Taming Alaska (So Not Prince Charming Book 1) (26 page)

He grins wickedly. “There are lots of ways to die out here.”

Don’t I know it.

He guides me along the river and up through rocks, climbing higher. After last night’s rest, my body has been recharged. I carefully scale the rocks that are slicked with ice, slipping a few times and banging my shins and knees. I don’t need any more bruises, but that’s the least of my worries given Loki intends on killing me. With his bad leg, the climb must be harder for Loki. He cries out a few times.

After we’re a few hundred feet up, he shoves me out onto the snow and ice of the mountainous ridge. He’s breathing hard, but so am I. Deep crevasses yawn open in front of me. When I sink thigh-deep into the snow, my heart freezes. I fall down onto my butt, my gloved fingers digging into crusty snow. Leaning over the edge, I stare into the blue abyss. I swallow what feels like rabbit fur sticking in my dry throat. Dizziness fills my head, so I sit down away from the edge of the crack in the ice.

Dying in some dark, freezing ice hole is not going to happen. His bum leg breaks through the ice, so he points the rifle at me. He crawls out of it while not letting me out of his sight, his finger on the trigger. An even deeper hole gapes open behind him.

I tug the pack to my front to get out the bear spray or anything of use. If he shoots me, then the cops will know I didn’t die from exposure or falling into one of these holes, but that’s only if they find me.

“Give me your pack,” he says, extending his hand while pushing up on his hands to his feet.

I clutch onto it.

“Give it to me.” He thrusts his gnarled, calloused hand at me.

Oh, I’ll give it to you. While holding onto the strap, I swing my backpack at him, catching him in his wounded shoulder.

“Ahh,” he cries out, staggering backward. The ice gives way underneath him. His rifle goes off, so I drop to the ground and lie flat on the snow.

Loki claws at my jacket. The rifle slides into the crevasse but is caught on a ledge within his reach. The abyss is so deep I cannot see the bottom. I take in ragged breaths and fight off the panic gaining control. With one hand holding onto me, he uses me to drag himself out of the hole.

As I shimmy backward, a hairline fissure spawns from underneath Loki and zigzags toward me. When it pops and crackles under my chest, my stomach leaps into my throat. I have to get off this ice.

Using my fist, I smash his hand holding onto me. The ice splits wider under my chest. His grip on me tightens, his weight slowly pulling me into the crevasse. My body tenses, cramping as I dig my toes into the ice. My heart thumps against my breast and blood pulses in my ears.

Loki has both hands on my arms while he climbs up me. He’ll pull me in too. I try to shake him loose, but he keeps scrambling upward, and the ice continues to crumble under me. He has a hold of my pack. I could let it go, but I’d lose my mom’s ring and sneakers.

Oh hell no. I’ll be damned if I give him those. I tug on the pack then slam my fist into the bullet wound on his shoulder. One of his hands lets loose, so I pry the other one free.

Desperation flashes in his eyes. “Don’t. No.”

“That’s for my mom.”

His grasp loosens, and he plummets into the gaping abyss, his eyes wild with fear.

As I scoot back on my stomach, the ice crumbles all around me, and the pack slips from my fingers. I snatch at it, just catching the strap while scrambling backward. The snow and ice I lie on is giving way while my feet search for solid rock.

After getting out of harm’s way and to my feet, I peer over the edge. Loki’s about a hundred feet down, and his legs are bent at an awkward angle. A puddle of blood pools around his head, and the rifle is now out of his reach.

Hurrying away, I clamber down the ridge toward the river, my legs shaky from the exertion and fear. Gasping for air, I rush back to the cabin for the gun and the snow mobile. There’s no way I’ll leave Shane, though the thought of facing his brother knots every muscle in my back and shoulders. What the hell happened to Shane? Is he dead already?

Chapter Twenty-six

Shane

My arms fly up to protect my face from the bear’s razor-like claws while the bear’s musky odor fills my mouth. Just as I expect to be slashed open, Red jumps on top of the bear’s back, driving his knife into the hide of the animal. It lets out a deep-throated howl, swinging around and flinging Red off its back.

I roll over to push myself up, but my leg won’t support any weight. Blood flows from the wound, and I can’t tell if an artery was hit. If it was, I’ll bleed out.

The bear spins back toward Red, its claws long rakes slashing through Red’s parka and exposing his flannel shirt beneath. Despite the nagging gash in my leg spilling blood, I extend my arm to reach for my rifle.

