High Risk

by Simona Ahrnstedt

  “Last night . . .” he started, but he was interrupted by Tareq returning to the table. Ambra’s face lit up in relief. Tom studied the considerably younger and more handsome man with a frown. A thought struck him. Was something going on between the two of them?

  “Everything good? You gonna be okay?” Tareq asked without sitting down. He was rocking on his heels.

  “What do you mean?” Ambra asked suspiciously, her face turned to him. She patted the empty seat next to her. “I’m here with you—are you going to sit?”

  Tareq shook his head and gave her an apologetic look. “I just wanted to come see if you were good. I met someone.” He gestured over to the bar.

  Ambra crossed her arms. “Are you kidding me? You’re leaving again?”

  “Not leaving. Just sitting over there.” Tareq flashed his blinding smile. “Plus, you have Tom.”

  “Yeah, you have me,” Tom murmured.

  Ambra ignored him. “So you’re dumping me?” she asked Tareq.

  He held up his arms in appeal. “There’s dumping and dumping. Please?”

  Ambra snorted.

  “He’s a firefighter and he plays ice hockey,” Tareq continued.

  Tom didn’t say a word, but he followed their exchange with interest.

  “I’ll snitch to Grace,” Ambra sulked, but he could hear she had given up. “Tell her you’re unreliable. You’ll be covering C-list celebrities’ weddings once I’m done with you. Fine, fine, go.”

  Tareq smiled, thanked her, and disappeared back toward the bar.

  Tom couldn’t help it. He was happy that Tareq turned out to be gay. Ambra watched him push his way over to a big blond man by the bar.

  She leaned back and put one arm on the armrest. “This visit to Norrland is going to go down in history as the trip when every man I met dumped me,” she said.

  Tom was close to smiling. “What a negative attitude. The night is young. I’m sure you’ll find someone, if that’s what you want.” They both looked out at the sea of laughing, dancing men. Ambra raised a long, dark eyebrow.

  “Well, maybe not here,” Tom agreed.

  She pushed a strand of hair from her face. Dark hair, pale skin. She was an attractive woman. Right then, he couldn’t believe he had said no to her. If only the circumstances were different . . . There was just something about her.

  “It’s been a strange trip,” Ambra said drily.

  * * *

  Ambra looked over to the bar. It was crowded with men and the odd woman. Tom followed her gaze, and while his head was turned, she took the chance to sneak a look at his body. It was so long since she’d last had sex, and even though the man was a damn idiot, there was something about him she found undeniably attractive. He was wearing a black T-shirt—without any slogans this time—and he had enormous biceps. She wasn’t the only one stealing glances at him. Lots of the other people were too.

  She hadn’t been given a single one.

  Like she said, this trip was far from an ego boost. But still, it was good that Tom had turned up like this. After her initial shock, she’d played it cool and eventually managed to salvage some of her battered pride. She glanced at him again. It was pure reflex. Such a shame it hadn’t gone anywhere with them. All her girly parts were drawn to him.

  “Did you say something?” Tom turned around and was now looking at her attentively. She could have sworn something happened between them, and she found herself lost in his serious eyes. But she had already gone through this once.

  She shook her head. “Nope. Nothing.”

  Silence.

  And a little more silence. Ambra scratched her ear. Crossed her legs. Glanced around the room. If she hadn’t given up her seat on the plane, she would be home by now.

  “How’s it going over here?” Mattias was back.

  Tom shrugged.

  It was all very well to be primitively attractive, a strong, silent type, but Tom really wasn’t very talkative. She still didn’t fully understand what he was doing in Kiruna. She looked at Mattias Ceder again. His entire being oozed secrecy. And then it all fell into place.

  “You two are in the military, right?” she said, feeling pretty pleased with herself.

  Tom didn’t say a word.

  Ambra waited. Leaned back, crossed her legs. And yes, she was aware that Tom kept stealing the occasional glance. Good for her, but bad for him. He should’ve taken his chance when he had it.

  “I maintain that I’m a technical advisor,” Mattias eventually said.

