CHAPTER 5
After leaving the plane and picking up the Jeep in Refuge Cove, they drove back into town for a late lunch of hamburgers, fries, and colas. They were both hungry, and the little burger place just north of the tunnel was one of John’s favorites.
From across the table, John studied the woman who’d dropped into his life out of nowhere. He’d tried hard to talk her into leaving Ketchikan. But even in the face of danger, she could be as stubborn as hard-set concrete.
How could he make her understand what she was dealing with? Boone had a crazy vindictive streak—hell, the whole family did. He would do his best to protect her, but given Emma’s independent nature, he couldn’t be there for her all the time.
The more she understood about her situation, the safer she would be. She might even decide to be sensible and leave. Either way, there was no getting around it—it was time for him to come clean about his relationship to the Swenson family.
“If I’m going to stay here, I’ll need a job and a safe place to live,” she said. “I can’t expect to be your uninvited houseguest forever. And I can’t expect you to chauffeur me into town every day.”
“You might be safer with me,” he said.
“Maybe. But I’d be putting you in danger, as well as imposing on your privacy. Lend me a pocket-sized pistol and teach me to shoot it. I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself.”
Brave talk, he thought. But she wasn’t a big girl, and her spunk, even with a gun, wouldn’t be enough to fend off a man like Boone—especially if his mother and brother were to get involved.
“Let’s take it slow for now,” he said. “Twenty-four hours ago you were still with Boone. Things have changed a lot since then. You’ll need time to settle in and learn your way around. For starters, since we’ve both finished eating, let’s go for a walk. Come on.”
Since downtown Ketchikan was small enough to explore on foot, they’d parked in the lot by the empty cruise docks on Front Street. He guided her up the slope to the Creek Street Historic District, with its colorful Gold Rush era shops, restaurants, boardwalks, and bridges that crisscrossed the rushing water. With the cruise season over, the crowds were gone, and some businesses were already closed. It was a peaceful place now, perfect for a quiet walk.
John played tour guide while he wrestled with the hard truths he needed to tell her. “This was a wild neighborhood back in the day,” he said. “Especially during Prohibition—gambling, liquor, sporting ladies, you name it. There’s a hidden path off to your left, over that bridge.” He pointed. “It’s called Married Man’s Trail. The men used it to cut through the woods from their homes so they wouldn’t be caught going back and forth.”
“For shame!” Her laugh was warm and real. John liked the sound of it. He wouldn’t have minded hearing it again. But she wouldn’t be laughing when she heard what he had to say.
They came to a sheltered spot at the back of a shop, where a bridge overlooked a tumbling waterfall. A bench stood next to the wooden railing. “Sit down,” he said. “I’ve got something to tell you. Something you need to know before you make plans to stay in Ketchikan.”
“What is it?” She lowered herself to the end of the bench, a puzzled expression on her pert face. “Is something wrong?”
“That depends on you. Just hear me out.” He sat on the other end of the bench, leaving a polite distance between them.
“Earlier, in the plane, you asked me if I’d ever been to the Swenson place. I told you I had.”
“Yes, and you were very mysterious about it.”
“What I didn’t tell you was that, at the time I was there, I was married to Boone’s sister.”
He watched the shock sink in. Her face paled. Her lips parted. Although she hadn’t moved, it was as if she’d shrunk away from him. “Tell me the rest,” she said in a small, cold voice. “All of it.”
“We were in high school. Boone and I were seniors. Marlena was a year younger, prettiest girl in the whole school. I was one of a dozen boys who had a crush on her. But I was one of the quiet kids who didn’t get noticed much. When she asked me to the Spring Social I was stupefied—didn’t even have a suit to wear. But we managed to have a good time. I had a bottle of whiskey in the car—I’d started drinking before my mother died, and was hitting it pretty heavy by then. To cut to the chase, we both got drunk, and I got her pregnant.
“Boone beat me up pretty bad when he found out. I didn’t even fight back. Figured I deserved it. After that we had a shotgun wedding and went to live with her mother and Ezra in the bush. Boone came home, too. They all hated me—not only for what I’d done to Marlena, but just because I was Tlingit. As soon as I could, I left and got a job in town, crewing on a fishing boat.
