Against the Wild (34 page)

He smiled. “I made a pot before you came. I remembered you always liked coffee.”

“It smells really good.” She rose from the sofa, hoping to distract him. “Do you mind if I get myself a cup?”

Dylan, Nick, and Caleb were out there waiting for a chance to get inside the house. She prayed Emily would stay in the bedroom, or that she had gone out the window.

Unfortunately, Kyle rose, too, took Lane's hand, and led her over to the kitchen counter. “I'll get the cups.”

Taking down a pair of mugs, he set them on the counter and filled them with hot black coffee. Steam rose from the top of the mug.

Over Kyle's shoulder, Lane caught a glimpse of Dylan next to the window. He quickly moved out of sight beside the front door. Lane's heart was pounding. This was the chance she had been praying for. She picked up the mug, blew on the top, pretending to cool it. When Dylan came into her line of vision again, Lane tossed the scalding coffee into Kyle's face and bolted for the front door.

Everything happened at once. Kyle knocked her down and threw himself on top of her. Dylan crashed through the front door, and Nick kicked the back door open. Lane struggled, but Kyle was a powerful man and he was straddling her, pinning her to the floor.

“Don't move!” Dylan commanded. His revolver, and Nick's big semiautomatic were pointed straight at Kyle's head.

“Move back or I kill her!” Kyle shouted. Lane swallowed, felt the cold steel blade of a knife pressed into her throat. She looked up at him, into eyes that had changed from those of a would-be lover to the eyes of a killer.

“Take it easy,” Dylan said, lowering his weapon a fraction. Nick shifted position, the barrel of his gun aimed in a way that Whitaker would take the bullet and it wouldn't hit Lane. “Nobody needs to get hurt.”

Lane stared up at Kyle, his face red and beginning to blister, coffee running down his cheeks. “Why did you do that, Lane? I thought you cared about me.”

“Get off her, Whitaker,” Nick warned.

“You need to think this through,” Dylan said, shifting his own position a little. “Killing Holly was an accident. Accidents happen. You kill Lane, you'll be a murderer.”

“I'm not a murderer,” Kyle said, but the blade didn't waver.

“Let Lane go and we'll work this out,” Nick said. “You don't really want to hurt her and she doesn't want you to get hurt, either.”

Kyle's gaze remained on her face. “What'll I do without you?” he asked, and in that moment, Lane read his thoughts. She'd been the focus of his life for months. Without her, he had no goals, no idea what to do with himself. He was going to die and take her with him.

Kyle's hand tightened on the knife and Lane screamed at the echo of gunfire. Two bullets from Nick's gun, and two from Dylan's, slammed into Kyle's body. The knife fell away and he slumped sideways onto the floor.

In an instant, the weight of his body was completely gone and she was being hauled up into Dylan's arms. Shaking and crying, she clung to him, held on to him for dear life.

“It's okay, baby. It's over.”

Lane trembled, then remembered the little girl in the bedroom. “Emily!” She tried to break free, but Dylan's hold only tightened.

“Em's safe. She climbed out the bedroom window.”

Lane started crying. “I was so scared for her.” Terrified that she would be the cause of the little girl's death. Horrified to think what her loss would have done to Dylan. To her.

Dylan slid an arm around her waist and started leading her toward the door. “Come on, baby. Let's get out of here.”

Lane swallowed, felt a moment of pity for the man whose life had ended so badly. Leaning against Dylan, she let him guide her out the door.

Dylan led Lane outside and spotted Caleb coming down from his position on the hill. As he reached the cabin, he saw Kyle lying on the floor inside. “I guess it's finally over.”

“Over for all of us.” Lane was safe and Caleb's name would be cleared. At the bottom of the steps, she glanced back toward the house.

“I think . . . I think he wanted you to shoot him.”

Nick walked down the stairs behind them. “Suicide by cop,” he said. “I think you might be right, Lane. We'll never really know.”

“Whatever happened, it wasn't because of you,” Dylan said firmly. “Life isn't always fair. Whitaker got a rotten deal, but a lot of people have problems. He could have made different choices. Instead, he killed a woman, nearly killed you, too.”

