Damage ( SF worlds #45 ) - Elle Thorne Page 0,2

and then trying to traverse the territory.

She was paying good money, so why was the pilot late? You’d think that kind of cash would procure punctuality.

You’d think.

She took a sip of a quickly cooling latte and scanned the street, then let her gaze take in the Chugach Mountains, their green-and-white peaks, which would be totally white come wintertime, according to the brochures she’d picked up at the Visitor’s Center.

A man approached. Tall, scruffy. Big. Give him a full beard, and he could have been a Viking. Did she mention he was big? She was glad he wasn’t bearded. Those bearded ones weren’t really her type. There was something about him. She couldn’t have said what. Maybe it was the amber flames in the depths of his light eyes. Color like the sky over the ocean, but with flickering swirls of gold. Oddest color she’d ever seen. Almost made her think of that man Eira had brought to the apartment. That had been right before Eira vanished. The thought of Eira created pain in Emme’s chest. It felt like her heart was being put through one of those shredders that cross-cut paper. She became so immersed in her thoughts, she briefly forgot Almost-Nordic Man. Not that it mattered. She wasn’t interested. She’d already had to rebuff two horny Alaskan men this morning. Where the hell were the women? What was up with the men? Those two were big, lumberjack guys who seemed to think they were god’s gift to women, and she should be fawning all over them.

As if.

Then she noticed Almost-Nordic Man was standing before her and he’d said something.

“Pardon?” She looked him up and down. Big wasn’t the half of it. Muscular. Yup. Handsome face, too. Now, why couldn’t he be in Chicago? And particularly at a time when she wasn’t trying to find her missing—translation, runaway—sister. Translation, being hunted and hopefully-not-dead sister.

“Miss Autumn Emerson?” His voice was husky. A just-got-out-of-bed voice, but in the middle of the morning.

“Yes.” She’d opted for an alias. The driver’s license she was traveling under had her listed as Autumn Emerson from Miami, Florida. She squinted at Almost-Nordic Muscle Man. Her mind was befuddled because she was way too involved in this case, her missing sister. It wasn’t a typical case, and she was not focusing like she needed to. “You’re the one I’m expecting?” That question right there proved how scrambled her brain was. He did know her name—alias—after all, so why wouldn’t he be?

Strong jaw with a nicely defined chin tipped down in a quick nod. “I’m your ride. Red Devil, right?”

She raised a brow. “You’re the pilot?” She wouldn’t have pegged hunky Almost-Nordic Man as a pilot.

His lip curved the slightest bit. She couldn’t tell if that was supposed to be a smile, a smirk, or a condescending sneer. “Asa Wulfsen. Pilot and driver.”

“Asa Wulfsen? I thought I was waiting for...” She looked down and thumbed through her phone. “Someone called Davin.” She double-checked. “Davin Wulfsen.”

“He couldn’t make it. Not that it matters. We’re brothers. We both hire out. Any of us, actually.”

Any of them?

Made her wonder how many of them there were, but then again, it didn’t matter. What mattered was finding Eira.

“I still have the cabin Davin arranged?”

“If that’s what he arranged, then you have it.”

“And you have a Tahoe waiting for me at the airport?”

“I have a vehicle waiting for us. I’m sure Davin explained the terms to you. We don’t let our vehicles go with any tourist that happens to want to explore the bush.” He shrugged thick, defined shoulders under a gray thermal shirt, top two buttons unbuttoned. Untucked, it was layered under a—also untucked—peat moss-colored plaid shirt jacket. There was no hiding the muscles bulging through, even with two layers of fabric. Those muscles extended downward, filling out denim, quads popping.

Once more, she found herself thinking how she wished she had her sister Eira safe and sound and was at a bar meeting this guy for the very first time. She slipped a finger under the hat and scratched lightly.

Though this was not the itch she really wanted scratched.

Chapter Three

On the plane trip between Anchorage and Red Devil, a particular train of thought had been playing on Asa’s mind. Autumn Emerson was a beauty. Even Asa’s wolf could stall its persistent perpetual attempts to kill him long enough to notice her.

This might be the only thing they’d agreed on in years, him and his wolf.

Too bad Asa couldn’t see her hair. And her eyes.