  “You said consultant before.”

  “Then that’s what I’ll maintain,” Mattias replied without blinking.

  Ambra thought for a moment. “And if I ask off the record?”

  “Off the record, I’m still a consultant,” Mattias replied with a smile.

  She bit her nail, thought deeply. Curiosity was difficult. The reporter in her wanted to run off and Google them immediately. She had already looked up Tom, of course, but there was nothing about Tom Lexington online. That was highly unusual. He didn’t have Facebook, wasn’t on LinkedIn, and while people sometimes avoided social media, there was nothing about him anywhere. Not a single paragraph, not a line, nothing, nichts, nada. That in itself was suspicious. She would put money on Mattias being just as invisible.

  She turned to Tom. “What have you been doing since you finished whatever it was you did in the military?”

  “Captain.” He looked away.

  Ambra scratched her neck. List of things that were easier than getting any answers out of Tom Lexington: Turning things to gold. Waking the dead. Wringing water from a stone.

  “The ex-military types I’ve met are those pumped-up, macho guys who stand on the sidelines, screaming things at people in security courses,” she thought aloud. She wasn’t fond of men like that.

  Mattias grinned. “Tom works on courses like that.”

  Ah, information. Tom probably knew plenty of survival-related things that he could teach others. Though it would be good if he was doing a little better himself. She thought back to the panic attack she’d witnessed earlier. Intuition told her it wasn’t his first. Or his last. There was something that didn’t add up here, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on it. “Do you run those courses up here?” she asked, searching for a way in.

  Tom shook his head again.

  “He’s here because of a woman,” Mattias said with a wry smile.

  Ambra’s fingers stopped drumming. What?

  “What the hell, Mattias,” Tom snapped.

  “I just thought we should lay our cards on the table. I didn’t know it was a secret.”

  “It’s not exactly common knowledge. There was no reason to tell her.”

  Funnily enough, Ambra thought the exact opposite. Actually, it was highly relevant information. “As I recall, you said you were single,” she pointed out in a tone she thought was the perfect balance between cool and mildly interested. Everything made a whole lot more sense now. Another woman. Of course.

  “It’s complicated,” was all he said.

  Yeah, well when were things not complicated?

  “Does she live here?” And where is she now? Why didn’t you celebrate Christmas together? Why did you flirt with me? Kiss me?

  “Technically, it’s over between us. But even if it’s over, it’s . . .”

  Ambra held up a hand. “Complicated. I get it. It’s okay.” And it was okay, in its own depressing way. At the very least Tom hadn’t dumped her because she was the least attractive woman in town; it was because he was in love with someone else. That was probably as it should be, and as soon as she recovered from the news that he was taken, then . . . But he had said he was single. Or had she just imagined that?

  She tried to remember; she really was drunk last night. This was a lot to process. He had a girl. Or, sort of. He was a former soldier. But he still hadn’t said what he really did. The reporter in her told her there was a story here, somewhere.

  Right?

  Ma
ybe Tom and Mattias really were boring consultants or advisors who ran mind-numbing courses and did such uninteresting work that a trip to a gay bar in Kiruna was the most exciting thing they had done in years. Maybe they were here to test out a secret new model car. That would’ve been newsworthy, at least. Grace would have wanted her to explore it anyway. But honestly, she would rather lie naked on a bed of nails than write a story like that. New cars, was there anything more boring? If there was, it would be karaoke.

  Someone was back behind the microphone again, and she could hear the sound of yet another disco tune. Ambra spotted Tareq, that traitor, enjoying it from right up by the stage. Despite everything, it had been a good night. Christmas would soon be over. She was comfortably tipsy—not like yesterday, just nicely relaxed after a few beers. And she had ended things with Tom on a better note. It was good. A calm, relatively uneventful evening in Kiruna. It could have been much worse.

  And then Ambra felt it.

  It started as a low murmur over by the entrance. People elbowing one another in the sides. Whispering, turned heads, wide eyes. The noise rose, and the buzzing spread through the room. Conversations were interrupted and then started again. The excitement grew, became impossible to avoid. It could be anything.