They rounded the house to the back, spotted Emily's dark head where she peered over the top of a big granite boulder. With a sob, she raced toward them down the hill.

“She's talking, Dylan,” Lane said. “Did you hear her?”

“She told me Lane was inside,” Nick said, “wanted me to go in and help her. Maybe something good came out of this after all.”

Dylan ran to meet his daughter, caught her up in his arms. “I've got you, honey. Lane's safe and everyone's okay.”

Emily buried her head in his shoulder. “I w-was so s-scared, D-daddy.”

Dylan's eyes slid closed. He swallowed past the tightness in his throat and hugged his little girl. “I've got you now. You don't ever have to be afraid again.”

Amazing how quickly the past few days had gone by. After the shooting, Dylan had phoned the Alaska State Troopers; then all of them had waited outside the cabin for the police chopper to arrive.

With the deep forest and heavy foliage, the helicopter had to land a mile away. The troopers found the overgrown road and walked in on foot. Other officers and the coroner drove in by road, making the time-consuming journey from Waterside.

By the next day, things had settled down. Nick returned to Fish Lake, the rural town he lived in north of Anchorage, and got busy doing less than nothing again. Dylan hoped that would soon change.

Rafe called, ranting at him and Nick for not keeping him in the loop. His older brother had been worried, he'd finally admitted, which wasn't easy for Rafe to admit, since he wasn't exactly the touchy-feely type. But then none of them really were.

The mechanic in Waterside had flown into Moose Lake to make engine repairs on the plane. Dylan and Caleb had hiked in to meet him, then flown the plane back to Eagle Bay.

Caleb had been cleared of all charges. In Whitaker's rented Jeep, they'd found a charm off Holly's silver chain, along with a scarf belonging to Lane that Kyle had taken from the lodge. It still sent a shudder down Dylan's spine to think of the guy prowling around inside the house.

Finn was home and healing very well, a huge relief to Lane and Emily.

For the last few days, Caleb had been in Waterside, spending time with Jenny. He seemed really happy. Dylan hoped things worked out for the two of them.

Emily was talking, but she still didn't say very much. Though the dam had been breached, Dylan could see that whatever barrier stood between them remained, making their brief conversations stilted and uncomfortable.

Things would get better, he told himself, hoping he could find a way to make that happen.

But added to that disappointment, things had begun to deteriorate between him and Lane. In the few days since the shooting, she'd been sleeping in her own room instead of beside him in his. He wasn't sure if she was trying to recover from seeing a man killed in front of her, or if she was distancing herself, preparing herself to leave.

He found out that night after supper when her familiar soft rap came at his door. Barefoot and wearing just his jeans, he pulled the door open, found Lane standing in the hall, her pink fleece robe belted around her, the collar turned up and her hands shoved into her pockets.

His heart jerked. At the same time desire slid through him. He wanted to drag her inside and off to his bed. He wanted to ravish her.

He wanted to tell her he had fallen in love with her, that he never wanted her to leave.

He wouldn't. He couldn't do that to Emily. Or to himself.

“Could we . . . could we talk?”

“Sure.” He forced himself to step back to let her pass. “Come on in.” She wanted to talk. He could see by her face it wasn't going to be good.

They sat down on the sofa in front of the empty hearth. He wished there was a fire. “You feeling any better?”

“A little. I know there was nothing anyone could have done to change what happened.”

“Only Kyle.”

“I've thought a lot about it. In a way, maybe it was for the best. I don't think Kyle was the kind of man who could stand being locked up in a mental facility, and that's what would have happened to him.”

He took her hand, brought it to his lips. “I wish it could have been different.”

“I wish a lot of things could be different.” She glanced down at their linked hands, eased hers free. “I've decided to go back early, Dylan. Everything's been ordered. Some of it isn't here yet, but it's on its way. I think it would be better for all of us if I left now instead of waiting.”

His chest clamped down. He didn't want her to leave. He wanted her to stay so much, he had to clench his jaw to keep from saying the words. It wouldn't work. Both of them knew it. Had known it from the start.

“I know you have your own life to live.”

She nodded. “I've got a flight out day after tomorrow. That'll give me time to pack my samples and get them ready to ship. And say good-bye to everyone.”

