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Alaskan Fantasy
Elle James


WHO NEEDED PEACE AND QUIET WHEN YOU HAD ASSASSINS AND A SECOND SHOT AT LOVE? No matter how far he went, Sam Russell couldn't outrun his past. Not even in an epic race across the Alaskan wilderness. But surviving the harsh climate wasn't something Sam could do alone. Returning home to bask in the frozen sun, the last thing Special Agent Kat Sikes wanted was for reality to intrude.But fantasies didn't get any more real than Sam Russell. With his competitive intensity urging her on, she took his racing challenge–determined to beat him at his own game. Despite the subzero temperatures, the heat between them was undeniable. Out of control and breathless, the pair hurtled toward the finish line, only to await one last showdown on the snow and ice.









Alaskan Fantasy

Elle James











www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


I dedicate this book to the many adventurers who participate in the Iditarod race, and specifically to Paul and Evy Gebhardt. These wonderful people took the time to read through this manuscript to make sure I got the details correct on the terrain and equipment. I’d also like to thank my cousin Victor Hughes and his lovely wife, Nancy, who love dogsledding, the dogs and Alaska so much they inspired me to write this story.




Contents


Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen




Chapter One


Snow glittered like a million scattered diamonds in the light cast by the fat, gold moon hovering low on the horizon. Winter in Alaska may be filled with dark days, but its nights were no less beautiful than summer. Silence reigned, broken only by the crackle of the sled runners and the patter of sixteen sets of paws skimming across the icy crust.

Sam Russell tugged the wool scarf down off the lower half of his face and breathed in the frigid, clean air. The moisture in his breath crystallized as it left his mouth. After living in the frozen North for the past four years, he couldn’t imagine returning to the the lower forty-eight states with their noise, traffic and pollution.

His broken engagement and his career change were the best things to ever happen to him. He couldn’t picture his ex-fiancée, Leanne, braving freezing temperatures or enjoying the solitude. She’d have gone stark raving mad without the shopping malls and soirees of her busy social life.

A shiver coursed down his spine and he replaced the scarf over his nose and mouth.

The sight of another sled in the clearing ahead reminded Sam he wasn’t completely alone. Not that he minded Paul Jenkins. Paul was one of the few friends he’d made in his time here.

Although he caught glimpses of Paul through the branches of the spruce trees and lodgepole pine, the trail veered sharply to the right, skirting a jumble of fallen logs crisscrossing the forest floor. Sam leaned to the right and shouted, “Gee!” to lead dogs Hammer and Striker. They turned down the path, the other fourteen dogs following, pulling hard in the traces. The long line of dogs dipped down into a frozen creek bed and back up on the other side.

When the sled hit the bottom of the creek, the runners slammed against a rock hidden beneath the snow and lurched to the right. Sam bent his knees, absorbing the jolt, then compensated for the listing sled by leaning left. The dogs pressed forward, driven by the need to run.

When canines and sled topped the creek bank, the trail opened to the clearing nestled in the pine forest where Paul awaited them. The team sent up a chorus of yelps, their excitement over meeting with others of their kind apparent in the added bounce in their step and the frantic tail wagging.

“Whoa!” Sam stepped on the foot brake and anchored the snow hook in the powder, bringing the dogs to a halt beside Paul and his sled. Hammer and Striker flopped down on the snow, barely breathing hard, their ears perked in anticipation of Sam’s next command.

“About time you showed up.” Paul strode toward him, his boots sinking into snow up to his knees. He pulled his goggles down around his neck and smiled. The man always had an infectious grin, as if he saw something funny in every situation. Paul loved his life in Alaska and wanted everyone to love it right along with him. “Any problems?”

Sam tugged his goggles up on his forehead. “I hit a rock in the creek bottom.”

Dark brows angled down over light blue eyes as Paul shot a glance toward Sam’s sled. “Any damage?”

“It handled beautifully.” He climbed from the runners and sank into the snow.

Paul’s frown cleared. “So, how do you like the new sled?”

“So far so good.” The sled had arrived two weeks ago and he’d been working with it ever since, testing it thorughly before he decided whether or not to use it on the Iditarod. It had to be good to make it in the eleven-hundred-mile race from Anchorage to Nome.

“I’ve been thinking about investing in a new one myself.” Paul scratched at the week-old beard on his chin. “But I’m kinda attached to the one I used last year.”

Sam waved a hand toward his sled and team of dogs. “Want to try it out?”

Paul’s eyes sparkled. “Do you mind?”

“Not at all.” Sam stepped away from the sled. “Did you plan to take them any farther today?”

“No. I didn’t want to work the team too hard with the race only two days away. I’m ready to head back and start packing, if you are.”

“Yeah. I hadn’t planned on going more than ten miles today. Had to replace Jonesy with Trooper and wanted to see how the team reacted to the placement.”

“What happened to Jonesy?” Paul knew all the dogs in the shared kennel and cared as much as Sam or Vic about their well-being, not just because of their importance to the race. They were part of the family.

“Vic said Jonesy was favoring his left shoulder. I didn’t want to chance it with him.”

Paul nodded. “Not with the race so close.”

“Tell you what.” Sam waved at his sled and team. “Why don’t you take my sled back to the house.”

“No need. I’ll just take it a couple miles to get the feel for it. Don’t want to confuse the dogs with a different musher.”

Sam snorted. “They’re more used to you than me. You’re the one who feeds and trains them year-round. I only show up during the wintertime.”

“Yeah, but what I wouldn’t give for the fun job you do. The Anchorage police force isn’t nearly as thrilling as tramping through the woods discovering the next great oil field in the interior.”

Sam had to admit he liked being out in the wild, although sometimes it was lonely. “It’s not as exciting as you make it sound. It’s got its drawbacks. Mainly the politics.”

“Oh, come on. Don’t make me laugh. I’d trade places with you in a heartbeat to get out in the woods more often.” Paul shrugged. “But I know what you mean. We have our own share of politics in the police force, but nothing like what you’re dealing with.”

“Maybe I’ll take you up on that trade. Tramping through the wild with nothing more substantial than an ATV can be hair-raising at times. Especially when you come face-to-face with a grizzly. Although, I think I’d rather face a grizzly than the congressional committees of the White House, any day.”

Paul grinned. “Same here. And I’d rather face a grizzly than a moose. I once stood completely still for two hours waiting for a two-thousand-pound bull moose to finish grazing and move off the trail so I could get by. That damn moose really bit into my finish time on the Yukon Quest. Ended up in fourth place that year.”

“Out of how many entrants?” Sam asked.

“Fifty.”

Sam grinned, shaking his head. “I’m not feeling sorry for you.”

Paul laughed out loud. “I was pretty proud of my placement. Never got that close before. I’m really looking forward to this race.”

“I think you have a shot at the top ten this year.”

“So do you, my friend,” Paul said.

“I’ve only been at it for the past three years, I’m glad just to participate. I wouldn’t even have considered it without you and Vic leading me by the hand.” Sixty-eight entrants were preparing for the race to begin that Saturday, the first weekend of March. Sam still couldn’t believe he was going to run in one of the world’s most famous dogsled races.

“Yeah, thank God for Vic.” Paul pulled his goggles back up over his eyes. “He taught me and Kat everything we know about sledding.”

“Speaking of your sister, isn’t she getting in today? I’m surprised you’re out here running the dogs when she hasn’t been home in a year.”

“She insisted on Vic picking her up at the airport. She knows this close to the race the dogs need to exercise regularly. Her plane got in around five, so she should be at the house by the time we get back.”

“Then we better get going.” Sam shifted the brake and walked to the front of his team. As he passed by, the dogs hopped to their feet, tails wagging, ready to resume the run. Sam reached out, patting heads and checking necklines and ganglines along the way. When he reached Striker and Hammer, he knelt and scratched behind the two dogs’ ears. “Ready for another run, boys?”

Hammer jumped up in Sam’s face, planting a long wet tongue across his cheek.

Sam laughed and wiped away the quickly freezing moisture with the back of his gloved hand. “Line out.” Striker immediately leaned forward in his traces, stretching the length of the tethered team. He kicked up snow and dirt with his back feet like a bull facing a matador, as if reminding the rest of the team he was boss. Hammer was a little slower in the effort, but leaned into his harness next to Striker.

“You teamed them well,” Paul said. “Striker’s the strongest and smartest, but, Hammer has the desire to stay the head of the pack.”

