave her that crooked smile again. It was quite sexy on him. “I’d like that.”
“Hunt!” the pilot of the plane hollered, walking toward them carrying a surfboard. “You have any idea how hard this was to stuff into my plane?”
“Thanks, Harry,” Garrett said, taking ownership of the board. “I appreciate you making the room.”
Surfboard?
“You owe me a drink for it,” Harry said. “I plan on collecting as soon as I get that swarm of fishermen flown over here.”
“You got it,” Garrett said.
Harry waved them goodbye and boarded the plane for the return hop to King Salmon. The fishermen were all coming in now that the fishing season would be opening in a few days. In that amount of time, the population went from around a hundred to thousands.
“What are you going to do with that?” Peter asked, eyeing the surfboard.
“Surf,” Garret said.
The man was a nut. Gramps had to stop introducing her to just anyone. She looked at her grandfather and was glad to see that even his brows had risen in question.
“Why?” Peter asked.
Yeah, why, Sonya thought.
“For fun,” Garrett said with a grin.
“Nobody gets in that ocean for fun.” Sonya shivered. “You only get in it when you’re forced to.” The memory of the last time she’d been in that deadly ocean sliced through her like a cutting edge of an arctic wind. The freezing water, the screaming, the terrorizing silence. Death.
“Well...hmm...hope to see you at dinner,” Gramps said, dragging Sonya back to the present. “Wait a minute, Garrett.” Gramps took another look at the man, as though sizing him up. “You military?”
Garrett nodded. “Former SEAL. You?”
Gramps’ smile stretched from ear to ear. Garrett had seen through the meddling grandparent to the seasoned warrior beneath. “Merchant Marines.”
“Combat?” Garrett asked.
“Vietnam. You?”
“Iraq.”
Nikolai nodded to the surfboard. “Well, being a SEAL explains the water toy.” He then offered his hand for Garrett to shake. “Very much looking forward to seeing you at dinner.”
Garrett shook his hand. “It was nice meeting you, sir.” He looked at Sonya. “And your family.”
***
Garrett pursed his lips and whistled under his breath as Sonya Savonski swaggered away from him, easily toting a duffel bag over her very capable shoulders. She wore a ball cap with a ponytail of dark hair hanging out the back. It seemed to tease him as it bounced in time to her step. She was garbed in faded jeans, and a t-shirt with a picture of a king salmon. The words, “Size Does Matter” blazed in red lettering across her ample breasts.
Now there was a woman. Full mouth, full breasts, full hips. The trifecta. He’d never been able to resist that sexy combination.
She must have sensed his scrutiny for she glanced back over her shoulder. He smiled. She frowned. He smiled wider. This summer was showing some prom
ise.
Sonya sidled up to her four-wheeler, and Peter mounted behind her. Nikolai had commandeered the other ATV for him and his wife. In a cloud of dust, they took off rumbling down the dirt road.
Garrett was definitely showing up for dinner.
Waiting for his own ride to manifest, he took a moment to look around. South Naknek didn’t have the postcard beauty of the Kenai Peninsula that he’d flown out of that morning, but it had a rough and ready appeal. An appeal that fit his mood as of late. He could use some getting back to nature and there wasn’t anything but nature at present. He’d spent too much time indoors, riding a desk, and needed some space around him. Nothing but space here. The only building next to the dirt-packed runway was a six-by-eight shack with a broken window and a doorway with no door. Someone with a sense of humor had painted a sign on the shed that read, “South Naknek International Airport.”
There wasn’t a tree to block the wind or the view. Bright green tundra with the bloom of summer ended in silt cliffs that broke the ocean as she tumbled her destructive way to shore. Industry dotted the coastline in the form of canneries to help process the catch of the “Red Salmon Capital of the World.”
As an Alaska Wildlife Officer, he’d come to this place under the guise of policing the craziness that the combination of money and cutthroat fishing brought out in people.
“Yo, Hunt!”
Garrett turned from surveying the area to see Judd Iverson stepping out of a brown Jeep. Garrett hadn’t seen Judd in two years, but he looked as though he hadn’t changed much, still had that playful swagger as though he hadn’t a care in the world. Judd had grayed more at the temples, but it looked good on him. Straight dark brows slashed over eyes that noticed the slightest infraction, unless a woman was in the vicinity. It would be fun working with Judd again, as long as Garrett remembered not to be coerced into joining in any poker games.
“Iverson, you dog. How ya been?” he asked, slapping his hand out for a bone-crushing shake.
“Same as ever.” Judd focused on the surfboard. “Couldn’t have left the board at home, could you?”
Impact (Wild Men of Alaska) Page 6