“After I found a place to live, Marlena came too, and brought our baby boy. But things were never good between us, with me drinking and her climbing the walls because we didn’t have enough money to go out and have fun. We lasted for a couple of years. Then she left me to marry the man I was working for—the man who owned the boat. She took the boy and got full custody. I went off the deep end for a few years, finally started with AA, pulled myself together, got my pilot’s license and bought the Beaver. . . .”
John’s voice trailed off. He had never told the full story to anyone. Now that he’d done it, he felt physically drained. He’d been looking out at the waterfall and the flock of small brown birds that dipped and darted in the spray. Now he forced himself to turn and look at Emma.
She sat absolutely still, her hands folded in her lap. In her calm expression, he caught glimpses of shock, sympathy, and wounded anger.
“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” she asked.
“Because I didn’t expect it to matter. I thought I could talk you into leaving. You can still leave. Let me fly you out of here. I can deal with Boone when he shows up.”
“And if I choose to stay?”
“Then you’ll need to know what you’re dealing with. I’ll do my best to keep you safe, but I can’t do that unless you trust me.”
Her tightly masked emotions flared to the surface. “Why should I trust you? For heaven’s sake, the man who hurt me is your ex-brother-in-law! He’s your son’s uncle! He’s family—and you’ve only known me for a day!”
John turned to face her directly. “Look at me while I say this, Emma. These people aren’t my friends. I know Boone and what he’s capable of. If it would keep him from hurting other women the way he hurt you, I’d turn him over to the law in a heartbeat, the consequences be damned. If you don’t believe me—and if you can’t trust me to stand up for you, then you should leave—because right now, I’m all you’ve got. And there’s one thing we both know for certain—you can’t fight Boone alone.”
Standing, she tore her gaze from his and walked away, across the bridge to the other side of the creek. John didn’t try to follow her. She had no place to go, no option except to come back to him. He kept an eye on her as she stood looking down into a quiet pool below the falls, where the bodies of salmon, their lives given up for the next generation, gleamed like tarnished silver in the depths.
After several minutes she walked back to face him. “I’ve thought about what you told me,” she said. “Your story has raised some doubts about my staying. But I’ll sleep on it and give you my decision tomorrow, after I’ve seen the judge.”
“That sounds reasonable enough.” They walked back along the boardwalk toward Dolly’s House, a former brothel, now a museum and tourist attraction. John lapsed back into the role of guide, trying to ignore the tension that hung between them. They needed a break from each other, some time apart to breathe and think.
“You’re a teacher,” he said. “Does that mean you like to read?”
She gave him a strained smile. “Not necessarily. But yes, I love to read. I browsed through your bookshelf while you left me to go to town, but I didn’t see much to catch my interest.”
“We can fix that,” he said. “Ketchikan has a first-rate bookstore. I’ll treat you to a couple of paperbacks, your choice.”
“Thanks. I’ll take you up on that.” She seemed genuinely pleased, he thought as they walked the short distance downhill to the bookstore. He was finding that he enjoyed pleasing her. But if the woman had any common sense, she’d allow him to fly her to Sitka. She’d be out of danger and out of his life. Wasn’t that what he really wanted?
* * *
In the bookstore, Emma chose a couple of juicy-looking bestsellers by women authors. John paid for them at the checkout counter. She might not have accepted even this small gift, but she knew he was buying her books to ensure himself some peace in the cabin. She meant to give him just that. The long day had worn her out. Curling up by the fire with a good book sounded like a delicious idea.
They walked back to the Jeep and took the road out of town. The sun was already low in the sky. Boone had mentioned to her that, in Alaska, darkness moved in early. In midwinter, he’d said, the daylight was so brief and the nights so long that people tended to get blue and surly from so much darkness. But for lovers, he’d said with a smile, the nights were never too long.
Boone.
Heaven help her, she’d been so love starved that she’d clung to his every word. He’d fed her a line of pretty words. She’d swallowed it whole and nearly paid a terrible price.
She’d been a naïve, gullible fool. But she’d learned her lesson. Men lied to get what they wanted—and when they thought they had it, they could change without warning. Never again, for as long as she lived, would she put blind trust in any man, including the dark, intriguing pilot who sat beside her now.
This afternoon John Wolf had revealed a part of his past—not an easy thing for such a private man. What he’d told her, she sensed, was true. But what had he left out? How many dangerous secrets was he still hiding?