He swallowed, ignored the tightness in his throat. “All right.”

She reached up and touched his cheek. “There's so much I want to say.”

“You don't have to say anything. We knew how this would end when you came up here.”

Her eyes filled. “Maybe I did. I guess I did. Doesn't make it any easier.”

“No, it doesn't.”

“Make love to me, Dylan. I need you.”

He needed her, too. Maybe had known it deep down the first time he'd seen her.

Kissing her softly, he scooped her into his arms and carried her into the bedroom. There was nothing beneath her robe, he discovered as he settled her in the middle of his bed and stripped the fluffy pink fleece away, let his gaze roam over her long legs, slender waist, and pretty, upturned breasts.

“I'll always remember these weeks we've been together,” he said.

“I couldn't forget, even if I tried.”

He kissed her, left her long enough to slide out of his jeans, then came down beside her on the bed. He spent long moments just looking at her, memorizing the lines of her face, her supple, slender curves. She was so beautiful.

But it was a deeper sort of beauty than he had noticed when he had first seen her. There was a kindness in Lane that made her lovelier than he'd first realized. A boldness of spirit and a giving heart.

He kissed her softly, looped strands of fiery hair behind her ear. He kissed the corners of her mouth, her bottom lip, her eyes, her nose, took her mouth again. His chest was aching. He had never really understood how painful it could be to love someone.

He understood it now.

They made love slowly, deeply. A different sort of lovemaking from before. They climbed the pinnacle together, bodies joined, breathing as one, and his heart filled with love and pain.

He wanted to tell her. Knew it wouldn't be fair.

He thought that she might love him, too, but it didn't matter. Couldn't matter. As they spiraled down, the world tried to intrude, but he refused to let it.

“Sleep with me tonight,” he said.

“Dylan . . .”

“Please, love. Tonight's all we have.”

She nodded. He ignored the tears in her eyes as he curled her against him. He'd let her sleep for a while, then make love to her again.

For him, there would be no sleep. He wanted to hold off the dawn, wanted to postpone those final hours, knowing the rest of his life would be without her.

 

 

In the office the following morning, Lane continued packing, getting ready to leave on the flight out tomorrow. She had gone to Dylan last night, unable to bear staying away a moment more. Making love with him had been her final good-bye. Both of them knew it. Both of them felt the pain.

Her own was deeper than she could have imagined. She couldn't face it again tonight. Tonight she would sleep alone, be ready to travel first thing in the morning.

Caleb was driving her to Waterside. She was taking one of the small commercial planes to Ketchikan, catching a flight to Seattle, and heading back to Los Angeles from there. When she'd told Dylan her plan, he hadn't tried to dissuade her.

Another good-bye would be painful for him, too.

She thought about their last night together. As she had stood in the hall outside his door, she had thought about telling him the truth, telling him she loved him and wanted to stay. But the moment she had seen his face, she had known it would be useless.

Dylan didn't believe she could be happy living in the harsh environment of Alaska. Her unhappiness would make him and his daughter unhappy, too. Nothing she could say was going to change his mind.

She tossed a stack of carpet samples into the shipping box and closed it up, sealed it with packing tape, and set the box aside. She worked for another half hour, getting things labeled and organized.

She was almost done when she looked up and saw Winnie standing in the doorway. Lane managed to muster a smile. “I'm glad you're here. I was coming to say good-bye.”

Winnie walked forward, wrapped Lane in her chubby arms. “We're all going to miss you.”

She just nodded, fought not to cry. “I'll miss all of you, too.”

“Especially Dylan,” Winnie said, easing her hold and stepping back to see Lane's face.

Lane glanced away.

“I know you love him. Why don't you tell him?”

She shook her head, wiped a stray tear off her cheek. “You know the way he feels. He's sure I'd leave him and Emily, just like Mariah.”

“But you wouldn't, would you?”

She wiped another tear. “No.” She turned, walked past Winnie, then stopped and turned back at the door. “I've got to go upstairs and finish packing. Thank you for everything.”

Winnie said nothing. Lane saw her brushing away tears of her own.

Upstairs, she walked past the suitcase lying open on her bed, and moved over to the window. On the other side of the glass, beautiful forested hillsides surrounded the lodge. Jagged granite peaks glinted white with snow.

