Mine Until Moonrise (Lost Harbor, Alaska Book 1)

by Jennifer Bernard

  Why didn’t he sell the Jack Hammer? They could all go on a cruise to Florida with that money.

  He’d rather dive under an iceberg than go on a cruise to Florida.

  And why did he keep dating tourists who never stayed longer than a few nights?

  Easy one. Because they never stayed longer than a few nights.

  It definitely wasn’t the right moment to ask about what happened to the suitcases on the Jack Hammer.

  She’s grieving, he had to keep reminding himself. He knew the strange ways that grief could appear. He’d reacted much the same way himself. For the first few months, he’d barely been civil to anyone. He would have been better off under that iceberg.

  Eventually he got his mother calmed down and drove his truck into town.

  He stopped by the fire station first to talk to Nate, the first responder on the scene of his father’s drowning. He found his old hockey buddy hosing off one of the fire engines out back.

  He’d always liked hanging out with Nate, with his broken nose and laughing gray eyes. But in this case, he got nowhere.

  “I’m sorry, man, but he’d been dead at least half an hour before I got there. He was right there, next to the Jack Hammer. Current was pushing him against the side. I don’t think there’s any mystery there. I found an empty bottle of Scotch rolling around the deck.”

  “What about a suitcase?”

  “A suitcase? Might have been. I didn’t inventory everything on the boat. I was focused on your dad, and had to call for backup to get him into the paramedic van.”

  Nate gave his shoulder a sympathetic squeeze. He’d always been a kind soul. “I’m really sorry. I liked your dad. Had more than a few drinks with him at the Olde Salt.”

  “What about the call to the station, the 911 call? Anything there?”

  “A panicky call from Boris Clancy? Nah. He was riding his bike on the boardwalk and spotted the body. Badger interviewed him. He didn’t have much to say.”

  “He never does.” Boris Clancy was one of the harbor’s most eccentric characters. He carried his pet chicken in a basket on his bike and avoided eye contact at all costs.

  “You know, there is one person he talks to. I mean, if you think he might have more to offer.”

  “Yeah? Who’s that?”

  “The new girl, the cute one with the nature tour. He likes her. I’ve seen her chatting with him.”

  He meant Megan. A shot of … something, maybe possessiveness?… surprised Lucas. Why would he feel anything of the sort about Megan? He shoved the stupid reaction aside.

  “Thanks, man. Appreciate it.”

  “Anything I can do to help, let me know.”

  Was it a lead? Hard to say, really. He’d never had a conversation with Boris because the man always fled at the sight of him.

  After that, he met the producer and camera crew of Trekking at the top of the ramp. The tide was almost dead low, so the ramp tilted at a vertiginous angle. The camera operator eyed it nervously.

  “We’re getting a few shots from up here first,” the producer, Tony LaRousse, explained. He wore a thick down parka and tight black jeans. He was a twenty-something black guy with a mellow, seen-it-all vibe. “Not sure we have enough liability waivers to cover that ramp.”

  Two kids carried a kayak past them, holding it over their heads as they loped down the ramp.

  “You get used to it,” Lucas explained with a smirk.

  “Sure. We’ll work on that. So which boat is yours?”

  Lucas pointed out the Jack Hammer, with its bold, hyper-macho profile.

  “Damn. It’s like the ‘fuck you’ of boats,” said Tony.

  “Yeah, I guess it is. It’s got more horsepower than most of the other charters. It can go farther, faster, so we can get to the deep water holes and back in time for dinner.”

  “The deep water. Where’s that?”

  “Around Far Point’s the best fishing. Currents come in from the ocean, collide with other currents from the bay. You can find a huge variety of fish out there. With halibut, you want a depth of two to three hundred feet. So we have a few secret spots we take people to. I can pretty much guarantee you’ll catch something.”

  “Let’s hope so, because we have to get this into editing soon. Crazy production schedule.”

  “We’ll make sure you get some good footage—” He trailed off as everyone’s gazes turned away from him and toward the water.

  “Now that’s what I’m talking about,” murmured the camera operator as he focused on something. “That’s how you get the eyeballs.”

