Against the Sky (9 page)

Nick felt a frown forming between his eyes. “Wait a minute. Those dates don't jive with the info we have on Evanko. He couldn't have been in school. He didn't get out of jail till ninety-six.”

She turned and flashed him a grin. “I know. What his online résumé doesn't say is that Alexi got his degrees through correspondence courses. It's public record. By the time he was released from prison, he had a bachelor's and an accounting degree.”

“Jankowski, Sorenson had to know he was an ex-con.”

“Maybe. But maybe he never mentioned that part of his past. He had to have a bachelor's degree to take the Alaska state CPA exam. That would have had to happen before he went to Fairbanks. Jankowski, Sorenson could have checked, found out he had what he needed to work for them. Maybe they just looked at his letter of recommendation and the rest of his résumé, and there was nothing about the fact he had gotten his degrees long distance.”

“Be interesting to see exactly how much the company knew about Evans before he went to work for them.”

“Are you going to talk to them? If you do, that might be a problem for Jimmy.”

Frustration rolled through him. “I know. We've got to move slowly. We can't afford to draw attention to what we're doing. I told Jimmy that. I told him he needed to do things as normally as possible.”

“Was he okay?”

“Seemed to be. Jimmy trusts me. Now that I'm involved, I don't think he feels quite so alone.” He drew her up out of the chair and into his arms, bent and began to kiss the side of her neck. She smelled like flowers and tasted like heaven. Heat rolled through him, settled low in his groin. He felt the tremor that ran through Samantha's petite frame and began to get hard.

Nick forced himself to let her go. “I need to get out of here for a while. The weather's going to turn bad. Let's go for a ride on the ATV.”

Her light brown eyebrows went up. “ATV? Is that a motorcycle?”

Nick laughed. “Not exactly. It stands for all terrain vehicle. It's got four wheels, not two.”

“I've never ridden on anything like that, not even a motorcycle.”

Nick grinned. “I have a hunch there're a lot of things you haven't done before. With any luck, I'll get a chance to teach you some of them.”

Her cheeks colored prettily. Sometimes he thought she was even more naïve than he had first imagined. He didn't know why that pleased him, but it did.

“We won't go far, just around a little of the lake, maybe stop and have an early dinner in town before we come home.”

“I got so involved I forgot to thaw the trout, so that's probably a good idea.”

“Grab your jacket and meet me out back.”

“Okay.” Samantha headed one way and Nick headed the other.

Maybe a little fresh air would clear his head. It wouldn't be as good as sex, but for now it would have to do.

Seated on the back of the four-wheeler, as Nick called it, Samantha tightened her arms around his waist and kept her cheek pressed against his wide back. Her thighs hugged his, while her crotch nestled against his tight behind.

Her heart was thundering. She was trying to ignore the faint throbbing between her legs from the vibration of the engine and the seam of her jeans rubbing her most sensitive spot. She forced herself to concentrate on the scenery. Off to the left, Fish Lake stretched for miles along the grassy path Nick raced along toward town.

They weren't going very fast, he said, only about twenty-five miles an hour, but it seemed as if they were flying. The engine noise roared through her head, making her ears ring. By the time Nick pulled up in front of The Sleepy Moose Pizza Parlor, her legs were so stiff from gripping him so hard, she could barely unwind herself from around his body.

Sensing her dilemma, he swung a long leg over the front of the machine, hopped down, and lifted her off.

“So what did you think?”

What did she think? Her mind had fogged out miles ago. “It's . . . umm . . . an interesting way to travel.”

He grinned. “Good for hunting and fishing. I guess you'd rather ride in a car.”

“Or walk. I walk everywhere in San Francisco. It's very good exercise.”

He opened his mouth, looked like he was going to make a comment about a different, more enjoyable kind of exercise, but didn't. “So that's how you stay in shape?” he said instead.

Samantha nodded. “I also do yoga three or four days a week. It keeps me limber.”

Those hot blue eyes went dark. “I remember,” he said gruffly, and glanced away.

Samantha could feel her cheeks heating up. Forgodsake, she'd had sex with other men. Well, only one besides Justin, but still. There was just something about Nick Brodie that brought out the wicked part of her nature. A part she hadn't really known she had.

“Let's get some pizza,” he said, reaching out to take her hand. “The day's almost gone. Tomorrow, we'll start digging again.” As he tugged her toward the door, he looked back at her over his shoulder. “By the way, I really appreciate your help on this thing with Jimmy.”

“I'm glad there's something I can do.”

He nodded, led her into the restaurant, which had the head of a huge moose hanging on the wall behind the bar. An odd assortment of baseball caps decorated its massive horns.

“Good Lord, I had no idea a moose was that big!”