I snatch it up and take aim, but not before the bear’s teeth and claws rip open Red’s gut.

“No,” I scream. It’s Skyler all over again. My heart has been yanked from my chest. I fire off a shot, catching the bear in its hindquarter. The kickback slams into my bad shoulder that’s still bleeding.

Rather than turning on me, the grizzly trots off into the trees, leaving my brother’s guts laid open. I crawl over to him and pull his head onto my lap.

There’s not a damn thing I can do while the steaming blood gushes out of him. Half his shiny intestines spill out of him.

“Damn you,” I cry, trapped between my sense of frustration and helplessness and relentless grief.

“I had to save your sorry ass,” he rasps, blood cresting his lips. His breathing is ragged, and his heart thrums weakly against my arm. He spits out blood. It reminds me of him…of Skyler, finding him in Dad’s arms in the snow. So much blood.

I choke on the tears. “Stay with me, Red.”

He clutches the collar of my parka, tears swimming in his eyes. “Take care of my boy, Shane. I’m sorry. I always fuck everything up. I wish things had been different. You know I love you.”

“I will.” I say, though I don’t know how I’ll care for a child when I go to prison.

I hold him close while we both lose blood. My head feels light, but I can’t let go of Red to tend to my wounds. I rest my head against a tree.

“Member when we went fishing on the Kenai with Dad?” When he laughs, blood dribbles from his mouth. “You were so proud catching that forty pound king salmon. You were just a little squirt.”

My mind replays me holding the fish for a photo, grinning big, while Red and Dad patted my back, proud of my accomplishment. Dad took all of us hunting and fishing, even our little sister Julie. We had fun together growing up in Alaska.

Red’s eyes blink, shutting out the grey clouds hanging over us like death. “Or the first time you shot a moose. The rifle kickback knocked you on your ass.” He chuckles then gags on the blood caught in his throat.

We’ve shared many memories, most of them good, some painful.

“Sky, is that you?” he mumbles, his eyes glazing over. He swallows and stares up at the clouds, a light snow starting to fall.

As I cling to him, his breaths become uneven and finally run out. I hug him to my chest. “Shit. Damn you, Red.”

Cyn has probably left for town by now, then I think about how well she listens and Loki confronting her. We’ll both die alone. I shouldn’t have left her for the bear, then my brother would still be alive.

I close my eyes and give my brother one last squeeze. I reach for my backpack to pull out a bandana. After wrapping it around my leg, I try to stand. Blood pours over the tourniquet. There’s no way I can walk on this without hemorrhaging to death.

With the rifle across my chest, I lie back onto the snow, letting the cold seep into me. I shudder and wonder if I should crawl back to the cabin. I take Red’s rifle. Dad wouldn’t forgive me if I left it because Red used it in Afghanistan.

I stumble down the hill slinging Red’s rifle over my shoulder. I don’t even get a hundred feet when dizziness takes over, promising to suck me under.

My leg cramps. I tumble down the incline while snow plasters my face. Rolling over, I face the cold, wet snow drifting onto me and sticking to my beard.

Cyn, I hope she got away and that she’s in Tonakwa at my dad’s.

Watching my blood pink the snow, I roll over and crawl. I’ll be damned if I’m going to die out here, and I have to find Cyn.

The whining of an engine stirs me from my stupor while I drag myself down the mountain. A smile lights up my face when I see her. She’s okay. A laugh escapes my lips because her naturally black roots overpower the blonde mane.

Where the hell is Loki? She must’ve gotten away, so another grin takes over my face.

She pulls alongside me. “Oh my God Shane, you’re hurt.”

Blood seeps from my wounds. “So you noticed, Princess.” I feel loopy from the blood loss, like I’ve drunk a fifth of bourbon and then some.

Cyn helps me onto the back of the snowmobile then takes my rifle and Red’s to strap them down.

“I’d feel more manly if you’d let me drive,” I tease.

Her pretty brow scrunches up for me. “You’re so pale.”

She takes off her pack and glances behind me. “Oh, shit.” She fumbles for something in her pack and pulls out the bear spray, even though she has my gun strapped on.

I turn around to see the bear charging us. Its teeth are bared. “Give me my Glock, Cyn.”

She drops her pack onto the ground to hold the can with both hands. I struggle for my tied-down rifle.

