want any more needles.”
Jeffrey heard a short silence, and then a distinctive sound: Edmund snorting. “You are her king, sire, and your will is Alaska’s will. Her wishes have no bearing on the situation.”
“Great, Edmund. Spoken like a true Nazi.”
“I live to serve, Majesty.”
Chapter 2
Nicole Krenski, bastard princess of Alaska, daughter of a bartender and a king, counted to ten.
“Hey, I almost got that one,” her client chirped, yanking on his fishing rod with all his might.
“That’d be great, Jim, if we were fishing for pine trees. Give that to me.” Before I stick it up your ass. With a few practiced tugs, the Daredevil lure freed itself from the tree and plopped into the water. Nicole slowly started reeling it in, and felt a nibble. “Okay, you got a bite. Now remember what I told you.” Twenty-five times. “Carefully set the hook and—”
He snatched the rod from her hands and gave a mighty yank, which only ripped the lure out of the fish’s mouth.
“Hey, I think I’m getting the hang of this!”
Nicole scowled at the short (her height) balding stockbroker on vacation from New York City. “Jimmy?”
“Yeah, babe?”
“Do not call me babe. And if you ever take a fishing rod away from me without my permission, you’ll be shitting five-pound test line for three days.”
Jimmy gulped and managed a smile. Nicole knew full well that clients hit on her when they got a look at her tits and eyes and whatnot, and gave up when she proved she had nothing in her veins but river water. At least as far as her customers were concerned, she’d sooner lay a grizzly than someone who paid her bills.
Jimmy sketched a mock salute. “You got it, boss lady. Ready to try again?”
“Sure.” One. Two. Three. Four. Five. “Nice and easy. Use your wrist, not your arm.” Six. Seven. Eight. “Release the bale. And—you’ve caught another tree.”
Meekly, Jimmy handed back his rod. “Could you get that out of the branch for me, please?”
“My pleasure,” she groaned. Oh God, please save me from tourists. Especially big city tourists.
“Maybe we should try a different spot.”
“Maybe I should try a different client.”
“That’s cold, babe. I guess we really are in Alaska.”
“You don’t know what cold is. And don’t call me babe.”
Chapter 3
Exhausted—more from Jimmy’s refusal to learn anything other than any real physical exertion—Nicole dropped him off at the Juneau branch of the Outer Banks Co. office and drove to her trailer, faking a cheerful wave as she sped off in her pickup. At least this one hadn’t tried to grab her boobs when she bent over to tie on a sinker. And when did that guy get out of the hospital? Her boss had told her but she’d forgotten.
As always, her spirits lifted at the sight of the neat brown and cream mobile home at the far edge of the Juneau town limits. It was small, but she didn’t need much space, and the large shed held all her hunting and fishing equipment.
Best of all, the trailer backed up to 500 acres of wilderness. She’d had deer, possums, raccoons, snakes, rabbits, bears, and moose in her yard. Sparrows, woodpeckers, blue jays, hummingbirds, chickadees, plovers, and terns visited the dozen birdfeeders she kept full. And occasionally, Great Gray Owls swooped down and helped themselves to a plover or chickadee. Ah, well. Nature red in tooth and claw and all that.
Once a gut-shot deer had staggered into the yard and she’d put the poor thing out of its agony with a quick shot to the head with one of her rifles. The doe had never had a chance; it had been trailing viscera through her yard. She’d then called the game warden; when he showed up, he’d offered her the venison. She had declined, having a freezer full of wild game. She hoped the idiot who hadn’t bothered to track his kill would contract malaria in the near future.
Nicole carefully put her equipment away, locked the shed, then went through her front door. The place was immaculate, as usual, and sparsely furnished, as she liked it. Perfect order, perfect solitude. Her CDs and books were alphabetized; all the cans and boxes in the pantry were lined up. If only her mother had—
But her mother’s death was too recent and raw, and she shoved the thought away, hard. Her mother had left her enough money to buy the trailer new, for cash, and not much else. Oh, and her mother had also left her a favor. A last wish, as it were.
Her answering machine was blinking. She knew it wasn’t the office; they didn’t guide at night. She knew it wasn’t her dead mother. She had no friends, only acquaintances, and hadn’t been laid since her mother had gotten sick. Therefore . . .
Dammit.
She stabbed the Play button and heard a cultured, cool voice say, “Miss Krenski, my name is Edmund Dante and I am calling from the Sitka Palace regarding a letter you sent King Alexander. His Majesty the king requires an audience with you at once, as well as an examination by the royal physician. Please call me at 907-263-9331 at your earliest convenience. Thank you.” Click.
Nicole chewed her lip and thought about it. And thought about it some more.
And then she erased the message.
Chapter 4
Nicole erased the new message the next day. And the next.
And the next.
Chapter 5
Nicole dropped her client, a perfectly pleasant family practitioner named Sandra Dee, of all things, at the Outer Banks Co. and pocketed the generous tip.
Sandra Dee, also from New York City, had caught on at once and spent the afternoon kicking ass and filling the live well. The small redhead nearly staggered under the weight of the fish on her stringer. Nicole unhitched the boat trailer, mentally promising her boss she’d come back first thing in the morning and hose it down.
Nicole couldn’t help but laugh as her giddy client bounded up the steps to the office with one final wave over her shoulder. These were the best days for her: showing someone a skill they had not known they possessed. Showing a stranger the utter and mystifying beauty of the Alaskan wilderness and recognizing the look on their face, the awe of someone at a stirring church service.
She swung by Chicken Lickin’ for a three-piece meal, hold the biscuits, extra gravy. Mmm . . . gravy. She’d drink it by the glass if she could. The thought made her grin.
Her smile faded as she saw the long black car parked in her driveway and the two men loitering on her front lawn. She didn’t slow and didn’t look in that direction again. She stared straight ahead—nope, nothing wrong here, and I certainly don’t live there, which is why I’m not looking at
