Ursa Major

Pink Petal Books

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Additional Titles by the Author

Good Medicine

Juli’s Choice

The Purrfect Man

Ghost Touch

Ghost Redeemed

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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, places, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

URSA MAJOR

ISBN# 978-0-9819516-9-0

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

Copyright © MARY WINTER, 2009

Cover Art ® 2009 by VALERIE TIBBS

Edited by JENNIFER LAWRENCE

Electronic Publication Date: JANUARY 2009

This book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Jupiter Gardens Press,
Jupiter
Gardens
, LLC.,
PO Box
191
, Grimes, IA 50111

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Ursa Major

Mary Winter

PPB

Sitting in the seat of the commuter plane, listening to the tinny vibration of metal, the whoosh of air currents buffeting the tiny craft, Sarah Doyle forced herself to uncurl her fingers from around the armrest and breathe deeply. After flying across the lower forty-eight states, then so far north that the sun never set this time of year, she expected she’d be less fearful of flying. Maybe the isolation was getting to her? Looking out the window over the Alaskan landscape, Sarah saw nothing except an occasional cabin and small settlements undeservedly called towns.

“We’re almost there,” the pilot called over the intercom. The twenty-six seat plane was barely half full. She had the row to herself. The rest of the passengers were all avid fishermen and their excitement built as they neared their destination of
Deadhorse
,
Alaska
. They spoke of salmon runs of years past, of fishing in
Yellowstone
, of the catch they hoped to land this year.

Sarah managed a smile at the sole flight attendant. She’d seen the pilot as she’d boarded, an older man who had flown this route since he was in his twenties. His graying hair and full beard marked him as several decades older than that, and his easy smile should have put Sarah at ease. Yet, the more she looked out the window, the more she saw this starkly beautiful landscape, and the more she feared what she had to do. Hodges & Associates sent her out here on a mission. She couldn’t let her spiritual or her environmental beliefs get in the way. No matter if DC politics sickened her on the best of days, and made her wish she were far, far away on the worst.

The plane began a steep descent, cutting off her thoughts. Sarah swallowed hard, her fingers once more gripping the armrest as the plane bumped and jolted its way down to the strip of runway outside of Deadhorse. Sarah closed her eyes and tried to block out the images of bloated, dead carcasses the town’s name invoked. A slight bump announced the plane’s touchdown, and she breathed a sigh of relief. On firm ground once again.

She used the moments while the plane taxied to the terminal to calm her racing heart and wrap her political shell around her. She was here on a fact finding mission. Once she met up with Liam from Round the Bend EcoTours, she’d see the
Brooks Range
and what the oil pipeline was doing, or not doing, to the environment. Once that was done, she’d return to her cushy apartment in
Washington
D.C.
, where the wildest thing she had to deal with was the non-stop city traffic, and write her report. Fair and unbiased. She could do this. She had to do this.

The plane stopped and the pilot thanked them for flying with him, as if any of them really had a choice. She fished her sunglasses out of her carry-on and put them on before disembarking to gather her luggage. Just a small suitcase and camping supplies, but she had no doubt they’d be enough to carry into the terminal. She scanned the area, but didn’t see anyone who looked like her contact.
I don’t know why you’re worrying about this. Just write your report and come back. It’s not that big of a deal.
Her fiancé’s words haunted her as she slung her backpacking frame over her shoulders and pulled out the handle on her rolling suitcase. Sarah curled her lip in disgust. Walt Beamer hadn’t been beyond the city limits a day in his life and didn’t understand what it meant to be out here. He didn’t understand what her work meant to her. She drew in a breath of fresh, clean air, available even here at the airport, and smiled.

Just inside the terminal, Sarah removed her sunglasses and blinked at the sudden change in lighting. The small building housed worn chairs that looked left over from the ’70s and a few vending machines.

A man leaned against the wall next to the coffee machine. Thick hair the color of polished mahogany hung in soft waves nearly to his collar. He towered over most of the men—other than her, there were no women—in the terminal. Dressed in a long-sleeved black turtleneck that stretched across his broad chest, worn blue jeans, and heavy hiking boots, he radiated masculinity. Just looking at him made her throat dry and her pulse leap. She’d be in the backwoods of
Alaska
with him. Her body hummed at the prospect, and she struggled to keep her fiancé’s image foremost in her mind, though compared to this woodsman, a slick city lawyer had no chance.