Striker stood still, his brown-black eyes peering intently down his pale red snout. He wouldn’t jump up in Sam’s face unless directed to do so. Striker was the serious, patient lead, chosen for his intelligence and stamina. And in the pecking order among the pack, he was top dog. Even Hammer didn’t cross him without retribution.

“Good dog.” Sam ruffled Striker’s neck and, grabbing the dog’s harness, he led the team in a sweeping circle, turning them to face the direction they’d come.

Paul performed the same task with his team, then strode over to Sam’s sled. “Ready to go? I want to see how this baby flies.”

“You’ll like it.” Sam grabbed the handlebar of Paul’s sled and prepared to follow his friend out of the clearing and back to Paul’s home, where he stayed during the winter months.

Paul clicked his tongue and the dogs shot forward and down into the creek bed. Heading home, they stretched out and ran like the wind.

Sam waited until they cleared the creek bed and then shouted, “Let’s go!” Paul’s team strained against the harnesses as Sam pedaled one foot in the snow until the sled was moving fast enough for him to hop aboard. Down into the creek and back up, they maintained a two-hundred-yard distance behind Paul on the new sled.

The trail wound along the base of a mountain and through the woods, curving with the steep banks of a river.

Sam sank back into the trance of solitude he’d achieved on the trek out. His mind drifted over the snow, erasing all his cares in the wake of the powder stirred up by his runners. This was the life he was meant to lead. No pretense, no corporate clowns calling the shots. Just him, the dogs and hundreds of miles of snow and silence.

Beat the hell out of the shouting matches he had to look forward to in the congressional committee meeting he was due to attend two weeks after the race. The Alaskan senator, James Blalock, wouldn’t listen to him when he’d warned that the initial oil samples weren’t of a grade sufficient to warrant drilling. With all the stink over disturbing the natural order of the Alaskan interior, he thought Blalock would be happy. Sam shook his head. Who knew what the senator was thinking.

Ahead, Paul raced around a sharp bend in the river on the right and disappeared behind a hill to his left.

Twenty yards from the curve in the trail, the silence was shattered by the sound of dogs yelping. Not the excited yelp of running a race, but the kind of barking they used when hurt or frightened. Sam’s heart slammed against his rib cage. What happened? The dogs had been on this path before, they knew the way. Had a moose stepped into the trail?

His team leaped forward without Sam having to encourage them, as if they were just as worried about the other dogs as Sam was about Paul.

When he rounded the corner on the narrow strip of land between the base of the hill and the river below, he didn’t see the sled or the dogs. But the yelping continued. Then he saw the runner marks in the snow leading over the ledge of the steep riverbank.

“Whoa!” Sam hit the brake and jammed the hook into the snow, bringing the team to a halt. He leaped off the sled and stared down the embankment toward the frozen river.

The sled lay sideways on the chunky ice fifteen feet below. Sixteen dogs struggled against their tangled ganglines only making the mess worse. Paul was nowhere to be seen.

“Stay!” Sam shouted to the team on the trail and he scrambled down the riverbank to the snow-covered ice below.

When he reached the sled, he clambered to the other side. There on the cold, hard surface of the river lay Paul, as still as death.



“THANKS FOR PICKING us up, Vic,” Kat Sikes said quietly as the truck ate the miles between Anchorage International Airport and the house nestled in the breathtaking mountains surrounding the city. The ragged peaks were outlined against the starlit night sky, calling to her, welcoming her home.

“I wouldn’t have missed you for the world. We don’t get to see you very often.” He reached across and squeezed her hand. Vic Hughes had been as happy as a little kid to see her step through the security gate. He’d practically crushed every bone in her body hugging her.

Her friend, Nicole “Tazer” Steele had been treated to the same bone-crunching hug as Kat. Unlike Kat’s curly mop flying every which way, Tazer’s shoulder-length, straight blond hair fell back in place leaving her looking like a model poised to step onto the runway. Beneath the blond beauty’s feminine looks was a core of steel. Unarmed, she could drop a two-hundred-fifty-pound man to his knees in seconds. Kat had seen it happen. Thus Nicole had earned her team nickname of Tazer. No one called her Nicole.

Tazer insisted on sitting quietly in the backseat of the SUV. Kat sat up front with Vic. She loved Vic like the father she and Paul lost when they were still in their teens. Vic was the only family they had left in Alaska, a distant cousin, but family nonetheless. Kat struggled to suppress the quick rise of tears. She’d missed Vic and Paul, the dogs and…well, everything about home. Taking a deep breath, she asked, “How are the preparations for the race?”

“Paul and Sam are out exercising the dogs. You should ask them. Paul’s really excited about his team this year. He thinks he might have a chance to win. And Sam won’t do so badly, either. His team’s looking really strong.”

“Is Sam the boarder Paul took in?”

“Sure is.” Vic shot a grin her way. “Nice guy. You’re gonna love him.”

Kat still wasn’t sure whether or not she liked the idea of someone besides family living in their home. Not that she’d been there in over a year. After her husband, Marty, died, she’d felt a distinct tug of jealousy and homesickness that Paul had a friend to keep him company in their family home and all she had was her lonely apartment in D.C.

It had been a year since Marty was killed on an assignment at the embassy in the small African nation of Dindi. A year of loneliness and drifting from one operation to the next, barely able to focus on the mission at hand. Her boss finally insisted she get away and “pull herself together.”

At first she’d resented his inference that she was falling apart. Forced into taking leave, she headed to the only place she knew Marty had never been. It still struck her as ironic that Marty had never seen her home. Paul had always come out to visit them and, with their jobs being so demanding and dangerous, they never got around to doing anything other than brief trips into the North Carolina mountains to bike or backpack. They’d both been dedicated to their jobs and loved the thrill of being Stealth Operations Specialists—ultra-secret agents. But after Marty’s death…

“Is that your house?” Tazer leaned over the back of the seat, staring ahead.

The two-story log cabin perched on the side of a hill, the roof banked in a foot of snow, warm yellow light streaming through every window. Kat’s heart lodged in her throat and tears burned behind her eyelids. She would not cry. Having been raised in a malecentric household, tears were considered worse than the plague. On top of her upbringing, she’d spent time in the army as a criminal investigator and in Washington, D.C., on the Capitol police force before she was recruited to be an S.O.S. agent. Everywhere she’d been tears were taboo.

Kat wasn’t a woman prone to waterworks. At first she’d been glad Tazer had asked to go along with her to Alaska, but now she wished her friend was back in D.C. The homecoming would be twice as hard if she had to wear a game face all the time.

Vic pulled up in the driveway and all three climbed out of the SUV. “I’ll take your luggage in. Loki is around back. He’ll be glad to see you.”

“Loki?” Tazer pulled her collar up around her neck, hunching her shoulders against the frigid breeze.

Kat’s tears pushed closer to the surface as she managed to choke out, “My lead dog.”

“If you don’t mind, I’d like to go in and climb into a cup of really hot coffee.” Tazer stamped her feet in the snow.

“No, please. Vic will show you to your room. I’ll join you for coffee in a few.” Kat took off around the side of the house, knowing if she didn’t, she’d break down in front of Tazer.

As she approached the rows of doghouses, a light sensor triggered the outside flood lamp and a familiar, furry face lifted from his paws. As soon as Loki saw her, he leaped to his feet and barked, his body twisting and shaking in his excitement.

Kat dropped to her knees before the Alaskan husky launched himself into her arms, licking her face and whining at the same time.

Swallowing past the lump in her throat, Kat couldn’t hold back any longer. She wrapped her arms around Loki’s neck, buried her face in his thick black-and-white fur and let the past year wash over her in a tsunami of emotions.

Visions of Marty laughing among the group at the S.O.S. office in D.C., Marty on their wedding day when they’d flown to Atlantic City to get married, and the last time she’d seen him alive as he boarded the plane to Dindi. He’d kissed her goodbye and tapped her beneath the chin. “See ya in a few.”

The only time he’d ever mentioned the L-word had been when he’d promised to love, honor and cherish her until death do us part. And death had parted them only a year after their whirlwind courtship and marriage. Sometimes Kat wondered if they really had been married. A year in the life of an S.O.S. agent was short. With the dangerous work they did, flying all over the world, they’d barely seen each other.