  But somehow Ambra knew exactly what was happening. She had experienced it before, and knew there were few people in the world who could have this impact on a room. She happened to know one of them very well.

  She was sure of it before she even turned around.

  Jill had arrived in Kiruna.

  Chapter 14

  Jill Lopez stepped into the lively club, then came to a halt in the middle of the floor. Though she was wearing her contact lenses, she still couldn’t see all that well, and so she stood there, taking in the room and the atmosphere, trying to orient herself without squinting.

  The room was mostly full of men, almost exclusively men, actually. Rustic décor—everything seemed to be made from pine and reindeer skin—but she was met by a special kind of energy. It took a while before she realized what it was. A gay bar. Perfect. She’d decided to come here on a whim and had already forgotten what the place was called. Ludvig had organized everything, and she’d begun regretting it when she was only halfway there, wondering what she was doing, but now she was here.

  She slowly made her way forward through the whispering, photo-taking crowd. Plenty of celebrities complained about all the cell phone cameras, as though their star status was somehow disconnected from the public, but not Jill.

  The first six years of her life had been devoid of any love. Then she was adopted by a childless Swedish couple. That was the short, PG version in any case. The one without the violence, terrible conditions, and a life journey that might have ended in drugs and death. Instead, she discovered music, and that was the story the papers told, focusing on her natural talent and success. Jill loved her fans and the devotion they gave her. She posed for selfie after selfie, working her way through the sea of people. Ambra was here, thank God, sitting at a pine table with a huge man dressed entirely in black. Jill sensed rather than saw them.

  She signed a few autographs, glanced over to the table, and gave Ambra an apologetic smile. Almost there. The black-clad man said something to someone next to Ambra, and Jill spotted another man. He was big, too, but not quite so broad-shouldered. More wiry, with brown hair, a serious face, and knife-sharp eyes that looked her up and down. She noticed a quick flash of recognition and then nothing. That was actually quite unusual, and she felt an unexpected wave of irritation. Surely he had more to offer than that?

  She posed for a few more selfies, blew a kiss, and then made it over to the table.

  “Hello,” Ambra said, not getting up. They never hugged, and part of Jill was grateful for that; she hated the forced hugs and kisses on the cheek she was always being subjected to. Ambra never was the hugging type anyway. Though maybe it was because both of them had been too fucked up by their childhoods to act like normal people.

  “Hi,” Jill said, and she studied the two men. They were straight; she could see that immediately. She gave Ambra a speaking look.

  “Tom, Mattias, this is my sister,” Ambra said obediently. “Jill,” she added, as though they didn’t already recognize her. Jill couldn’t remember the last time she met anyone who didn’t know who she was. Barely a week passed when she wasn’t in a paper. She was the face of a global beauty brand, and she was often on TV.

  “Hi,” the man with the dark eyes said. Tom.

  “Hey,” said the other. Mattias.

  “What’re you doing here?” Ambra asked.

  It was a good question. “I was in the neighborhood . . . ?”

  Ambra shook her head. “Last time we spoke, you were almost 200 miles away.”

  It was a pure impulse, from start to finish. But it was also a long time since they’d last seen each other, and she was so tired of Ludvig and hotel rooms.

  “We left after your message, checked in, and I asked for you at reception. I ditched my assistant at the hotel and came here.”

  “You’re insane. Why didn’t you call first?”

  Jill shrugged, didn’t want to admit that she hadn’t said anything because she was afraid of a no. Better to travel up unannounced than to be turned down over the phone.

  “I always wanted to see . . .” She trailed off, couldn’t quite remember where she was. She glanced at the two men again. No glittering eyes, no flirty laughs, nothing that even remotely suggested they saw her as a woman, as a sex object, or the celebrity she was. What a strange pair. But that was Ambra. She hung out with weird people. Maybe it was a bad idea to turn up unannounced after all. Ambra always did hate surprises. But Jill was restless, it was a few days until her next show, and she’d never had much control over her impulses.