My grizzly barrels toward us until he’s ten feet from us.

“Spray the damn thing.” Since she isn’t using my handgun, I continue to tug on my rifle.

Just as the bear reaches a few feet from us, it stands on its hind legs, towering and roaring over us. She sprays the damn thing in its nose and mouth. The bear howls, sneezing, its eyes watering, and lowers onto its four paws. It picks up Cyn’s light daypack and trots off.

As she starts to follow it, I snag her jacket to hold her back. “Don’t be stupid.”

“It’s got my mother’s engagement ring,” she cries.

“After I get you settled and the doc stitches me up, I’ll come back out and get your pack.” Unless the bear ditches it somewhere.

“How can you go after the bear in your condition?”

I blow out a breath while knives stab my leg. “I wounded the bear, so it’ll be easy to track, and no one else will hunt my bear. It’s mine.”

Cyn looks around. “Where’s Red?”

Even the mention of his name drills another hole into my heart. “He’s dead. The bear got him.”

Her face crumples. “I’m so sorry, Shane.”

Not as sorry as I am. Her eyes shine with sympathy, and in that moment, I know I love her. “Kiss me, Princess.”

She lightly kisses me on the lips careful not to press on my injured body.

With my good arm, I tug her close, my hand grabbing that bountiful ass. “Kiss me like you mean it.”

She stares after the bear where it disappeared into the trees. “How can you possibly think about sex at a time like this?”

“I already told you that it’s not about sex for me. It’s because I’m with you.”

Her gaze drags over me, and this time her mouth covers mine and she kisses me with the same hunger and yearning that I feel.

“You better get me to the hospital before I die,” I say, breaking the kiss before I pass out.

She smacks my arm attached to my bleeding shoulder. I grit my teeth from the pain shooting up it, and if I weren’t so messed up, I’d grab a handful of her ass to make up for it.

My princess hops onto the snowmobile and revs the engine. “Stupid idiot.”

Chapter Twenty-seven

Cyn

Every bump we hit along the way causes Shane to groan. His usual ruddy complexion has blanched to a dull grey, and that terrifies me. Is he dying? And I didn’t mean to hit his bad shoulder.

I’m a bundle of nerves when we finally reach the town, and I can only describe it as small. The driveway to my ranch is longer than the short row of clapboard buildings. A few people dressed in seal furs waddle into what I imagine is a store, but by the size cannot hold much more than a few pounds of frozen fish and canned goods.

“Are those Eskimos?” I ask, stealing a quick glance at him.

“Yup’ik,” he rasps, clutching his leg that’s oozing blood. If it’s even possible, he looks worse. Worry drops into my stomach, like an anchor.

I scan the town, and nothing’s really marked other than Sally’s, which is probably the saloon. “Where do I go?”

He points at a hut. Chicken wire and rusty nails hold its weathered wooden planks together.

“There?” My nose crinkles. “Are you sure? It doesn’t look safe.”

Shane only grunts his reply, so I stall the snowmobile in front, hop off it, and hurry inside. Sitting behind an ancient desk riddled with wormholes, a man with greying hair and bloodshot eyes looks up at me from where he was apparently sleeping.

He gives me a lopsided grin. “You don’t look familiar, and if it’s not an emergency, I was up late with a moose trampling a hunter.”

I swallow down my tears. “It’s Shane.”

Grabbing a bag, the man jumps to his feet to follow me outside. He examines Shane’s leg before saying, “You stupid son-of-a-bitch. What the hell did you do this time?” He glances at me. “Help me get him into my office.”

With an arm around us both, Shane hobbles into the hut where we help him onto an examining table. Grey light creeps in through the clapboard to expose the dingy interior. When I look around, I see anatomy charts for animals and humans. Who is this man?

“Is he going to live?” I ask, choking down the emotion clamoring to get out.

He laughs, which I take as a good sign. “We can only hope he doesn’t, so I don’t have to keep stitching him up.”

Before closing the curtain, he says to me, “I need to swear at him in private.”

I walk back outside into the snow and search in Shane’s pack for fresh clothes before coming back inside. I throw them on top of the curtain rod.

In the doctor/vet/emergency care hut, I wait behind the curtain while the doctor or whatever he is argues with Shane.

“Just patch me up, Wendell,” Shane says. “I don’t need a lecture.”