She’d loved him hard, as if each day would be the last. And she felt the pain of his loss no less than if they’d been married fifty years. But she’d learned one thing. Love hurt too much to invest in a second time. “Oh, Loki, it’s so good to be home.”

“Hey!” A voice called out from somewhere down the hill at the rear of the house. “Hey! Help!”

Kat’s head jerked up and she scrubbed the tears from her eyes before she could see a team of dogs and a sled in the moonlight coming across the clearing behind the house. The team was twice as long as the usual team. The sled had a large lump sprawled across it, and a man with a voice she didn’t recognize behind it.

From across the clearing, the man yelled, “Call an ambulance! Paul’s hurt!”




Chapter Two


Sam leaned against the wall of the crisp, clean hospital room, awaiting his chance to speak to Paul alone.

Kat leaned over her brother and pressed a kiss to his cheek. Her dark hair slid across his chest in a cloud of ebony waves. “I’m going to get some coffee.” Kat tucked the blanket up around Paul’s shoulders.

“About time,” he grumbled. “You’d think I was dying or something with everyone hanging around like vultures ready to pick my bones clean.”

“Come on, Tazer. Let’s get that coffee we promised you hours ago before my inconsiderate brother decided to play the kamikaze musher.”

Paul threw an empty pill cup at her. “Out!”

Kat grabbed Tazer’s arm and ducked through the open door.

“See what I have to put up with? I practically kill myself and she thinks I did it on purpose.” Paul shook his head, a grin teasing the corners of his lips.

Sam envied the camaraderie between brother and sister. He let the good vibes chase away the bad as he steeled himself to tell Paul what really happened back on the trail.

By the time Emergency Medical Services arrived, Paul had regained consciousness and insisted he was fine. But because he’d been unconscious and there seemed to be damage to his ankle, they’d hauled him to the hospital. Kat rode alongside him in the back of the ambulance.

Sam stayed behind, insisting Vic and Tazer join Paul at the hospital. He’d taken the snowmobile and gone back out on the trail to retrieve his sled.

When he brought it back to the barn and gotten a good look at it, his heart ran as cold as the frozen river Paul had fallen on.

“What’s wrong?” Paul asked, breaking into Sam’s reverie. “Look, I must have been too close to the edge. It’s not your fault I crashed.”

“In a way it was.”

Paul shook his head, a teasing look lifting the corners of his mouth. “I insisted on taking your sled. Apparently I wasn’t ready for its superior speed and maneuverability.”

“Paul, you don’t understand.” Sam held up a hand, stopping Paul’s attempt to make him feel better about something that should never have happened. “That crash was no accident.”

“What do you mean?” Paul punched the button adjusting the head of the bed upward.

“The stanchions had been cut clean through.”

Silence followed as Paul’s forehead wrinkled into a deep frown. “You sure they didn’t break in the crash?”

“No, they were sawed at the base except a tiny piece to hold it temporarily.” Sam’s mouth tightened. “Someone did it deliberately. Someone who knew what to cut that wouldn’t be obvious.”

“Why?” Paul pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose.

“I don’t know, but that crash was intended for me, not you.” Sam jammed his hands into his pockets and paced across the room and back.

“Assuming you’re right and someone actually sabotaged your sled, it could just as easily have been mine. Yours sits next to mine in the barn.”

“Correct, but everyone in Anchorage likes you.” It was true. Sam hadn’t met a soul in the city who had a bad word to say about Paul. “I’m the outsider stirring up trouble for the state.”

“I bust people all the time. It could have been someone I put in jail,” Paul argued.

“Yeah, but you don’t have an entire political venue riding on your work.” Or a past that might have caught up to him. Sam shrugged the thought away. No. He’d assumed a different identity when he’d left the agency. No one knew him by his new name or where he was except his old boss, Royce. As far as Sam was concerned, Russell Samson no longer existed. His old employer had helped him change all his records, even arranging for his name to be altered on his social-security card and Stanford University diploma to reflect his new identity.

“You’re a geologist, not a politician, for Pete’s sake.” Paul scooted into an upright sitting position, wincing as he moved.

“That ankle still hurt?” Sam asked.

“Yeah.” The dark-haired man’s lips twisted. “I’m waiting for the doctor to come back with the results of the X-rays.”

“Think he’ll bar you from the race?” Sam wished he hadn’t let Paul borrow his sled. None of this would have happened—at least not to Paul.

Paul’s forehead creased in a frown. “He’d better not. I’ve invested too much time and money to be excluded.” Paul glanced up. “Any of your dogs injured?”

It was just like Paul to worry about the dogs more than himself. “No. They were fine. A little spooked, but once I untangled their necklines, they were raring to climb back up on the trail and run.”

“Who would tamper with your sled?” Paul’s brows furrowed. “Do you think it was another race contestant?”

“I can’t imagine another musher considering me any kind of threat. I’m a complete rookie at mushing.” Sam shook his head, the scent of alcohol and disinfectant starting to make his stomach churn. “However, I have so many people mad at me about the study, it could be anyone.” His work in the interior had people up in arms on both sides of the political fence. On one side were those who wanted to open up more of the Alaskan interior to roads and progress. On the other side, the environmentalists were fighting tooth and nail to leave it relatively untouched.

“When do you head back to Washington?” Paul asked.

“After the race.” A smile lifted his lips. “Senator Blalock is chomping at the bit to complete the study and get on with making a decision about oil production in the interior.”

“Have you let on to anyone about the results?” Paul leaned forward. “You think the word leaked out?”

“I kept a pretty tight rein on the information. Blalock got a heads-up that the samples weren’t good. Unless he let it slip to some bonehead in Washington, I don’t know who else would know.”

“It’s too bad you can’t let it out. At least the tree huggers would be off your back.”

“Yeah, but Blalock is pretty rabid about finding oil out there. He was the one who got me hired on in the first place.”

“It would be a big coup to bring in more oil to the country. I wouldn’t think he’d be behind the sabotage, would he? Seems he’d be your best friend.”

“Only if the results are what he wants to see.” Sam pushed a hand through his hair. “Maybe I should pull out of the race altogether. The officials don’t need more of a liability than they already have.” And he didn’t like not knowing who was after him.

“Are you kidding?” Paul’s eyes widened. “You’ve worked as hard as anyone to prepare. No way. You’re going.”

“But if someone is after me, I’ll only bring more trouble to everyone else in the race.”

“Assuming someone is after you. Remember, my sled was next to yours. It could have been mine they meant to get. Especially since I plan to win the race this year.” Paul leaned back and stared at the ceiling. “I wonder who would think they could only beat me by sabotaging my sled. We need to tell Kat. This is just the kind of puzzle she’d like.”

“I’d rather not.” Over the past two years, Sam had studied the pictures scattered around Paul’s log cabin, pictures of Kat fishing, pictures of her with the dogs or behind a sled. Sam felt he knew more about her just from pictures than actually in person. She looked small but tough, feminine yet strong. A product of her upbringing.

Sam couldn’t admit to Paul he’d harbored a secret attraction to Kat after hearing all the stories of their childhood in Alaska. Meeting her hadn’t changed a thing. In fact, his respect grew even more because she didn’t fall apart when Paul came in unconscious. Leanne would have called the ambulance and wrung her hands, carefully so as not to damage the expensive manicure.

No, Kat was down-to-earth and tough. From what Paul had told him, she had to be. She was in a dangerous business in some secret government organization. Paul had compared it to the CIA.

Sam suspected her job might be with the Stealth Operations Specialists, the business he’d been in while working in D.C. He could find out with a single phone call to Royce, but he refused to make contact with his old life.

Getting on with the S.O.S. wasn’t easy. Kat had to have earned her position there for a reason and it wasn’t based on her appearance. Although she’d left the room, Sam could still picture her jet-black hair as full and rich as Paul’s and eyes as blue as glacier ice in the sunlight. If looks were all it took to get the job, she’d have gotten it hands down.

The woman foremost in his thoughts stepped through the door carrying two cups of coffee. She handed one to Sam and smiled. “Thought you could use a jolt.” The smile transformed her otherwise serious face into a softer, more feminine version of her brother.

Sam got the feeling she hadn’t smiled much over the past year. He remembered when Paul had flown out to D.C. to be with Kat at her husband’s funeral a year ago. Had Marty been an agent, as well? Paul had come back saying Kat was okay, but Sam could tell Paul worried about his only sibling. And rightly so, judging by the dark circles beneath her eyes.

