Chapter Eight

Clay

Clay woke before sunrise in his own bed, with the faintest morning light seeping through the windows. He’d wanted to stay near her all night, but knew better than to tempt himself. He was in control, always, but he’d never had to battle his own desires like he did with Victoria. How tempting would it be to draw her into his arms and hold her? She lay in the other bed, her long hair cast around her head like a halo. Her chest rising and falling steadily as she slept. His cock was hard. Admiring the curve of her breasts in the morning light didn’t help.

He pulled out of bed and dressed in jeans and a sweater. While he hadn’t packed snow boots, the person who owned the cabin had a closet full of winter gear. Clay found a pair that fit well enough.

He left a note on the table, telling Victoria and the kids that he’d taken Charlie for a walk. They should remain in the cabin and they’d all have breakfast when he returned. Just before heading out the door, he loaded the rifle and looped the strap over his shoulder.

Charlie waited by the door, wagging his tail in anticipation of a morning walk. If Sydney was a nature-hater, Charlie was her opposite. He’d be happy to live in the middle of nowhere in a rustic cabin. He bounded out the door, disturbing a trio of chickadees. With a happy bark, he bolted past, spraying lumps of snow in his wake.

Clay loaded firewood into the box by the front door. There was still plenty of firewood, but if help didn’t come in a few days, he and Ross would have to split more wood. He stacked the split logs and thought about the wolves. The moment he heard them, he recalled the pilot’s body. He knew what he’d probably find in the wreckage and reproached himself for not tending to the man’s body yesterday.

He walked the two hundred yards to the plane, in no hurry to get to the crash site. Charlie ran along the bank, near the trees. Another task that he needed to do was to start a fire. A clearing along the forest would serve well enough. He’d haul timber out of the woods and set it alight. The pilot had stocked not a single flare on the plane, a fact that pissed him off. But there wasn’t a thing he could do about that now.

He’d simply have to make his own beacon.

As he approached the wreckage, he could see signs the wolves had come in the night. Massive pawprints surrounded the plane. Henry’s leg protruded from the door. The plane sat, precariously on the edge of the ice sheet, partly submerged in the seawater. Waves lapped against the fuselage.

Clay cursed when he saw the man’s remains. What the hell would he do now? When the search party arrived, they would expect to find five people, or at least the remains of five people. How could he keep the wolves from doing more damage?

Charlie came to his side. The dog didn’t like wolves and Clay knew he wouldn’t go anywhere near the plane or the pilot’s remains. Charlie whimpered.

The plane lurched and slid a little more into the water, the ice scraping the fuselage. Waves slapped the metal and rocked the wreckage from side to side. For a moment, Clay wondered if the whole plane would slip into the sea.

Charlie growled. His hackles rose along his spine. A small animal darted from the plane and raced across the snow toward the trees and Charlie took off in hot pursuit. Clay could have called him back but decided against it. Let him have his fun. The critter was probably a marten and Charlie would never catch him.

Besides, he had bigger problems. Henry lay half in the plane and half out. The part that was inside probably looked pretty bad too. He considered his options. Getting close to the plane was risky. Yesterday the ice had creaked a little under his feet. Today it seemed to complain a little more. But he didn’t care for the idea of leaving a body to the elements.

Moving slowly, he edged towards the nose of the plane. Were there more animals on the plane? He leaned over to peer inside, but saw nothing. A shout jerked his attention away.

Victoria traipsed across the snow. Dressed in one of the immense sheep-skin coats from the hall closet, she moved awkwardly. Sydney walked with her. Both of them raised their hands and waved. “Good morning!”

Fury heated his gut. They’d left the cabin. He’d given them one fucking rule and they’d ignored it.

“We’re starving,” Sydney called.

He glanced down at what remained of Henry and saw the dead man through the girls’ eyes. Not something Sydney would take well, and something that would likely stick in her memory for the rest of her life. The wolves had started to pull Henry out of the plane but must have given up as the plane sunk further into the lake. Sydney had already seen a dead person. She didn’t need to see a dead person partially eaten by wolves.

“Stay back,” he yelled.

“I need my chap stick,” Sydney argued. “You’re not the boss of everything. I’ve already seen the dead guy.”