Nick just smiled. “Alaska moose are the biggest in the world. Their antlers can be seven feet across.” He grinned. “You don't want to run into one in the woods. They can be more dangerous than a grizzly.”

Samantha felt a chill. “Are there . . . are there any around here?”

Nick shrugged his shoulders and a memory suddenly struck of him naked, of how wide those muscular shoulders actually were. A sweep of lust washed through her, along with a rush of embarrassment. Samantha glanced away.

“This is Alaska,” Nick said. “Moose are pretty much everywhere.”

Confirming her initial feeling that Alaska was the last place on the globe she'd want to live.

Nick reached over and caught her hand. “Hey, you aren't in any danger. If for some reason you run across a moose, you just back slowly away and leave him alone. Like most animals, they won't bother you if you don't bother them.”

Samantha looked up at the gigantic head on the wall. “I'll keep that in mind.”

“So how about a beer?” Nick asked, helping her up into a high-backed bar stool at the long wooden bar.

“I . . . umm . . . think I'm more in the mood for a Coke.”

He turned to the bartender, ordered an Arctic Devil for himself and a Coke for her. At least he hadn't asked her why she wasn't drinking. But then they hadn't drunk all that much when they were in Las Vegas either.

“Arctic Devil?” She cocked an eyebrow in his direction as the bartender, an older guy with long, silver hair tied back with a piece of leather, slid a bottle of beer across the bar.

Nick just laughed. “It's from an Anchorage brewery. Named after the wolverine. If you like malty beer, it's great.”

She smiled. “Bud Light is about the limit of my beer-drinking sophistication.” The bartender set a Coke on the bar in front of her. Samantha picked up the frosty mug and took a sip.

Nick glanced toward the kitchen, inhaled the aroma of tomato sauce and garlic. “Man, that smells good. What kind of pizza do you like?”

Samantha took a look around the room, checking out the food. About half of the tables were filled, a mixture of kids and adults, some couples, mostly families. All wore jeans, most had on hiking boots. Their burgers and pizza looked good. “Whatever you want is fine.”

Nick cast her a glance. “I don't suppose you like pepperoni?”

She grinned. “I love pepperoni. I pretend it's chicken so I don't have a guilty conscience.”

Nick laughed. He ordered a supreme, all the veggies, double mozzarella, and pepperoni. He picked up his beer, she grabbed her Coke, and they walked over and sat down at one of the empty tables.

Nick took a swig of his beer. As he set it back down, his gaze wandered out the window and his expression subtly shifted, turned darker than it was before.

“You're thinking about Jimmy,” she said. “You're worried about how to approach the investigation.”

He seemed surprised she could read his thoughts, but for whatever reason, she'd felt a connection to Nick Brodie from the start.

“You're right. I feel like my hands are tied. The police have the info I need, but I can't bring them into this—at least not yet.”

“What about Cord? The two of you worked together. Can you trust him?”

“Cord's my best friend. I'd trust him with my life. In the past, I have. I just hate putting him in the middle of something when it has to stay unofficial.”

She sipped her Coke, wished it were a glass of white wine. “Cord said you were a very good detective. You never told me why you left the force. Cord seemed to think you just wanted a long vacation.”

Nick rubbed a hand over his jaw. This late in the day, it was dark with an afternoon beard. “I told you I was a Ranger. I was in Iraq and Afghanistan. I've seen a lot, done a lot of things, but I always felt I was doing something good, that I was helping protect our country. Can you understand that?”

“I suppose I can, yes.” The hero gene, she thought. She'd been right to think Nick had it.

“Then I went into police work. I was dealing with a totally different element. People weren't fighting for a cause. They were just greedy, or perverted, or cruel. Some of them were flat-out sadistic.”

“There are a lot of good people, too.”

“I know that. But the job is to catch the bad guys. The last case I worked involved the disappearance of a young girl. She was only thirteen. Turned out she was the victim of a serial killer. He'd murdered two other girls in Seattle before he came to Alaska.”

“Did you catch him?”

He nodded, tipped up the bottle and took a drink of beer. “We caught him—though I wound up in a beef with my superior over cutting legal corners. So what if I cut through a shitload of red tape? We caught him. Unfortunately, not before he'd killed that young girl. I decided it was time to get out. Find something that made me happy instead of giving me nightmares. I had enough money to take some time off so that's what I did.”

“That's how you ended up in Vegas, right?”

He nodded. “My brother, Rafe, figured I needed a break so he bought me a plane ticket.” Nick smiled. “I'm glad he did—since I met you.”

Samantha thought of the hours she had spent in bed with Nick and heat stirred low in her belly. “So . . . now that you've quit, what are you going to do?”

He sat back in his chair. “That's the bad news. I don't know. This thing with Jimmy, it's got my juices flowing. I feel like I'm doing something useful again.”