“Thanks.” When he took the cup from her, their hands collided and an electric jolt speared through his system.

Kat’s gaze shot up to his and just as quickly turned away. “Mind if I turn the television on?”

“Go ahead.” Paul adjusted his pillow behind his head. “The local station is airing stories on each of the race contestants. Maybe we can size up the competition.”

“You don’t think you’re racing still, do you?” Kat’s brows rose and a hand fisted on her hip.

Paul’s smile faded. He looked like a boy being told he can’t go out to play. “My dogs are ready for this race. They deserve to participate.”

“Maybe so, but we haven’t even heard from the doctor. I don’t think you can stand for twelve to fifteen days on that ankle.”

Paul crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m not ruling it out until the doctor tells me different.”

Sam would have smiled at the argument if he hadn’t been so disturbed by his reaction to Kat’s simple touch. He’d only just met the woman.

“They’re kinda cute, aren’t they?” Tazer leaned close to Sam, a grin playing across her model-perfect face.

She was gorgeous, but she reminded Sam too much of Leanne. He was immune to her kind of beauty. “Yes, she is,” Sam responded. As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he realized his mistake.

Tazer’s lips twitched, but that was the only acknowledgment of Sam’s slip. “Kat’s had a rough time of things.” Her gaze swept to the woman arguing with her brother.

Sam took the opportunity to study Tazer while she wasn’t looking in his direction. Did she work with Kat? Was she also an agent with the S.O.S.—assuming that was where Kat worked?

Though Sam wanted to ask all the questions spinning around in his mind, guilt nudged at his conscience. He didn’t feel right talking about Kat with her standing only a few short steps away, but he couldn’t help asking, “Is she still grieving for her husband?” He tried to tell himself he only cared out of mild curiosity.

“A little. I think his death shook her more than even she’ll admit. Since then, she’s been in a fog, like she doesn’t know what she wants out of life. I’m glad she decided to come home.” Tazer nodded toward Paul. “She needed her family.”

Her family was still arguing with her. “My dogs will be in that race if I have to strap myself to the sled. I’m going.”

Kat planted both fists on her hips, twin flags of red rising in her cheeks. “You couldn’t drive the sled with a good foot, much less a broken one, otherwise you wouldn’t be in the hospital now.”

Sam’s pulse quickened. This Kat was like a mama bear ready to take on the world to protect her cub. The determined stance and the heightened color made her even more beautiful than the pictures he’d stared at on the wall of her home.

“Tell her, Sam,” Paul demanded.

He didn’t want to be dragged into their domestic dispute. “Tell her what?”

“Tell her it wasn’t my fault.” Paul waved him forward. “Tell her why I crashed.”

For some reason he couldn’t fathom, he didn’t want to get into the details of the accident. He resisted becoming another case to Kat. She was here on vacation, not to play investigative agent for a little prerace sabotage. Besides, Sam was fully qualified and capable of conducting his own investigation.

Kat’s gaze pinned him, her eyes narrowing to slits. “Yes, please. Tell me why my brother crashed.”

The direct look caught him off guard and he replied without hesitation. “The stanchions had been cut.”

Her surprised gasp turned into an angry frown. “What did you say?”

In a flat tone, devoid of emotion, he explained, “The struts holding the runners to the brushbow were cut at the base. It took a couple jolts and a sharp curve before they broke completely.”

Paul crossed his arms over his chest and smiled. “I just happened to be on it at the time. So you see, it wasn’t my fault.”

Kat stared from Paul to Sam. “Who would do such a thing?”

Sam raised his hands. “I didn’t. It was actually my sled that was cut. Paul was trying it out at the time.”

“You’re telling me this was deliberate?” The intensity of her gaze held his steady.

Sam nodded, his gut clenching at the memory of Paul lying unconscious at the bottom of the riverbank.

“Who would do such a thing?” she repeated with more righteous indignation, her blue eyes blazing.

“Looks like we’re having a party in here,” the doctor said from the open doorway. “Mind if I speak to the patient in private?”

“No, of course not,” Kat said, yet she made no move to leave. As Sam passed her, she grabbed his arm. “We’re not through talking about this.”

That jolt struck him again. “Count on it.” Sam stepped out into the hallway, shaking his arm as if he could shake free of the feeling of Kat’s fingers touching him so easily.

“So, Sam, who’s got it in for you?” Tazer joined him in the hospital corridor, closing the door behind her.

“Any number of people. I’m a geologist working oil exploration in the interior. People will either love what I’m doing, or hate it. No one straddles the fence.”

Her eyes widened. “Oil and drilling are definitely hot topics with our current dependency on Middle Eastern sources.”

“Between the environmentalists wanting me out and an Alaskan senator demanding that I give him the answer he wants, I’m pulled in two different directions.”

“Either of which could have a motive to hurt you.”

“Not to mention, the race on Saturday.”

“Are there any competitors afraid you might win over them?” Tazer asked.

“I can’t imagine someone thinking I was any kind of competition.”

“You never know how the competitive mind works.”

“Whatever. Paul shouldn’t have been the one in the hospital. If I hadn’t loaned my sled to him, he’d be fine.”

She tapped a finger to her chin, her gaze running his length from head to toe. “And you would have been in the hospital or dead.”

Sam inhaled a deep breath and let it out. “Yeah. Which leads back to the question of who.”



“THE DOCTOR ONLY wanted to see me.” Paul glared at Kat.

“As your only family, I need to hear what he has to say.” Kat reached for his hand, refusing to take no for an answer.

The doctor’s expression was too serious to be good news. He slipped an X-ray film into the lighted board on the wall and pointed at a bone close to the ankle. “You have a fracture in the medial malleolus.” He turned to look at Paul, his face set in stern, no-nonsense lines. “You have a broken ankle.”

“So?” Paul’s face set in a stubborn frown. “Big deal. It’s just the ankle.”

“So—” the doctor glanced toward Kat briefly before leveling a hard stare at Paul “—you can’t run the Iditarod on that fracture.”

Paul’s hand squeezed Kat’s hard. “Are you sure? You’re not mistaken? Look at it again.” He pointed at the film.

“I’m certain. I recommend a cast and elevating your ankle for the next week to keep the swelling down. Six weeks in the cast ought to allow sufficient healing time.”

“Six weeks?” Paul shouted. “I don’t have two days to heal.”

Kat patted his hand. “I think you missed the part where the doctor said you’re not racing on Saturday.”

“Since there is minimal swelling, I’ll send the order up for the casting materials and have you fixed up in time to go home this afternoon.” The doctor made notes on the chart and then looked up. “I’m sorry, Paul. But you need to take care of that bone and let it heal.” On those parting words, the doctor left the room.

A long silence followed. Kat didn’t know what to say to make it better. Paul trained hard all year long just to be in the Iditarod. To be so close to the race and not go was a fate almost worse than death to her brother. Kat knew. She’d been in several of the races and gone through the rigorous training with the dogs. She could feel Paul’s disappointment like a palpable ache in her chest. “Look, Paul. There’s always next year.”

Paul’s frown was fierce. “The dogs deserve to be in the race this year.” He looked up into her face. “You know how much they love it.”

“I know, and I know how much you love it. But you can’t.”

“Damn.” For a long moment he stared at the wall. Then he grasped her hand, his face brightening. “I can’t do it, but you can.”

“No. Don’t even think about it.” She tried to pull her hand free. “What did that doctor give you for pain, anyway?”

“Only a little painkiller. I’m thinking straight, sis. You have to do it.”

“No. I’m here to rest and relax. Not to spend two weeks in the freezing cold.” Despite her protests, Kat felt a thrill of excitement flow through her veins. She hadn’t felt that kind of kick since before Marty died. And it felt good. But still…“No. I haven’t trained. The dogs won’t be used to me. It’s impossible.”

“If you don’t do it for me, do it for Sam. If someone is after him, he’ll need protection. That’s what you do, isn’t it?”

Her heart stopped when she thought of Sam, the man she’d heard so much about from her brother in every e-mail, letter and phone call. The man who’d found his way into the family while she was out gallivanting around the world playing secret agent. Still, Sam cared about Paul, and Kat couldn’t fault him for that.