“Son of a bitch,” Clay muttered, and shoved Henry part way back into the plane. The sudden motion made the fuselage rock unsteadily. The plane’s nose lifted and reared up.

Out of reflex, Clay retreated. “Get back!”

The plane upended and slid on the edge of the ice. The ice buckled, collapsing beneath the weight of the plane. The wreckage creaked and groaned as it rolled toward the water. Clay watched as the sea swallowed the small aircraft. It sank into the depths, disappearing in seconds. The water gurgled and sloshed over the ice.

Pivoting, he moved quickly, grabbing Victoria in one arm and Sydney with the other. The rifle knocked against his back as he lifted them and strode across the snow. Both let out surprised yelps, but neither struggled, probably because he held them in a vise-like grip. Adrenalin always made his response more fierce and primitive. He wasn’t sure if they stood on ice or solid ground, but he need them away from the ice’s edge.

When he set them down, they stared at him in shock.

“I told you not to come out here,” he snarled.

Victoria shook her head. “But we’re together. What would bother the two of us?”

She looked around as if searching for any sort of threat, but the only animal around was Charlie who sniffed a snow bank near the cabin.

“How is anyone going to find us if the plane is gone?” Victoria asked.

“We’ll have to light a bonfire.”

“What did you do with the pilot’s body?” she asked.

“He went down with the plane. Which is fine. It’s better that way.”

“Why is it better that way?”

Jesus, this woman. Was she going to make him explain about wolves in front of Sydney? “We don’t want a dead body lying around. That’s why.”

Victoria’s eyes widened. “His family won’t have anything to bury.”

He bit back a sharp reply. Anger scalded his blood. She’d defied him. Questioned him. Doubted him. Civilians were always the root of fuck-ups. They weren’t trained. They didn’t work together. They couldn’t gauge risk. Worst of all, he couldn’t discipline them.

His blood heated with anger. In the midst of his fury, he stared at the way she looked at him, her eyes wide, her lips parted. He needed to protect her but wanted to fuck her too. The crash, the wilderness, being close to Victoria… all these things had cut back his priorities. They’d been reduced to primitive drives. Sex and survival.

“Back to the cabin,” he said from between gritted teeth.

“You don’t have to get so mad” Sydney grumbled.

He gestured to the cabin. “Move.”

She spun around and began walking back. Victoria studied him for a moment longer. He wondered if she might argue, but she said nothing. She turned and trailed Sydney. When they arrived at the cabin, they stomped the snow from their boots and went inside, followed by Charlie.

Ross stood by the fire and looked at him in alarm. “I told them not to go.”

“Good job, Ross,” Clay said.

Ross smiled at the praise, but Victoria and Sydney both shot him heated glares as they shed their coats.

“Nobody,” Clay said quietly, “will leave the cabin area without me.”

“We were coming to you.” Sydney hung her coat on the rack by the door.

“You should know better.” He directed his anger at the girl. “You live in Alaska.”

“We live in a neighborhood,” Ross said. “She doesn’t know better.”

“Now you do. We have wolves and if we’re here much longer we’ll have bears.”

“Much longer?” Victoria asked.

“Who knows how long we’ll be here.”

Ross lifted his brows. “Wow. Really?”

“Have you heard any search planes over head?” Clay asked.

Sydney drew a sharp breath and Victoria gave him a chastising look.

“I have school on Monday,” Sydney said in a small voice.

“Yeah.” Ross’s smile widened. “We’re going to be missing school.”

“Remind me to write you a damn note,” Clay muttered.

Victoria shook her head and turned to the kitchen. Under her breath she muttered a few words complaining about his demeanor. He eyed her as she walked away from him and moving quickly came up behind her.

“You need to follow protocol, Victoria.” He cupped her shoulders, keeping his voice low. “I’m not fucking around here. You and I are the adults here, but I’m the leader. What I say goes and you’d better follow orders or we’re going to have a lot more to worry about than the kids picking up a few swear words.”

He felt the tension radiating across her shoulders. He shouldn’t touch her. Not when he wanted her so damn badly, but this was something more. He needed her to be safe even more than he needed her by his side or in his bed. When this time at the cabin was over, when help finally came, she might walk away hating his guts, but she’d walk away unharmed. The children too.

And if it meant being a son of a bitch to make sure of that, he was just the man for the job.