Right now, she had no choice except to trust him with her safety. But she would keep her guard up. She would never let need make her vulnerable.
They stopped for a few groceries in Ward Cove. Emma waited in the locked Jeep while John went into the store and came out with a tall paper bag. He had asked her if she wanted anything special, but she’d answered with a shake of her head. She’d had a long, emotional twenty-four hours. Thinking about groceries was more than her wearied brain could manage.
But she didn’t like the idea of being dead weight. It was time she started helping out around the cabin. She would start by offering to make supper tonight, even if it turned out to be warmed-over chili.
By the time they arrived at the cabin, it was almost dark. Emma stayed locked in the Jeep while John, with a flashlight in one hand and his pistol in the other, circled the cabin. Only after he’d checked inside and turned on the porch light, did he come back for the groceries and Emma. Given how well he knew Boone, his caution confirmed that the danger was worth taking seriously.
The cabin was cold. While John made the fire, Emma unpacked the groceries—mostly basics like coffee, bacon, eggs, milk, and bread. No fresh vegetables. Didn’t the man eat salad?
The only surprise was a half gallon of double-fudge chocolate ice cream and a plastic squeeze bottle of chocolate syrup in the bottom of the bag. She stared at it, shaking her head.
“What?” With the fire flickering to a blaze, John had wandered into the kitchen area. “Is something wrong?”
“What were you thinking?” She shook her head again. “This junk food will give you a heart attack by the time you’re fifty!”
He raised one black eyebrow. “Maybe I won’t live that long. And tonight, it isn’t junk food, it’s supper. Join me.”
“I was about to warm up the last of the chili. At least it’s nourishing.”
“Come on.” He lifted two good-sized bowls off the shelf and began scooping chocolate ice cream into them. “You haven’t lived until you’ve spent an evening in a forest cabin, eating chocolate ice cream and reading a good book in front of a crackling fire. Live a little, Emma Hunter.”
“Oh, all right.” She watched as he stowed the carton in the freezer, drenched the mounds of ice cream in chocolate syrup, added spoons, and handed her one bowl to carry.
She followed him toward the overstuffed love seat that faced the fire. John was right, she told herself. An evening of relaxing self-indulgence might be just what she needed. But something, she sensed, was off. He was too artificially cheerful, too set on getting her to do what he wanted.
Should she confront him and demand to know what was going on? But no, that would only raise the tension between them. They both needed a break tonight.
The paperbacks she’d chosen were stacked on the side table. Emma settled on the love seat where she’d slept last night, kicked off her new sneakers, and rested her stocking-clad feet on the hearth. The fire was deliciously warm, the chocolate ice cream a decadent treat. She spooned it slowly into her mouth, savoring the cold, creamy sweetness.
She could tell that John didn’t want to talk. Resolving to leave him in peace, she finished the ice cream, set the bowl and spoon on the side table, and opened one of the books. The story was well-written, but Emma was worn-out. She’d barely made it through fifty pages before she began to nod off.
“Hey, sleepyhead.” John’s touch on her shoulder startled her awake. “You’re not spending another night out here,” he said. “I’d say it’s about your bedtime.”
Emma yawned, put the book on the table, and staggered to her feet. “Can I wear your thermals again tonight? I didn’t buy pajamas.”
“They’re all yours. I may be up for a while. Don’t worry if you hear me go out. I’ll just be checking the place.”
“Are you concerned?” She remembered how he’d checked the perimeter of the house before letting her out of the Jeep.
“I’m just being careful—making sure that bear doesn’t pay us another visit.”
“Then I’ll try not to worry.” She yawned again. “I don’t know if I’ve thanked you for all you’ve done. Please know that I’m grateful.”
He raised a mocking eyebrow. “You know I’d do the same for a lost puppy, don’t you? Now get some rest.”
Emma tottered down the hall, brushed her teeth, and got undressed. The bedroom was cold, the bed even colder. But little by little the sheets and blankets warmed to her body. Lulled by the wind in the trees outside her high window, she sank into sleep.
* * *
The moon had risen above the mountaintops, its cold gleam casting a moiré of light and shadow over the forest. The sky was clear, but the breeze off the narrows carried the sound of distant thunder and the scent of rain.