But he made her nervous. With his sandy-blond hair, gray-green eyes and a voice so smooth and penetrating it affected the functionality of her kneecaps. She wasn’t sure she wanted to be anywhere near him. Marty had been dark and dangerous. Sam was everything Marty wasn’t. He looked like the boy next door on steroids. His rugged outdoor tan and muscles would be enough to make her heart leap if she weren’t still grieving for Marty. Okay, so the pain of Marty’s death had faded quite a bit, but that didn’t mean she was ready to jump back into the meat market of dating.

No. Being around Sam would not be good for her at this time. She’d been too vulnerable for too long. A place she hated being. Vulnerability wasn’t something Jenkinses did well.

“You kinda like him, don’t you?” Paul asked softly, grinning.

“No.” But her no wasn’t quite as definitive as before. She jerked her hand free of her brother’s. “I have to get back and help Vic with the dogs. Call me when they have you all patched up and ready to come home.”

“What?” He raised his hands. “You’re not going to stay and hold my hand through the trauma of getting a cast? What kind of sister are you?”

She picked the paper cup off the floor where it had landed earlier and threw it at Paul’s head. “Your worst nightmare.”

“I knew that.” His easy grin spread across his face. “But you’re going to do the race.”

The man was obviously high on some kind of painkiller to think she’d jump into a race she hadn’t trained for. She left the room in such a hurry, she bumped into Sam on his way in.

Her face flamed and she cursed herself, knowing how red she could get. She ducked her head and turned her back on Sam. “Tazer, you ready to go back to the house?”

“Whenever you are,” she said, her posture as relaxed as it was poised to handle anything.

“Oh, I’m ready, all right.” Ready to get away from her brother and the man who’d gone into the room after she left. So what if he might be in trouble and needed her kind of protection. “What part of off duty doesn’t he understand?” she muttered.

“Are you expecting an answer?” Tazer glanced down at her perfect nails. “Because if you are, the answer is an S.O.S. agent is never off duty.”

Trust Tazer to put it all in perspective. Kat rolled her eyes. “Thanks.” She layered a boatload of sarcasm into the one word.

“You’re welcome.” Tazer stared across the shiny tiled floor at Kat. “I haven’t seen you this animated in a long time.”

“Comes from being surrounded by crazy Alaskans and an insane brother.”

“He’s kinda cute, isn’t he?”

Tazer’s sly smile sent warning signals through Kat. “He’s my brother.”

“Yeah, him, too, but I was thinking more of Sam.” Her gaze pinned Kat’s.

The woman was fishing. But she wasn’t going to catch anything in this pond. “If you like the boy-next-door look. Me, I prefer a man with more mystery.”

“So, does that mean you’re finally thinking about other men?”

The spunk went out of her spine and Kat sagged against the wall. “No. I’m not thinking about dating other men.” Although Sam sprang to mind, uninvited.

“I didn’t say date. I said ‘thinking about.’” Tazer’s lips twitched.

Kat sighed. “Think…date…whatever.”

“Look, Kat, you’re intelligent, pretty and too young to give up on love. Don’t let Marty’s death take you out of the running completely.”

“Says the woman who swore off men even before she graduated high school.” As soon as the words left her lips, Kat regretted them.

Tazer straightened, her lips firming into a tight line. “I have good reasons.”

“I know.” Kat pushed off the wall and laid a hand on Tazer’s arm. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

Tazer had been raped when she was only sixteen years old. Not many people knew that. Tazer had sworn from that point on, she’d never be in a position where a man overpowered her again, and she’d lived up to her own promise.

Kat squeezed her arm. “You deserve to find love more than I do. I had it once.”

“This isn’t about me.” Tazer shrugged off Kat’s hand. “It’s about you. Don’t think you can sidetrack me into discussing my love life.”

Kat snorted. “Or lack thereof.”

“You took the plunge once. It was good, but he died.”

Kat winced. “Could you soften it up just a little?”

“No. You need the cold hard truth. Just because Marty died doesn’t mean you have to die with him. He was full of life and excitement. He’d want you to go on.”

The back of Kat’s throat closed and she fought for control. “I know. Just don’t push me. I’m not ready.”

Tazer’s gaze softened. “Fair enough. I’ve been known to be pushy on occasion.”

Kat barked a shaky laugh. “Try all the time.”

“I wouldn’t be such a pushy bitch if I didn’t care.”

“I know.” Kat smiled. She couldn’t ask for a truer friend.

Tazer was known for her straightforward, call-it-like-it-is lack of sugarcoating. But she was there when Kat needed her. “What’s the doctor’s verdict on your brother?”

“He’ll live, but he can’t race on Saturday or anytime in the next six weeks.”

Tazer frowned. “I guess that means you’ll be taking up the reins or whatever it is you call the steering wheel on a dogsled, huh?”

“Handlebar,” Kat answered automatically before she thought through what Tazer said. She threw her hands in the air. “What’s with you and Paul thinking I’m ready to jump into the race from hell after barely arriving in the state?”

“Look, sweetie, you can deny it all you want, but you know you love it. That’s all you used to talk about when you first came to the agency.”

“Was I that bad?”

“Worse.” Her smile softened her words. “I learned more than I ever wanted to know about dogs, sleds and mushing. If you don’t do this race, I’ll kick your butt from here all the way back to D.C. Besides, it’s your duty to be there in case tall, blond and gorgeous gets into trouble.”

“If I do this race—and I’m not saying I will—it’ll be because of the sabotage, not because I want to race.”

“You say potato, I say potahto. As long as you get the job done. I’ll let the boss know you’re on the clock.”

“Great, one more person to twist my arm on this.”

“You don’t need to race.” That deep voice that made her knees act funny spoke from the doorway behind her. “You haven’t been training. It wouldn’t be advisable.”

Kat spun to face Sam, her heart hammering faster than was warranted. “You don’t think I can make it?” Wobbly knees stiffened and her jaw firmed.

“Paul should know better than to throw you into a race you’re not ready for.”

Her hackles rose but she kept her face pokerstraight. “Don’t you think I’m capable of making my own decisions?” She planted a sweet smile on her face, ignoring the scent of his aftershave, a tantalizing aroma she tried to tell herself she didn’t even like. But she’d be lying.

He stood with his feet slightly spread and his arms crossed over his chest. “It’s your funeral.”

Who did this Norse god think he was, telling her she couldn’t hack a little eleven-hundred-mile race? Forcing confidence she really didn’t feel, she smiled up at him. “Thanks.” Then she turned to her brother, her blood slamming through her veins. “If it’s all the same to you, bro, I’ll be taking your dogs on the Iditarod.”




Chapter Three


If Sam thought it would have done any good, he’d have argued until he was blue. But from what he’d learned from Paul, Kat was a stubborn woman. When she settled on an idea, she held on to it like a pit bull in a dogfight. If he hadn’t been worried about her, he might have appreciated her confidence and strong will.

Luck of the draw had Sam leaving as number twenty-seven at the Wasilla start point behind Paul’s twenty-three. Or should he say Kat’s twenty-three? The officials had approved the replacement at the last minute, knowing her past racing history.

Sam had barely spoken to Paul and Kat the past two days. He felt as if Paul had coerced her into following Sam to keep him safe. He didn’t like the idea of being assigned a babysitter to dog his every step on the trail. He didn’t need anybody to watch his back.

He packed his rifle and handgun in the three hundred pounds of gear and equipment on the sled. Many mushers brought weapons in the event a cranky moose decided to attack. If animal or human tried something funny during the race, Sam was prepared.

Paul insisted Kat was only taking over his position in the competition because his dogs deserved a chance to win. Sam knew better. Paul was more worried about the sabotage than his dogs making a good show.

As the dogs dipped down into a ravine and back up to climb the slight rise before Knik, Sam braced himself for the onslaught. Well-wishers lined the path to see family and friends off at the last stop before they headed into the wilderness.

A slew of people milled about at the checkpoint with a collection of trucks scattered across the snow.

“Whoa!” Sam called out to his team. He eased down on the brake, digging the snow hook into the hard-packed snow as he pulled to a stop next to Vic’s old pickup.

Paul sat inside, with the door open, his injured foot wrapped in a blanket and secured with duct tape.

With her coat collar pulled up around her cheeks, Tazer stood beside the truck, a soft gray headband protecting her ears from the bitter wind, her nose bright pink.

Working with the veterinarian, Vic walked the line of dogs, scanning microchips, checking paws, booties and necklines until they reached the sled.

“You’re good to go.” The vet checked off the paperwork and nodded before heading off to the next arrival.