Guilt assailed her. Just because she and Walt were having problems didn’t mean she should act impulsively. She could be professional. After all, she’d come out here to write her report on the impact of drilling on the environment. An impartial report, as her boss had reminded her time and time again with an implied “wink and nod.” She knew exactly what her boss expected to read. First, she’d gather the facts. Then, she’d write the report they required.

The man straightened. He gave her a long perusal, his shuttered gaze not giving anything away. His attention lingered on the thrust of her breasts against the faded oversized
University of Mary
Washington
sweatshirt she wore, then down the length of her legs. He gave a slight nod at her hiking boots, as if she wasn’t completely without common sense, then with the leisurely stride of a man completely in control of his environment, he walked toward her. A hint of a smile crossed his chiseled lips as he neared.

“Sarah Doyle?” He held out a large hand.

She released the handle of her small suitcase and clasped it. His handshake was firm, but not overly so. Where his fingers touched hers, tingles shot up her arm. “You’re Liam?” She released his fingers.

He nodded. “Let me help you with that.”

“Thanks.” Sarah slid her backpacking frame from her shoulders, deciding there wasn’t any harm in letting him carry it to the vehicle. She’d carry it often enough if her plans to live out in the field bore fruit. “I appreciate that.” She grabbed the handle of her suitcase.

“The truck’s this way.” Without waiting for her, he easily lifted her gear, the muscles in his biceps bulging. Sarah tried not to notice, just as she tried to ignore the way his jeans clung to his rear. She had an engagement ring tucked in her dresser back home. She shouldn’t be looking at him this way. Damn Walt and his angry words. She sighed, knowing she’d have to make a decision one way or the other about his proposal. And right now, the fact that she’d taken off the ring and put it in her jewelry box spoke volumes.

She followed him to the truck, where he opened the door and helped her inside. Moments later, they were on their way.

Not one to chatter, Sarah watched as the scenery changed from the homes and small businesses designed to cater to the oil workers, to the sparse landscape. On the horizon, she thought she saw an elk, though the thought of wildlife so close to town seemed foreign to her. She’d read there were bears here. Both black bears and grizzlies, and a shudder wound its way down her spine at the thought of meeting them in the woods.

“Cold?” Liam asked. His voice sounded like Swiss chocolate. Just the sound of it chased the chill from her and filled her with liquid heat. Damn it, why was she so hot for this guy?

“I’m fine. Just a shock from the weather in DC,” she answered.

“I’ll bet. The lower 48 has nothing on us.” His smile flashed white teeth against his tanned skin. “The lodge is just about five miles from town. We’ll be there shortly.” He turned onto a gravel road, maneuvering the large quad-cab truck easily between ruts and larger rocks. True to his word, he pulled up in front of the lodge before much longer.

The two story building, built from stone and logs, rose from a flat plain around it. Liam pressed the garage door opener on the sun visor, and the door opened to reveal room for three cars, though one of the bays held an ATV and a snowmobile. A red jeep sat in the other parking spot. He pulled the truck in and stopped. Just as before, he held the door open for her and grabbed her backpack frame before she could protest, then led her into the building.

An open floor plan showcased a large living area with a fireplace and a kitchen with a spacious dining area. A short hall led to closed doors, and a wooden staircase led to the upstairs rooms. A balcony overlooked the living room with its large windows that looked out onto the Alaskan wilderness. Everything was polished wood with bronze trim, the leather couches and heavy bookshelves giving the place a masculine air. Sarah suddenly felt very small and very feminine.

“Let me give you the nickel tour.” He pointed down the hall, showing her the master bath, the closed door to his study. Upstairs, there appeared to be six bedrooms, with a couple more bathrooms. He showed her to a room close to the stairs decorated in a North Woods theme. “Don’t get too comfy. We’ll head out early tomorrow morning. I’ll be back in a couple of hours to take you downstairs for dinner. I’ve got some work to do.” From downstairs, male voices rumbled, and he listened to them for a charged moment before hurrying downstairs.