  “Keep shooting. We’ll worry about the releases later,” ordered Tony.

  Over the steady hum of an engine—it sounded like the Forget Me Not—he could hear the beat of dance music. A party boat? Lost Harbor didn’t have party boats. Everyone here operated very serious fishing-focused operations. Lucas swung around to see what was going on.

  The Forget Me Not cruised slowly through the harbor. Music pumped from the wheelhouse. On the deck, a sexy woman grooved to the beat. She wore a bikini top and cutoff shorts and rubber boots and looked sexy as hell. Her flowing brown hair tumbled over her shoulders. From under white-framed sunglasses, she grinned at Lucas and the camera crew.

  Holy shit. Megan Miller?

  He’d only ever seen her in fishing clothes. Baggy rubberized rain pants, waders, flannel overshirts.

  Boots.

  She wore the same boots as usual, but somehow the effect was completely different with bare legs.

  Damn, she was sexy. Her waist curved inward in a dainty little notch. Her hips flared out—he caught a teasing glimpse of hipbone. The delectable mounds of her breasts nestled inside the cups of her orange bikini top. He imagined his hands there instead, touching that supple skin with its scattering of freckles.

  “Who are they?”

  They? Lucas dragged his gaze away from Megan and saw that Zoe was there too. She was going for the sexy look too, in a belly shirt and form-fitting workout leggings. He usually only saw her behind the counter at her pizza shop, and hadn’t realized what a va-va-voom figure she had.

  But as voluptuous as Zoe was, he couldn’t keep his gaze from straying back to Megan. She always presented herself as the nature-loving bird-nerd science geek. How had he missed the fact that she was also a radiantly sexy woman? Or maybe he had noticed, but had chosen to overlook it for his own peace of mind.

  Someone turned the music up and Megan and Zoe started to dance. Megan beckoned to the crew on the ramp. “Wanna go for a ride? We’ve got room!”

  The producer and the camera operator looked at the ramp again, then shrugged. “I’ll risk it if you will,” said the cameraman. “Wouldn’t mind mixing up the footage with something besides fish.”

  “I like it. An all-female crew running a boat in Alaska. That’s a killer angle. Let’s go.”

  Lucas wanted to point out that Ben captained the Forget Me Not, but then he realized that wasn’t true. Trixie Tran, who ran the best ice cream shop on the boardwalk, was at the wheel. He couldn’t see what she was wearing, but no doubt it was something equally sexy. Hell, Trixie had probably come up with this idea. She was the biggest flirt on the boardwalk—and he said that with all the affection in the world, since Trixie was a gem.

  From the deck of the Forget Me Not, Megan caught his eye and blew him a mocking kiss.

  He shot her a middle finger which he quickly turned into a thumb’s up.

  She drew her finger across her throat and pointed at him.

  He pointed two fingers at his own eyes, then at her—the classic gesture for “watch your back.”

  She turned her back on him with a saucy little flounce of her ass.

  He decided he wasn’t going to win this one, and executed an elaborate bow, like some kind of courtier at Versailles.

  She did a highly annoying in-your-face victory dance.

  Fine. He’d give her this one. Let her think she’d won. Wasn’t he the one who’d suggested the Forget
Me Not to the producers? He sure didn’t need the publicity. But Megan’s dwindling business bothered him. She worked so hard, and her kid was so cute. And Lost Harbor would be a lot duller without her.

  Especially now that he’d seen what she hid under her workaday fishing clothes. The problem now would be how to get that vision out of his mind.

  Maybe it was time to do a reset on things with Megan.

  “I’m going to get the Jack Hammer ready for action,” he said, voice gruffer than usual. “Meet you on the float when you’re done.”

  Chapter Nine

  Megan’s plan had left out one crucial detail: Alaska was definitely not the right place to be out on the water in skimpy clothing. They’d barely reached the breakwater before they all had to put their jackets on. As soon as they left the harbor, the wind chilled them to the bone. Gamely, they kept the music going, and served slices of Zoe’s pizza to the TV crew. Trixie entertained the camera crew with stories of growing up in Lost Harbor. The producer filmed that part, and got a great zoom shot of the lost baby otter, but as soon as Megan explained the true nature of Forget Me Not Nature Tours, his eyes glazed over.

