Alaskan Fantasy. Elle James
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pulse quickened. This Kat was like a mama bear ready to take on the world to protect her cub. The determined stance and the heightened color made her even more beautiful than the pictures he’d stared at on the wall of her home.
“Tell her, Sam,” Paul demanded.
He didn’t want to be dragged into their domestic dispute. “Tell her what?”
“Tell her it wasn’t my fault.” Paul waved him forward. “Tell her why I crashed.”
For some reason he couldn’t fathom, he didn’t want to get into the details of the accident. He resisted becoming another case to Kat. She was here on vacation, not to play investigative agent for a little prerace sabotage. Besides, Sam was fully qualified and capable of conducting his own investigation.
Kat’s gaze pinned him, her eyes narrowing to slits. “Yes, please. Tell me why my brother crashed.”
The direct look caught him off guard and he replied without hesitation. “The stanchions had been cut.”
Her surprised gasp turned into an angry frown. “What did you say?”
In a flat tone, devoid of emotion, he explained, “The struts holding the runners to the brushbow were cut at the base. It took a couple jolts and a sharp curve before they broke completely.”
Paul crossed his arms over his chest and smiled. “I just happened to be on it at the time. So you see, it wasn’t my fault.”
Kat stared from Paul to Sam. “Who would do such a thing?”
Sam raised his hands. “I didn’t. It was actually my sled that was cut. Paul was trying it out at the time.”
“You’re telling me this was deliberate?” The intensity of her gaze held his steady.
Sam nodded, his gut clenching at the memory of Paul lying unconscious at the bottom of the riverbank.
“Who would do such a thing?” she repeated with more righteous indignation, her blue eyes blazing.
“Looks like we’re having a party in here,” the doctor said from the open doorway. “Mind if I speak to the patient in private?”
“No, of course not,” Kat said, yet she made no move to leave. As Sam passed her, she grabbed his arm. “We’re not through talking about this.”
That jolt struck him again. “Count on it.” Sam stepped out into the hallway, shaking his arm as if he could shake free of the feeling of Kat’s fingers touching him so easily.
“So, Sam, who’s got it in for you?” Tazer joined him in the hospital corridor, closing the door behind her.
“Any number of people. I’m a geologist working oil exploration in the interior. People will either love what I’m doing, or hate it. No one straddles the fence.”
Her eyes widened. “Oil and drilling are definitely hot topics with our current dependency on Middle Eastern sources.”
“Between the environmentalists wanting me out and an Alaskan senator demanding that I give him the answer he wants, I’m pulled in two different directions.”
“Either of which could have a motive to hurt you.”
“Not to mention, the race on Saturday.”
“Are there any competitors afraid you might win over them?” Tazer asked.
“I can’t imagine someone thinking I was any kind of competition.”
“You never know how the competitive mind works.”
“Whatever. Paul shouldn’t have been the one in the hospital. If I hadn’t loaned my sled to him, he’d be fine.”
She tapped a finger to her chin, her gaze running his length from head to toe. “And you would have been in the hospital or dead.”
Sam inhaled a deep breath and let it out. “Yeah. Which leads back to the question of who.”
“THE DOCTOR ONLY wanted to see me.” Paul glared at Kat.
“As your only family, I need to hear what he has to say.” Kat reached for his hand, refusing to take no for an answer.
The doctor’s expression was too serious to be good news. He slipped an X-ray film into the lighted board on the wall and pointed at a bone close to the ankle. “You have a fracture in the medial malleolus.” He turned to look at Paul, his face set in stern, no-nonsense lines. “You have a broken ankle.”
“So?” Paul’s face set in a stubborn frown. “Big deal. It’s just the ankle.”
“So—” the doctor glanced toward Kat briefly before leveling a hard stare at Paul “—you can’t run the Iditarod on that fracture.”
Paul’s hand squeezed Kat’s hard. “Are you sure? You’re not mistaken? Look at it again.” He pointed at the film.
“I’m certain. I recommend a cast and elevating your ankle for the next week to keep the swelling down. Six weeks in the cast ought to allow sufficient healing time.”
“Six weeks?” Paul shouted. “I don’t have two days to heal.”
Kat patted his hand. “I think you missed the part where the doctor said you’re not racing on Saturday.”
“Since there is minimal swelling, I’ll send the order up for the casting materials and have you fixed up in time to go home this afternoon.” The doctor made notes on the chart and then looked up. “I’m sorry, Paul. But you need to take care of that bone and let it heal.” On those parting words, the doctor left the room.
A long silence followed. Kat didn’t know what to say to make it better. Paul trained hard all year long just to be in the Iditarod. To be so close to the race and not go was a fate almost worse than death to her brother. Kat knew. She’d been in several of the races and gone through the rigorous training with the dogs. She could feel Paul’s disappointment like a palpable ache in her chest. “Look, Paul. There’s always next year.”
Paul’s frown was fierce. “The dogs deserve to be in the race this year.” He looked up into her face. “You know how much they love it.”
“I know, and I know how much you love it. But you can’t.”
“Damn.” For a long moment he stared at the wall. Then he grasped her hand, his face brightening. “I can’t do it, but you can.”
“No. Don’t even think about it.” She tried to pull her hand free. “What did that doctor give you for pain, anyway?”
“Only a little painkiller. I’m thinking straight, sis. You have to do it.”
“No. I’m here to rest and relax. Not to spend two weeks in the freezing cold.” Despite her protests, Kat felt a thrill of excitement flow through her veins. She hadn’t felt that kind of kick since before Marty died. And it felt good. But still…“No. I haven’t trained. The dogs won’t be used to me. It’s impossible.”
“If you don’t do it for me, do it for Sam. If someone is after him, he’ll need protection. That’s what you do, isn’t it?”
Her heart stopped when she thought of Sam, the man she’d heard so much about from her brother in every e-mail, letter and phone call. The man who’d found his way into the family while she was out gallivanting around the world playing secret agent. Still, Sam cared about Paul, and Kat couldn’t fault him for that.
But he made her nervous. With his sandy-blond hair, gray-green eyes and a voice so smooth and penetrating it affected the functionality of her kneecaps. She wasn’t sure she wanted to be anywhere near him. Marty had been dark and dangerous. Sam was everything Marty wasn’t. He looked like the boy next door on steroids. His rugged outdoor tan and muscles would be enough to make her heart leap if she weren’t still grieving for Marty. Okay, so the pain of