Armed with his pistol, John waited in the darkness next to the Jeep. He hadn’t wanted to alarm Emma by telling her about the tire tracks he’d seen earlier. But he’d gotten their message. Boone had stopped by while they were gone. And he’d be back.
After making sure Emma was asleep, he’d turned off the cabin lights, locked the door, and settled next to the Jeep to wait. His ex-brother-in-law was bound to show up. It was just a question of when.
He’d been outside for about twenty minutes when he heard the snap of a twig. The hair rose on the back of his neck. It wasn’t a bear—that much he knew. A bear’s approach would have been absolutely silent.
He raised the .44 and pulled back the hammer as a tall, pale form stepped out of the trees at the edge of the clearing. It was Boone, all right, wearing a fringed buckskin jacket with a slouched hat, and carrying a high-powered rifle. He would’ve parked some distance away, probably driving a vehicle borrowed from his mother’s homestead.
“Put the gun on the ground, Boone. ” John stepped into the light. “Nice and easy. No court would convict me for shooting an armed man on my property.”
Boone laughed as he lowered the weapon. “Hell, John, I should’ve known I couldn’t sneak up on a goddamned Injun. But I didn’t come to pick a fight with you. I just came to fetch my wife. I know you’ve got her. Hand her over and we won’t have any problem.”
“Slide that gun in my direction, and we’ll talk.”
Boone gave the rifle a shove with the toe of his boot. Keeping a careful eye on the man, John picked it up, removed the shells, and tossed the empty gun behind him on the ground.
“In the first place, she’s not your wife,” he said. “We found out about the fake wedding.”
Boone grinned. “Reckon she was pissed about that. Most women would give their teeth to be Mrs. Boone Swenson.”
“She’s pissed about more than that, like the money you stole from her.”
“Stole? Hell, she gave me that cash with her own sweet little hand. It was a gift. It’s mine. Now hand her over before things get ugly.”
John took a moment to weigh his options. True, he had the drop on Boone. If he thought he could do it, it would make sense to restrain him and turn him over to the police. But with no outside communication except the radio in the Jeep, he was on his own. And Boone, a tough, dirty brawler who outweighed him by thirty pounds, was bound to put up a fight. If the fight ended the wrong way, Emma would be left alone, without protection. He couldn’t take that chance. Short of shooting the bastard, which would be murder now that the man was unarmed, his safest bet would be to talk Boone into leaving.
“What you did is called theft by deception,” John said. “Emma’s already talked to the police. If they catch you, you’ll be in for some serious jail time. But if you’d give back her cash and promise to leave her alone, chances are we could talk the little lady into dropping the charges.”
Boone’s response was part guffaw, part snarl. “Charges? That’s a friggin’ joke. The bitch set my trailer on fire and burned it to the ground. She owes me!”
“You can tell that to the judge,” John said. “But there’s one more thing—something even more important to Emma than the money. You played on her trust and betrayed her. What she really wants is to make sure you never hurt another woman that way again.”
“Well, you can tell the friggin’ little bitch she already got her wish.” Raising a bandaged right hand, Boone swept away his hat. Moonlight gleamed on the burned and blistered streak that ran down the side of his head, from the crown of his scalp to his fire-maimed ear and down to his jaw. “No woman’s ever goin’ to want me again—not unless she’s as blind as a bat!”
John willed himself not to stare as the realization sank in. Emma’s escape had scarred this man for life. His thirst for revenge wouldn’t be satisfied until he’d made her suffer.
Stepping back, he used his foot to shove the empty rifle back within Boone’s reach. “Emma didn’t do that to you, Boone,” he said. “You brought it on yourself when you set out to cheat her. Now put your hat on, take your gun, and go. If you ever try to come near her again, so help me, I’ll shoot you where it’ll hurt the worst!”
Boone slapped the hat back on his head and bent down to hook his hand around the rifle. As he straightened, his face wore a smirking grin. “I’ll be damned,” he said. “You’ve fallen head over heels for the little bitch, haven’t you? Well, good luck with her, my Injun brother. Don’t get burned like I did.” With that, he turned, strode away, and vanished into the trees.
John stood in place, pistol at the ready, until he heard the distant rumble of a truck pulling away through the trees. Even then he waited in the silence, alert for any sign that Boone hadn’t really left.