  “I’m sorry, but when people think of Alaska, they want to see extreme weather conditions and gigantic crab legs. Everything bigger and wilder.”

  “We saw a Wandering Tattler the other day. Do you know how rare that is?”

  “No idea. Look, I appreciate the effort, and an all-female crew is definitely worth a mention.”

  “We’re not always all-female. My regular captain is a man. Well, more like a boy,” she admitted.

  “Ah. Well, no matter, we’ll certainly include you for at least three seconds. And we’ll put your website on the page for the show. That’s about all I can offer.”

  Even though it was better than nothing, Megan’s throat tightened with a sense of despair. She could feel this opportunity—this chance to make a living in Lost Harbor—slipping away.

  “I understand. Thanks for coming out with us.” She signaled to Trixie to turn the boat around. The Forget Me Not lumbered in a wide arc to head back to port. “Can I ask what charter outfit you’re going to feature? Is it the Jack Hammer?”

  She couldn’t help it. Just when she thought she’d gotten one up on Lucas, he was going to walk away with the prize after all. And it didn’t even mean anything to him, that was the worst part. Everything always flowed his way. He was the king of his world and all she wanted was a tiny piece of it.

  “Most likely, yes. It’s at the top of our list at the moment. Charismatic captain, tragic backstory. High-powered boat.”

  “Tragic backstory? You mean his father?”

  “That’s part of it, yes. He left behind his million dollar consulting firm to come back here and take over his dead father’s business. He was worried about his mother. That’s pretty compelling.”

  Oh God, now she felt like a jerk for harboring ill will towards Lucas. What was that saying about being kind because you never know what kind of battle someone is fighting?

  But how was she supposed to know if he never exchanged a friendly word with her?

  She staggered as something bumped the boat. A vibration ran through the wooden planks, almost like an electric shock.

  “What the hell…” said Tony, grabbing onto the railing. “What was that?”

  “I don’t know.” She’d never felt anything like it. The water had a normal amount of chop, its surface broken by only a few lines of creamy froth. Had they struck a rock? Had Trixie taken them over a sandbar by mistake?

  An ominous quiet gripped the Forget Me Not.

  “You, with the camera,” shouted Zoe. “Get out there and point at the water off the starboard side. There!” She gestured as the camera man didn’t budge. “Start rolling. Now!”

  All that practice bossing her pizza peons around did the trick. The camera operator hurried to the deck and slung the camera onto his shoulder.

  “There!” called Zoe.

  Everyone looked where she was pointing. A slippery flank of polished black flesh broke the surface of the water. At a deliberate, hypnotic pace, it cut through the waves like a fillet knife through butter, as if water and fish were two sides of the same substance. Not fish—orca.

  Megan automatically switched into nature tour mode. “You’re looking at an orca, commonly known as a killer whale, but there’s no need to worry. Orcas aren’t interested in attacking people or boats.”

  She caught Zoe’s eye as her friend shook her head frantically. Right—this was Trekking. Cue the drama, the life-threatening conflict.

  “That is, fishermen in these parts know to keep a wary eye out for these powerful predators,” she said in a hushed voice. “One snap of an orca’s jaws and an entire catch could be lost. They’ve been known to snatch seals right off the ice. Even though they’re technically dolphins, they’re called ‘killer whales’ for a reason. They’re apex predators who hunt in packs, almost like wolves. If you come face to face with an orca and he mistakes you for a sea lion, your only hope is that he’s not particularly hungry or angry. Or hangry.”

  A muffled snort came from Zoe’s direction. Too far?

  “Will they attack humans?” The cameraman took a step back.

  “Not in the wild. There have been incidents in captivity, but never in the wild. Orcas are truly fascinating. They’re picky eaters, so if one goes after you it’s only because he’s mistaken you for something else. He will abandon the hunt as soon as he realizes his mistake. Orca pods are complex communities with deep family bonds. They’ve existed on this planet far longer than we have, about eleven million years.”