She remembered her last plane ride, the engine failure, camping with Dylan beside the lake, making love in a tent, watching him grin as she praised the taste of the fish he had caught and fried. She remembered the bear she had confronted, standing up to it and driving it away. She remembered the long trek through the woods, dodging gunfire.

She was stronger than Dylan believed. She'd be stronger still with a man by her side who loved her. She thought about telling him that.

But Dylan wouldn't believe her.

Lane packed the rest of her clothes, then closed her suitcase. Tomorrow she was going home.

 

 

Dylan walked out the front door, onto the porch that overlooked Eagle Bay. It was beautiful here, with the changing blues and grays of the sea and sky overhead, the mountains reflected in the water. As far as he was concerned, the most beautiful place in the world. The wild forest creatures added life to the landscape around him, moose and bear, squirrels and birds, the fish he watched jump in the bay.

Alaska was in his blood. It was part of his DNA. He wouldn't be happy anywhere else, and he was smart enough to know it. And he knew that Lane understood.

It was something else he admired about her.

He turned at the sound of small footsteps behind him, saw Emily hurrying toward him across the porch.

He managed to smile. “Hi, honey. What are you doing out here?”

She looked up at him with solemn blue eyes, a lighter shade than his own. “Lane's l-leaving, Daddy.” A rusty note remained in her voice, but every day she sounded better.

“I know, sweetheart. She has to go back to L.A.”

“Don't d-do it, Daddy. Don't s-send Lane away.”

His heart squeezed. He wasn't sending her away, and yet it felt as if that was exactly what he was doing.

“She wouldn't like it here, honey. Sooner or later, she'd want to go back home.”

“No, s-she wouldn't. Lane is-isn't like Mama. She wouldn't run off and leave us.”

“Listen to me, honey—”

“Mama d-didn't love us, Daddy. She s-said so. She told me the n-night she ran away.”

Dylan frowned as he knelt in front of his daughter. “You saw your mother that night?”

She nodded, looked as if she was fighting not to cry. “I f-followed her outside. There was a man there w-waiting in his car. I b-begged her not to go. I asked her to t-take me with her, but she wouldn't. She said she never wanted a kid. She didn't want me. She said she would be happier somewhere else.”

Emily started crying, and Dylan pulled her into his arms. “It's all right, honey. That was a long time ago.”

“It was my f-fault she left. And then she got killed.”

Dylan's arms tightened around her. “It wasn't your fault. It was mine. Your mother never wanted to live in Alaska. She hated it here. That's the reason she left.”

She looked up at him, her pink cheeks streaked with tears. “Mama didn't love us enough.”

“No, she didn't.”

“But Lane does. I k-know she does. Lane loves us enough to stay.”

He looked over the little girl's shoulder, saw Lane standing on the porch next to Finn.

“Yes, I do,” Lane said, her green eyes shimmering with tears. “I love you both with all my heart, and I'd never leave you.”

Dylan set Emily on her feet. His chest was squeezing. Finn woofed, and Emily ran over and threw her arms around the big dog's neck.

Dylan walked toward Lane.

“I want to stay,” she said softly when he reached her. “I love you, Dylan. It doesn't matter where I live as long as I'm with you.”

He drew her against him, buried his face in her hair. “I don't want you to leave. I don't ever want you to leave. I love you, Lane. It's killing me to let you go.”

She looked up at him, her eyes brimming with tears. “Then ask me to stay.”

A shuddering breath whispered out. Hope was clawing its way into his chest. “What about your job? You have a house, a business to run in L.A.”

“I'm a painter. Painting is what I love to do. Since I've been here, I've figured that out. I'm good at it, Dylan. I think I could sell my work in the galleries up here.”

“You're better than good. You're amazing.”

“Haley is running the business and doing a really great job. I'd still have an interest.”

“Do you really think you could be happy here?”

“As long as you loved me, I could be happy just sitting on the front porch looking out at the sea.”

He crushed her against him. “I love you, Lane. I've never loved anyone this way.” He drew back to look at her. “You wouldn't be lonely. We'd have plenty of guests staying at the lodge. Well, not in winter, but—”