He took a few minutes to climb into the Jeep and radio the state troopers. But even if they came rushing right out, by the time they got here, Boone would be long gone. Boone knew the back country trails and logging roads like the palm of his hand. He could come and go at will without being seen. And sooner or later, he would be back, looking for Emma.
* * *
Knowing he wouldn’t sleep, John sank onto the porch steps and watched the cloud bank roll in from the west. Sheet lightning danced across the dark sky. Thunder growled a muted warning.
You’ve fallen head over heels . . .
Boone’s taunting words played like a loop in his head. Why couldn’t he just dismiss them? Was it because they’d struck a note of truth?
John muttered a curse. He was too old and cynical for a teenage crush. True, he liked Emma. He admired her spunk and courage. And she’d become important to him. Keeping her safe had become an urgent priority. But falling? That would be crazy. Boone’s words were nothing more than an attempt to rattle him.
Emma would need to know that Boone had been here. He didn’t want to terrify her, but she had to understand that she was no longer safe in this remote cabin. Not even with him. For now he would let her rest while he kept watch. He could tell her first thing in the morning.
By the time he went inside, the stars were gone and a soft rain had begun to fall. The gentle sound pattered on the porch roof above his head. Not wanting to wake Emma, he opened the door softly.
The room was dark, the fire almost out. As he crossed the floor to the hallway, he saw that the love seat had been turned partway toward the front door. Something stirred against the cushions. It was Emma, huddled in the blanket.
“I hope you aren’t going to say there was a bear outside,” she said. “I don’t want to hear a lie.”
John walked toward her, pausing to lay the gun on the side table. “No, it wasn’t a bear,” he said. “Go back to bed. You’re safe. We can talk in the morning.”
“We can talk now,” she said. “I’ve been awake since I heard you go outside. I couldn’t go back to sleep if I had to.”
“Fine.” He walked to the fireplace, stirred the glowing coals, and added another log, along with a few sticks of kindling. Then he pushed the love seat back to face the fire and settled on the end opposite Emma.
“I heard voices,” she said. “It was Boone, wasn’t it?”
“It was. He’s gone.” John watched the log catch fire.
“You couldn’t stop him?”
“I stopped him from coming inside. But no, short of shooting the bastard, there was nothing I could do to stop him from leaving.” He turned to face her. “He’ll be back, Emma. And after what I saw and heard tonight, I know he’s not going to give up until he punishes you in the worst way.”
“What did you see?” Her eyes were large in the firelight.
“You didn’t just burn the trailer. Boone was burned, too—right here.” He indicated the extent of Boone’s burns with his hand. “He says that, given the way he looks, no woman will ever want him again—and he’s determined to make you pay for what you did to him.”
“Pay?” The quiver in her voice betrayed her fear. “He stole seventeen thousand dollars from me. That old trailer was nothing but junk. What can he be thinking?”
John turned away to gaze into the leaping flames. “Knowing what Boone’s capable of, I don’t think either of us wants to find out,” he said.
In the silence that followed, he sensed that she was breaking under the stress. She’d begun to tremble. A low sob escaped her lips. What he’d just said to her was frightening, but she needed to hear it. Growing up, he’d witnessed Boone’s cruelty to small, weak creatures unlucky enough to cross his path. Emma needed to understand that the danger to her was all too real.
“I didn’t mean for that to happen.” She was crying now, her shoulders heaving with deep, heartfelt sobs. “I didn’t want him hurt. I only wanted to get away.”
Heartsick, John watched her. Lord, she didn’t deserve this. She’d come to Alaska full of hope and trust, eager to begin her own loving family. Instead she found herself stalked and hunted by the revenge-hungry monster she’d chosen to be her husband. It was the ultimate betrayal.
Not knowing what else to do, he reached out and gathered her close, cradling her against him. “I’m sorry,” he whispered against her soft hair. “Damn it, girl, I’m sorry.”
He felt her quivering as she struggled to control herself. Little by little her crying eased and her shaking slowed, but she made no move to push away. Instead she clung to him, as if he were the only solid element in her crumbling world. Where his hand rested on her back, John could feel the pounding of her heart. Where her head rested in the hollow of his shoulder, his shirt was damp with her tears. He cradled her gently, his free hand stroking her tangled hair. “It’s all right,” he murmured. “I’m here. I won’t let anything happen to you. . . .”
Only then, when she failed to reply, did John realize that she’d fallen asleep in his arms.