  They all watched the orca’s smooth body slide through the water. The white mark on his neck disappeared under the water.

  “Why don’t they eat humans?” asked the producer, sounding almost disappointed.

  “Unknown. The Tlingit have a legend that explains it. A wood carver created the first killer whale and sent it off to get revenge on his brothers, who had abandoned him. But then he felt so terrible about what he’d done that he ordered the orca never to harm a human.”

  Glancing at their faces, she realized that instead of amping up the drama, she’d done the opposite. She really sucked at this.

  “I should mention that one of the hazards of boating in Misty Bay is the risk of a whale surfacing under your boat. It’s been known to happen in these very waters.”

  The producer’s eyes brightened. “So are we literally in danger at this very moment as we wait for the orca to surface?”

  Probably not, to be honest. Orcas were highly intelligent and knew they weren’t a good food source. But she could fudge it.

  “Until we know where he is, who knows what could happen next?” She waved a hand toward the forested bluffs a few hundred yards away. “We’re nearing Lost Souls Wilderness, and the locals say strange things happen around Lost Souls.”

  A few breathless beats passed while they shaded their eyes and gazed at the water around them. A breeze ruffled the surface and a cormorant swooped past them on black, hooked wings. No sign of the orca.

  A small fish—probably a grayling—broke the surface and disappeared again. The orca had most likely moved on if the grayling felt safe enough to do that. But Megan kept that information to herself.

  With a sigh, the cameraman shifted his focus to the majestic sight of Lost Souls Wilderness. “What can you tell us about that area? Why is it called Lost Souls?”

  Megan glanced at Zoe. “Want to field this one?”

  Zoe seamlessly took over in the same suspenseful tone she’d been using. “Alaska is brutally tough territory. Many of the early explorers died in that wilderness. Countless mariners and fishermen have been lost to the sea. Loss is a constant here, and the name reflects that.”

  “But there are other stories,” Megan added.

  “Such as?” Tony spoke in a tense voice as the cameraman scanned the harsh bluffs and deeply wooded ravines across the bay.

  “We
ll, there’s a local legend about a native tribe that disappeared into the glacier and never came back.”

  The camera swung toward her. She glanced at Zoe and Trixie, who were both frowning and shaking their heads. Oops, was she not supposed to talk about that tall tale?

  She scrambled to correct her mistake. “But mostly, it has a metaphorical meaning.”

  “How’s that?”

  How was that, exactly?

  “A lot of people find their way to Alaska because they’re…looking for something.”

  “They’re lost souls, so to speak,” said Zoe. The camera swung to her. She smiled and picked up a slice of pizza for a nibble.

  “That’s right. They feel like lost souls and somehow they find something here that speaks to them. Like, in Zoe’s case, pizza.”

  Zoe batted her eyelashes over the slice of pizza.

  Trixie joined in next. “I’ve seen it happen many times. People come into my ice cream shop—Soul Satisfaction Ice Cream, isn’t that appropriate?—It’s right on the boardwalk and we have both indoor seating and a few picnic tables outside—they come in looking lost and lonely and by the time they leave they’re thoroughly satisfied and riding a soul-sugar high.”

  Megan bit her lip to keep from laughing.

  “So, now we’re onto the product placement portion,” Tony said dryly.

  “We have sorbet too,” Trixie chirped. “Our blueberries are picked locally.”

  “Okay then, camera off. Nice try. The orca, though, that was good. You got lucky, Megan. Looks like you’ll be getting more than three seconds of airtime.”

  Chapter Ten

  All in all, Megan was in an excellent mood by the time she trudged up the ramp to the boardwalk. She’d left Ruby with Hunter, a boy whose family ran the Wild North kayak rental business. She found them playing cards on the floor of the office. Lucas’ dog, Fidget, lay just outside, his chin resting on his paws.

  “Are you dog-sitting, Rubes?”

  She bent to scratch the dog’s head. He barely opened one eye, then drifted back to his nap.