No sooner had he left than her cell phone rang. Sarah answered it.

“I trust you made it all right,” Ken’s voice crackled across the connection.

“Just got here. Everything okay?” She’d been given her instructions. She hadn’t expected her boss to call so soon.

“Yeah, fine.” Ken’s voice shook. Sarah knew he lied. Something was going on. First this mission, her employer’s insistence that she not sway her report one way or other, when Ken knew the kind of work she did. In fact, he’d told her repeatedly that was why she was picked for this project. “Let me know as soon as you start on the report, all right?”

“I will. Don’t worry, Ken. You can count on me.”

“Good.” Muffled sounds of a hushed conversation filtered through the phone line. “I got to go.” The line went dead.

Sarah stared at her silent phone for a moment. It rang again.

“Don’t worry, Ken,” she said as she lifted the phone to her ear. “I have it covered.”

“Well I’m glad to hear that,” Walt’s voice sounded. “You made it all right?”

“Just got here.” She sat down on the bed, the comforter soft beneath her.

“So how soon can you wrap up your work and come back? I have an important function in two weeks. I’d like you to be there.”

Sarah rolled her eyes. They’d discussed this. “I have an open ended assignment, Walt. I’ll be here as long as it takes to get the job done.”

He guffawed. “Go out, take a look around and write your report. You’ll be home in a week.”

Sarah shook her head, feeling displeasure pull the corners of her mouth down. He didn’t understand. “I take my work seriously, Walt. I’ll be here as long as it takes.” From downstairs, she heard rustling. She needed to find out more about her host. Interviewing him would be the perfect place to start gathering information. “Good bye.” She disconnected the call. Later, she’d deal with Walt and decide just what she was going to do about him.

~* * *~

Liam sank into the leather executive chair behind his desk and pinched the bridge of his nose. When he agreed to show Sarah around the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge, it mostly was at the behest of people he couldn’t refuse. His father had just left to meet with them, no doubt to tell them that his son would be more than happy to follow their urging. Sanctimonious bastards. They stay in their hiding, giving out orders. They didn’t know how it really was. A memory of being trapped in a four-by-four Russian cell filled his mind, and for a moment, his breath stuck in his lungs. He was there, body trembling, weak from hunger and exhaustion, waiting for his tormentors to come and beat him again. He shook his head, and as quickly as it had come, the horrible memories receded.

His brother’s heavy footsteps sounded outside the room. Liam reminded himself he was back home in
Alaska
, not trapped in a Russian holding facility. Cameron had been there too, presumably in the cell next to his, and yet, his younger twin showed no signs of the haunted dreams. He simply did what he had to do. And they had both escaped.

“Hey bro, looks like you got yourself a live one,” Cameron said. Without asking he sank into one of the two chairs sitting in front of the desk and scanned the walls filled with pictures of their adventures across the globe. Some for fun. Some at the urging of the organization to which his father answered.

Liam sighed. His younger brother acted the playboy, and lived it, too, from his sun-streaked brown hair the same shade as his own, to the board shorts he wore in spite of the highs that wouldn’t quite reach sixty degrees. “I want you to lay low for a while. There’s no need in you getting caught up in this craziness. I’ll take her out, show her what she wants to see. Hopefully she’ll be back in DC before long.” He reached for a topographical map and unfolded it on the nearly bare desk. One end leaned against his computer. He used a Ducks Unlimited mug to hold the other end down.

Cameron leaned over the map. “Any idea where you’ll take her?” He wagged his eyebrows at his own double entendre.

Used to his brother, Liam tried to ignore Cameron. “I thought we’d head towards the
Brooks Range
.” He traced a route leading well away from the oil fields. “Spend a few days out there. Let her see how wild and untamed it really is out here. Then hopefully she’ll do the right thing.”

“Write the report telling them not to drill.” Cameron barked mocking laughter. “She’s from DC. She works for politicians. Even if she does the right thing, do you think that they’ll follow her recommendation?”

“They better. It’s what the Quintursa wants done.”