Sam flexed his gloved hands, tugged his wool scarf down below his chin and strode over to the truck.

“Kat pulled through ten minutes ago.” Paul reached out a hand and shook Sam’s. “She said she’d meet you at Yentna, if you can catch her. All I can say is good luck, buddy. She’s a tough competitor. And my team knows her and vice versa.”

Sam nodded, relieved Kat planned to compete rather than play nursemaid to him. Although he’d kept his eyes open for signs of her powder-blue jacket and pants.

A large white van armed with satellite dishes, antennas and the bright red logo of the local Anchorage television station stood to one side. A cameraman and female reporter watched for the next contestant.

A sled pulled in behind Sam and, as if on cue, the reporter pushed the hair out of her face and the scarf away from her mouth before turning to the cameraman.

“What’s all that about?” Sam asked.

“Looks like Al Fendley’s team.” Vic shook his head. “Never fails, he manages to get the best press for the race.”

Paul studied the man in the showy yellow parka, smiling broadly and stepping from the runners of his sled like a movie actor on set. “’Course, it doesn’t hurt to get free publicity for your business.”

The name sounded familiar, but Sam couldn’t place it. “What does he do?”

“He and his brother, Warren, run a summer lodge and dogsled training camp outside of Denali Park. They also have a hunting-outfitter business in the interior.” Vic brushed the snow off his gloves. “Al got a name for himself when he won the race two years ago.”

Paul glanced across at Al. “I hear one of the other mushers fell out of the race when his dogs got sick that year.”

“Tough break,” Sam said. “It’s a long race. I can imagine the dogs take a beating over the eleven hundred miles.”

“Not when you’re neck in neck, only a day out from the finish line and your brother is one of the folks helping with the food drops.” Vic’s gaze collided with Paul’s. “Rumor had it the dogs were slipped a mild poison at one of the checkpoints. The Fendley boys take winning seriously.”

After a narrow-eyed glance at Al, Paul turned his attention to Sam. “Take care out there. You’re a long way from civilization if anything happens.”

Sam knew the dangers of the Iditarod. “I’d better get going.”

“Oh, before you go.” Tazer stepped up to Sam. “Kat wanted me to give you something.”

His hand went out automatically and jerked back when she tried to place a radio and headset into his gloved palm. “What the hell is it?”

“A two-way radio and voice-activated mic. You two can keep in touch in case you have trouble on the trail.”

“No way.” He recognized the standard-issue radio from his days working for the S.O.S. He’d given up that life long ago and he didn’t intend to go back. Still, he shouldn’t have reacted so strongly. Sam’s lips pressed into a tight line. “I’m not interested.”

“In the radio or Kat?”

He glared at the woman. “Either.”

“Please, Sam,” Paul said from his position on the seat of the truck. “I usually go along on the race when Kat’s out there. I’d feel better knowing she had you looking out for her.”

“If this is your way of putting Kat on me for protection, no deal.” Sam shook his head. “I can take care of myself.”

“I know you can take care of yourself,” Paul said. “What I’m worried about is that it could have been either me or you they were after. If it’s someone wanting to win the race at all costs, any one of the teams and mushers could be in trouble. I’d feel better knowing you were looking after my little sister.”

The little-sister part hit Sam square in the gut. If he’d said Kat, the government agent, Sam might have told him which cliff to jump off. But Kat, the little sister, was another story altogether. Sam had a little sister back in Virginia. A grown-up little sister with a life of her own working as a legislative assistant to a congressman. If someone posed a threat to his only family left, he’d be equally concerned. “You play dirty, Jenkins.”

Without batting an eyelash, Paul grinned. “Damn right I do. Got to take care of my two favorite mushers.”

“Kat can take care of herself,” Sam noted. “Or so she says.”

“Oh, she can,” Paul agreed. “But it never hurts to have backup.”

Tazer held the radio out. “Does that mean you’ll wear it?”

With a sigh, Sam took the equipment and adjusted the headset to fit in his ear, tucking the radio into his pocket.

Tazer reached out and flipped the On switch. “Say something.”

“I don’t have time to talk. I have to get back in the race,” Sam grumbled.

“That you, Sam?” Kat’s voice sounded soft and smooth.

Blood flowed through his system like warm molasses and he fought the spreading heat. “Why didn’t you pin this thing on me yourself?” Then again, that might not have been a good idea. For the past few days, they’d worked side by side to complete preparations for the race, bagging feed for the drops, packing and repacking their sleds and tending to the dogs. He’d bumped into her more than he cared for.

Kat chuckled. “Tazer has a way with pinning unlike any other.”

Tazer’s brows rose. “Tell Kat to keep her eye on the trail and a hand on her gun, just to be safe.” Then she turned toward Paul. “Got room for me up there? It’s getting damn cold out here.”

Paul scooted over, easing his ankle out of the door frame.

Tazer climbed into the truck next to Paul and smiled. “Don’t break her heart, will ya?”

Sam frowned. “Who?”

Paul chuckled from the interior of the truck. “Buddy, you’ve been out in the woods too long.” His smile faded. “Take care out there.”

Other teams were arriving, heralded by the barking of sixty dogs.

“The team’s all set.” Vic clapped a hand to Sam’s back. “Better get going if you want to make use of the remaining daylight.”

Sam pulled the scarf up over his mouth and nodded to Paul, Vic and Tazer before he stepped on the sled, pulled up the snow hook and yelled, “Let’s go!”



KAT HAD A HARD TIME slowing the team. They were trained to race, to go for as long and as hard as they could before they needed rest. Stopping every hour to waste fifteen minutes made the lead dogs nervous and the rest of the team impatient. Already, several teams passed her. Her team howled in protest when she applied the brake and snow hook.

As much as Paul wanted her to win this race, she couldn’t go off without Sam. He was the only reason she’d agreed to the race in the first place.

Now that she was out on the snow, a world away from the hustle and crowds of D.C., she was glad she’d agreed. She couldn’t ask for a better place to think, unimpeded by the well-meaning S.O.S. team or her family back at the house. Royce had told her to get away from it all. Hell, he’d practically kicked her out of the office, insisting she needed the downtime. Nothing like being on the last frontier to get away from it all.

With the cold wind in her face, making ice crystals form in her eyelashes, and the soft sound of the runners skimming across the crusty snow, she relaxed.

“Is this thing still working?”

Sam’s clear crisp voice in Kat’s ear jolted her back to reality. A muffled tapping sound beat against her eardrum.

Kat winced. “I can hear you. Can you hear me?”

“Yes.”

“Then it works.” She could picture him frowning, and fiddling with the equipment, his gloved hands too bulky to be of much use with the small radio-transmitting device.

“Where’d they put the damn Off switch?” he asked.

“There’s a tiny switch on the piece that fits in the ear, but since we’ve got these things, we might as well use them.”

“Feels funny having a woman in my head.”

Kat chuckled. “No funnier than having a man in mine.”

“Just to set the record straight, I don’t need your protection for this race. If anything, I’m out here as your protection.”

“Sure, whatever you say.” Most men resisted having a woman provide protection of any kind—as if they conceded to being less of a man if they had a woman running interference.

“We don’t know that the accident was anything more than a onetime deal,” Sam continued.

“No, we don’t,” she answered smoothly, but Kat knew better. After inspecting the sled herself, she knew the damage had been deliberate. Question was, whose sled had the saboteur intended?

Sam sighed softly in her ear. “I don’t know about you, but I’m out here to win this race.”

Kat smiled behind the heavy wool neck scarf. “Sure you are. Like all the other sixty-six entrants and me.”

“That’s right.” He paused. “So look out, it won’t be long before you’re eating my dust.”

“Snow.” Kat couldn’t help correcting him. He needed it. The man was too independent. A lot like Marty. Determined to make it on his own and damn anyone who got in the way. That was one of the characteristics Kat had loved about Marty.

“Snow?”

“Eating my snow. We hope there’s not much dust at this time of year.”

Sam laughed in her ear, the sound warming Kat from the inside out. “Are you always this disagreeable?”

“Only when I’m confronted by a disagreeable man.”

“Point taken,” he conceded.

“I thought you didn’t like talking into these things.”

“I don’t.”

“Then shut up and get moving.”

His gentle snort was the last sound he made for a while.

When Kat realized she was still grinning, her lips turned downward. Where had that lighthearted feeling come from? And had she just been flirting with the man?