“You've got time to figure it out. Meanwhile, you're helping Jimmy, and that's a very important job.”

He nodded, looked up as a teenage girl with a long red braid walked out from behind the counter carrying their pizza. She set it down on the table along with a couple of paper plates.

“Enjoy,” the girl said.

Each of them grabbed a slice and slid it onto a plate. Samantha picked up her slice and bit into it, but when she looked at Nick, he was staring out the window again.

She reached over and touched his arm. “You'll figure it out.”

Nick looked back at her and grabbed a piece of pizza. “I have to,” he said. “I'm all Jimmy's got.”

And Samantha knew right then that Nick Brodie would be a very good father. She had to tell him about the baby—and soon.

The bite of pizza she had taken suddenly stuck in her throat.

 

 

Nick didn't sleep worth a damn. Again. When he wasn't thinking of Jimmy and Mary and how to collect information without setting off alarms, he was thinking of Samantha, frustrated and aching to have her.

He woke up crabby and needing a caffeine fix, headed for the bathroom, came out a few minutes later, and pulled on his jeans, wandered shirtless and barefoot down the hall. He was halfway to the kitchen before he caught the aroma of fresh-brewed coffee. The sizzle of frying bacon made his mouth water as he walked into the kitchen.

Samantha turned and smiled at him. She was wearing the green canvas apron again over jeans and a soft pink cable knit sweater. It gave him a funny little kick to see her there, looking so much at home.

“I figured you'd be busy today,” she said. “A good breakfast is the best way to get started.”

“Oh, man. Bacon and eggs? Are you kidding me?”

“Actually, it's bacon, and a cheese and veggie soufflé. Kind of a compromise. I hope that's okay. Oh, and I made biscuits.”

“Jesus.” He walked over and hauled her into his arms, gave her a quick, hard kiss. “That sounds great. I thought you'd still be sleeping.”

“I woke up early.” She glanced away and he wondered if her night had been as restless as his. If she hadn't slept, it didn't show—the lady looked good enough to eat. Nick inwardly groaned at the image that brought to mind.

While Samantha finished cooking, he set the table, then went in, took a quick shower, and dressed. He was walking back down the hall, towel-drying his hair when he heard a knock at the door.

“I got it,” he said, recognizing Cord's familiar three short raps. He opened the door and his friend walked into the living room. “Your timing, as usual, is perfect. Samantha's just putting breakfast on the table.”

“We need to talk,” Cord said. “I found those guys you were looking for.”

Worry filtered through Nick at the dark look on his best friend's face. “We can talk while we eat.”

“What about Samantha?”

“She knows what's going on.”

“Well, you damn well better tell me.”

Nick just nodded and Cord followed him into the kitchen. “We've got company,” he said.

Samantha glanced up and smiled. “Hi, Cord.” She set a couple of steaming plates piled high with food down on the table. “Don't worry, I fixed plenty. Kind of a habit I learned from my mom.” She went back to fill a plate for herself, then sat down at the table to join them.

“So what did you come up with?” Nick asked, digging into the soufflé, barely suppressing a groan of pleasure.

“Samantha, this is great,” Cord said without answering. “So your mother taught you to cook?”

“She taught me the basics. Since then, it's become kind of a hobby.”

Cord flicked a glance at Nick, winked at Samantha. “You want to get married?”

She flushed and Nick clenched his jaw. His friend was way too good-looking and a little too impressed with Samantha.

Cord grinned. “Just kidding, okay?” He took another hefty bite. “This really is great, though.”

“Thank you,” Samantha said.

Nick decided to let the conversation wait, keep things easy until they'd finished breakfast. He didn't want to spoil a meal this good by talking about murder.

He buttered a light, perfectly golden-brown biscuit and slathered on some honey. They talked about the weather and Samantha's first ride on an ATV, which she described as “harrowing” and made him grin.

When breakfast ended, they all got up and carried their plates to the sink. He considered leaving Samantha out of the conversation with Cord, but she seemed to have guessed his friend was there with information, and her look said that wasn't going to happen.

Besides, he needed her help on the Internet, never his long suit. The more she knew about the problem, the more help she could be.

“Coffee's ready,” she said as a fresh pot finished brewing on the counter. She filled their cups and one for herself, and they all sat back down at the table.

“So what did you find out?” Nick asked again.

Cord's easy smile slid away. “I kept thinking about the skinny guy with the long, hooked nose. His description was niggling at the back of my mind. I dug through some old mug shots and spotted him. Name's Cyrus Crocker. Knew him from back when I was working burglary. That put me onto his accomplice, a big guy named Virgil Turnbull. They call him The Bull. He and Crocker pulled a couple of jobs together, minor theft, breaking and entering, got off with ninety-day sentences.”

“Doesn't fit what they seem to be into now,” Nick said.