  “How do you know one another?” she asked. She couldn’t work out the strange trio in front of her.

  “We don’t know one another,” Ambra said as Tom replied, “Ambra and I celebrated Christmas together.”

  “Celebrated Christmas together?” Jill asked, intrigued. Ambra never celebrated Christmas. That was something they had common, their hatred of the holidays. Ambra because she dreamed of impossible things, and Jill because she just hated everything that didn’t revolve around her.

  “We ate and we drank, that’s all.” But Ambra looked embarrassed, and Tom squirmed in his seat. Did she dare hope her sister had gotten laid? Probably not. Ambra was useless when it came to men.

  “And you?” Jill said, turning to Mattias. “How do you fit into this triangle?”

  “I got here this morning, so I don’t really fit in at all.” His voice sounded educated: He spoke clearly and with some kind of upper-class accent. He sounded smart. She didn’t like smart men. Ambra called it her education complex; Jill called it self-preservation. Another man came over, but unlike all of the others at the table, he was grinning.

  “This is Tareq, my freelance photographer.” Ambra introduced him. Tareq was young, dark-haired, and looked like a model.

  “Jill Lopez. I’m a huge fan,” he said, his voice full of reverence.

  “Glad to hear it, Tareq,” said Jill. Finally. Someone acting normally.

  “Like Ambra said, I’m a photographer. Would it be okay if I took a few pictures?”

  “Tareq, she’s not here on business,” Ambra said warningly.

  “I’m sure I can handle a few photos,” Jill said. She got to her feet, smoothed out her dress, and posed. Several of the other patrons took the chance to snap a few photos. From the corner of her eye, she saw Ambra, Tom, and Mattias watching the spectacle.

  Jill sat down, and Tareq snapped a few more pictures before he put down his camera. “My God, I had no idea you were friends. I follow you on Instagram.”

  “We’re sisters,” said Jill.

  Tareq gave Ambra an accusing look. “You never said you were related to an icon.”

  “Mmm, I wonder why,” Ambra replied drily.


  “We don’t talk about it much,” said Jill.

  The truth was, they never talked about the other publicly. They never commented on each other’s posts on social media. Jill never discussed her background in interviews, and Ambra never said anything about anything, so the fact they were foster sisters wasn’t common knowledge.

  “What are you doing up here?” Jill asked. Had they already talked about that? Ah, she couldn’t remember. She stretched out her legs and studied them while Ambra talked. When she looked up, she realized Mattias was staring.

  “Are you listening?” Ambra asked, and Jill nodded, though she had only been half paying attention while Ambra talked about some old lady she’d interviewed. Of all the things Ambra thought important, it was her job as a brow-beaten, underpaid journalist that Jill understood the least. There was always some poor soul Ambra wanted to write about, someone who needed saving or rehabilitating. She didn’t get it.

  Loud music started to rise above the murmur, and Jill smiled. It was one of her songs. A five-year-old disco tune still played so often that she would probably be able to live off the royalties from it alone. It was one of three or four songs she always had to sing at shows or fans would be disappointed. She waved a thanks to the barman, and he turned up the volume. She laughed, and he blew her kisses with both hands.

  “Please, Jill, could you get up onstage and sing?” A beefy blond guy who couldn’t have been much older than twenty had come over to their table. Several others joined him, forming a choir of pleading. She felt the weariness in her body, really just wanted to sit down. But she flashed them a glittering smile. “One song,” she said, getting to her feet. People applauded. She quickly bent down to Ambra. “Where are we?”

  “Kiruna,” Ambra mimed, and rolled her eyes.

  Jill stepped up onto the small stage and looked out at the room. The faces toward the back were hopelessly blurred. Silence spread throughout the club.

  “Hi, Kiruna,” she said, and the applauding and whistles went on until she gestured for them to stop.

  She hadn’t warmed up her voice, and she had no idea which song they were planning. Cell phone cameras were held in the air. She shook her hair behind her back, grabbed the microphone with both hands, closed her eyes, and waited for the music to start.