Sam was all right. For a transplant from Virginia, he seemed to understand the nature, care and feeding of the animals. And the dogs liked him.

Even Loki treated him like a member of the pack and Loki was a better judge of human character than most people. If Loki liked you, most likely, you were a good person. Not that Kat formed her impressions of strangers on the recommendation of a dog. Sam might have proven himself in the kennels, but would he have the stamina and drive to complete the eleven-hundred-mile race?

No matter whether he did or not, Kat planned to. Not so much to win as to prove to herself she still had it in her. She might have left Alaska for a few years, but the blood running through her veins was still ninety percent melted tundra snow.

Over the next hour of silence, the only sounds coming over the radio were the occasional commands Sam gave his team.

As she neared a good resting point, Kat asked, “Where are you?”

“Passed the Nome sign a few miles back.”

The famous Nome sign indicated only another one thousand forty-nine miles to go to the finish line. Kat’s breath always caught in her throat when her sled moved past the sign. Knowing she had so many more miles to go could be overwhelming, but not insurmountable. “You should be nearing Fish Creek. Watch out for the fifty-foot drop into the ravine. I almost spilled there. How are you holding up?” She didn’t know Sam or his abilities as a musher. He appeared to be in good condition and probably was from all the tromping around retrieving soil and mineral samples or whatever he did as a geologist.

“Don’t worry about me. I’m the one who’s been training for this event.”

She chuckled. “Think I’m not up to it?”

He paused before answering. “If the snowshoe fits…”

“I have to admit, the cold is a little more than I’m used to, but I’ll be fine after a couple days.” Physically, she’d never been in better shape. After Marty’s death, she’d poured herself into exercise and fitness. If not for any other reason than to eat up time between missions.

Lonely, empty time.

When friends, like Tazer, tried to include her in outings, trips or movies, she’d declined, retreating into her own world, preferring to handle her loss alone.

Kat removed one gloved hand from the handlebar and flexed her fingers. She’d been on the trail for four hours, the dogs were still full of energy and running, but they needed regular rest stops and snacks to keep up the pace.

Crisscrossed by snowmobile tracks, the trail opened onto a wide frozen swamp packed down by hundreds more snowmobile tracks. With trees bordering the swamp, this was where she usually made her first stop to rest the dogs. The copse of trees ahead and to the right would provide a good windbreak for her and the huskies. If Sam was making good time, he should catch up soon. She could get her cooker going and snack the dogs in that time.

“Gee!” Kat shouted the command, her voice carrying easily through the silence to her lead dogs.

Loki and Eli pulled to the right, the rest of the team falling in line.

As the dogs entered the stand of trees, Kat eased onto the foot brake and set out the snow hook, slowing the animals to a stop. Loki and Eli flopped to the ground, alert but relaxed with their heads on their paws. Some of the younger dogs danced around on their necklines before settling in for a rest.

After checking the feet, booties and general condition of the line of dogs, Kat fired up the portable cooker. Before long she had snow melting for the dog food and water boiling for coffee.

The dogs heard the arrival of another team before Kat could see them. They appeared from around a curve in the trail, tiny, dark dots in the white of the snow, growing larger as they neared.

The dogs slid in beside hers and stopped with a lot of tail wagging, happy yips of greeting and sniffing.

Kat handed Sam a canteen cup of coffee and turned to his sled and dogs. “Any problems?”

With Sam on one side and Kat on the other side of the team, they walked the line of dogs, checking feet, wrists and shoulders. All appeared in good shape.

After the dogs were fed and taken care of, Sam gave Kat a narrow-eyed look. “Look, if you’re slowing up for me, forget it. I’m here to race. I’ll leave you so far behind you won’t catch up.” His gray-green eyes flashed in the late-afternoon sun.

She tipped her head to the side. “Is that a challenge?”

“You bet.”

“You’re on.” She tossed the remains of her canteen cup into the snow, and stowed the metal cooker and feeding dishes before climbing on the back of her sled.

The sound of a snowmobile alerted her that they were no longer alone. The trail was not exclusive to the sled teams. Occasional snowmobiles were encountered, especially early on in the race when they hadn’t completely left civilization behind. Kat only gave it minor consideration. She pulled up the snow hook and had sucked in a lungful of air to shout to her team, when a shot rang out.

Sam’s cap flew from his head. “What the hell?”

Kat’s team yelped and lunged forward. She barely caught the handlebar with her gloved fingertips, struggling for a few seconds to hang on. She stepped on the foot brake to slow the dogs. When she turned back toward Sam, he lay on the ground.

“Get down!” he yelled. “Someone just shot at me.”

“Whoa!” Kat dropped to a crouch, anchoring her snow hook to keep the dogs from leaving with the sled. “Are you okay?” She scanned the tree line across the swamp.

“I’m fine.” As he reached out to grab his hat, another shot echoed through the stillness and his hat leaped into the air. “What the h—”

“Stay down.” Kat dropped to her stomach. “I’ll move around the clearing to see if I can find out who’s shooting.”

“You’ll stay exactly where you are,” Sam hissed into the mic. “I’ll go check.”

“Look, I’m trained in this kind of maneuver.”

“So am I,” he gritted out. “Stay down.”

“If I were a man, would you be so concerned?”

“Now is not the time to go all equal opportunity on me.”

Kat scooted behind the bulk of her fully laden sled. “Chauvinist.” Although frustrated by his demand for her to stay, she didn’t say the word in anger. With a man shooting at him, she didn’t wish additional bad karma on Sam.

“I won’t have another man, woman…or child…die on my account,” Sam muttered, working his way around to the opposite side of his sled. He dug into the pouch containing his rifle. With the weapon in front of him, he ran in a zigzag pattern toward the trees.

Shots rang out, hitting the snow just in front of or behind his boots.

Kat’s breath caught in her throat. Sam certainly looked as if he knew what he was doing. She hoped like hell he did.




Chapter Four


With bullets hitting too damn close for comfort, Sam dropped behind a fallen log, easing around the side to scan the area. Another shot echoed across the clearing. Dirt and splinters from the log sprayed his cheek. In a low crawl, he scrambled the length of the fallen trunk until he reached a stand of trees with a clump of bushes at its foot. Based on the direction his hat flew off, the bullets came out of the north. Besides his own breathing and that of Kat’s stirring against her microphone, Sam didn’t hear anything. All thirty-two dogs sensed the danger and waited, ears perked, alert and silently awaiting orders.

Sam straightened and stood behind the relative safety of a tree. “Let’s see how good a shot he is,” he muttered.

“Oh, please tell me you’re not going to give him a target,” Kat growled into the mic. “Just what I need, a man with a death wish.”

Okay, so maybe the mic was sensitive enough to pick up muttering. “Don’t think you’re getting off so easily. I’m going to make it to the finish line.”

Was that a feminine snort? “Intact, I hope.” Kat Sikes was a livewire and not afraid to speak her mind.

Sam grinned and slid his glove halfway off his hand, then poked it around the side of the tree.

A bullet smacked into it and flung the glove five feet behind him, confirming his suspicion, but leaving one hand gloveless and cold. “This guy’s a professional sniper.”

“I feel better knowing that.” Kat’s voice dripped sarcasm.

“The good news is he’s after me.”

Kat laughed, the sound blasting into Sam’s ear. “You think that’s good news?”

“Better than him being after everyone in the race, including you. I’m going to circle the clearing.” He glanced around, spotting another fair-size tree ten yards away. “This guy can’t get away.”

“Don’t do it, Sam.”

“What would you suggest? Stand here until he decides he’s played long enough?” Although she couldn’t see him, he shook his head, the bite of cold air already numbing his exposed fingers. “You know how to use a gun?”

“Don’t make me laugh.” An audible click sounded in his ear, a clear indication she was armed and ready. “Gotcha covered.”

“Don’t shoot unless you have to. No use giving him his next target.”

“I’ll be the judge of that.” She was cocky and fearless.

The combination could be admirable or foolhardy. Sam hoped it didn’t make a lethal combination. He pushed away from the tree and ran for the next, his path erratic and as unpredictable as he could make it. Weighed down by heavy, insulated boots and snow, he moved slower than he liked. If he was lucky, the sniper wouldn’t draw a decent bead on him.

A bullet snapped a branch beside his cheek, another tore through his bulky parka, missing his arm by a hair.

“Son of a—” Kat swore. “I can’t see the bastard.” She fired a couple rounds.

“Aim for that outcropping of trees on the far side of the swamp.” Sam pushed away from the safety of the trees and ran again. At this rate, he’d be on the other guy by tomorrow. This time, he ran longer and faster through skeletal underbrush laced with snow.

The rain of bullets ceased when he’d gone only halfway, leading Sam to believe his attacker hadn’t stuck around. He continued until he’d circled the clearing.

Meanwhile, Kat had gone quiet, as well.

Sam missed the steady stream of sarcasm he’d gotten used to. “You still with me?”

“I’m with you,” she responded in a breathless voice.

Sam didn’t have time to ponder the reason she was winded all of a sudden. In the distance a small engine roared to life.

“Sounds like our friend flew the coop,” Kat commented.

“Damn.” Sam arrived at the outcropping of trees with the absolute certainty he wouldn’t find his man.

The snow was packed down and bullet casings littered the ground.

Sam lifted one spent shell from the snow and dropped it in his pocket. Then he followed the footsteps up and over a small rise. This swamp area was known for the multitude of snowmobile tracks crisscrossing through the area. Another set of snowmobile tracks wasn’t unusual. Except the driver had been shooting at Sam. He couldn’t chalk the incident up to a hunter mistaking him for a moose.

A branch snapped behind him and Sam spun.

“Whoa, tiger.” Kat held up her hands, her rifle in one of them. “I’m on your side.” She stared out at the packed snow. “You’ll never trace him. There are too many tracks around here to even try.”

“I know.” He glanced at her, a frown drawing his brows downward. “I thought I told you to stay put.”

“In case you haven’t figured it out yet, I don’t always follow orders.” She shrugged. “It’s a hard habit to break. Ask my brother.”

“The sniper could just as easily shoot you as me.”

She tipped her head to the side, her brows rising on her forehead. “But he wasn’t aiming for me, was he?”

“No, he was after me.” Sam shook his head. “I’d sure as hell like to know why.”

“We can report the incident at our next checkpoint. But if we don’t get on the trail, we won’t make it before midnight.”

“I’d rather not report the shooting. If he’s only after me, why shut down an entire race?”

“Are you nuts or do you really have a death wish?”

Sam ignored her and retraced his footsteps to retrieve his glove. Fortunately, only one finger had a hole in the tip. Nothing a little duct tape wouldn’t cure.

Kat followed, grumbling the entire way.

Her anger only managed to make Sam smile. He liked to get under her skin and make her blue eyes flash. The race was definitely going to be interesting for more than one reason.

Once they checked the dogs, they both stepped behind the runners of their sleds and raised their snow hooks.

“Let’s go!” Sam and Kat shouted simultaneously.

Anxious to leave the frozen swamp behind, both teams strained against their harnesses. Kat and Sam barely had time to grab their handlebars before the sleds jerked forward.

Despite the near miss, they still had a race to complete with approximately a thousand miles left to go.

Sam let Kat take the lead. During the next four hours, he debated turning back. A maniac wanted him dead or at least scared. No, if he’d wanted him dead, why would someone want to shoot at him and miss?



KAT LIFTED ONE HAND from the handlebar and readjusted her scarf over her face, covering the exposed skin up to the edge of her goggles. The temperature had dropped in the past four hours since the sun sank below the horizon. At the Yentna checkpoint it had been minus six. It must be nearing minus twenty now. The sky was clear, the stars shining bright on the trail and not a single fluffy cloud hovered over this lonely part of Alaska to help keep the relative heat of the day from escaping into the atmosphere.

The Alaskan huskies loved the cold; their mix of breeds, including greyhound, husky and other dogs, combined speed with strength and endurance. Their bodies were equipped to handle extreme temperatures. They ran as if they would never get tired, but Kat knew better. After she collected her food bags and straw from the Skwentna checkpoint, she planned to rest them for several hours.

Lights from a small cluster of buildings loomed ahead, as well as the lights from dozens of snowmobiles lining the trail. A cheer went up and continued, as well-wishers shouted encouragement to Kat, then Sam following half a mile behind.

Kat loved the Iditarod, the sense of everyone being in it together, the support of the locals and volunteers along the way and the beauty of Alaska. Her heart swelled with pride that she was one of them. One of the lucky people born and raised in this great state.

As she slid into the Skwentna checkpoint, she pressed her foot to the brake. “Whoa.” The dogs barked excitedly to the other twenty teams already there. The noise was unrelenting and exhilarating all at once. The team didn’t act as though they’d been on the trail for over nine hours. They were ready to visit and play with members of their own kind.

Sam joined her. “Stopping here?”

“No. Too busy around here for the dogs to get any real rest. I thought we’d stop a few miles out to get a jump on tomorrow’s time.”

“Sure you don’t want the safety of numbers?”

“Believe me, there will be numbers we can mix with in the smaller camp farther down the trail.” A racing official directed them to their feed bags. Once she’d lugged the bag to her sled and tied it down, she headed for a stack of straw and grabbed a bale.

“Need help with that?” Sam dug his hands into a bale and hefted it with little effort.

Grumpy and starting to feel the strain of stress and fatigue, Kat shot him a glare. “No, thank you. I can pull my own weight in the race.”

Sam had the nerve to chuckle. “Not as in shape as you thought?”

Her glare deepened, but she didn’t refute his words. Truth was that jogging and lifting weights was only half the effort needed to be physically prepared to lead a team on the grueling race. Her shoulders ached and her hands cramped with the effort of hanging on to the sled over the rolling terrain.

Sam tossed his bale on top of his sled and tied it down.

Kat admired how easily he accomplished the task, gloved hands and all.

Meanwhile, she struggled to lift hers to the top of the loaded sled. Once she had her bale in place, she walked the line of dogs, snacking them once more.

Back at the sled, she stripped off a glove and dug in one of her pockets, retrieving her satellite phone, an illegal addition to her equipment by Iditarod standards. Given the circumstances, Kat deemed it necessary. She walked around to the back of a building out of sight and sound of the other contestants. After the shooting in the swamp, she’d called Tazer to fill her in. Now she was anxious for a status update.

From where she stood, she could just see Sam bent over his lead dogs’ feet.

Tazer answered on the first ring. “Hey, Kat. How’s everything going? You make the checkpoint at Skwentna yet?”

“We’re there now.” She glanced at Sam, putting fresh booties on Striker’s and Hammer’s feet. Even covered from head to foot in thick layers of clothing, he exuded strength and a sincere concern for his team.

“Anything on who might have been shooting at us? Anything on Sam’s work that could make someone angry enough to want to kill him?”

“As a matter of fact, I just got information on one of the race contestants.” Papers rustled and Tazer continued, “Al Fendley is a hunting outfitter. It’s no secret he wants Sam to find oil in the interior to open up more roads north in the area of his hunting operation.”

“Is that enough for him to want to have Sam killed?” Kat stared across at Sam.

“Apparently Al’s up to his eyeteeth in debt from expanding his outfitter business. He even flew in building supplies to have a lodge constructed in the proposed drilling area.”

“Jumped the gun, did he?”

“Yeah.” Tazer hesitated then added, “There’s something else.”

Sam straightened, scanning the crowd in front of the building. His search continued until he spotted her and he smiled.

Kat’s pulse quickened. “What else?”

“When I called Royce to discuss the situation with Sam, he only sounded mildly concerned. When I called in the update about the shooting, he sounded funny.”

“Funny? What did he say?”

“He said, ‘Sam can handle it.’”

“What?” Kat frowned, her gaze on Sam.

His eyes narrowed and he headed across the snow toward her.

Not wanting Sam to overhear her conversation or read her lips, Kat turned her back to him. “Why would he say that? Does he know Sam?”

“I didn’t think so, but now I’m not so sure.” Tazer’s voice lowered. “When I asked if you two should drop out of the race, Royce was adamant you stay in. He said, and I repeat verbatim, ‘Kat and Sam are good. If the shooter isn’t just after Sam, they need to be there for the rest of the participants.’”

An image of Sam moving through the trees around the swamp came to Kat’s mind. He’d used all the cover, concealment and movement techniques of a combat veteran. “How would he know if Sam was good or not?”

“How would who know what about me?” Sam asked over Kat’s shoulder.

“Look, Tazer, I gotta get back on the trail. Will you follow up and let me know what you find out?”




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