in the car.”
Ever alert to her surroundings, she opened the back door to the red SUV, hoisted Sammy and Dexter inside and quickly slammed the door. Car seats could wait.
More jittery than she wanted to be, she bolted around to the driver’s side and hopped in. Her fingers trembled as she jabbed the key into the ignition, turned the switch and popped the locks. She leaned her head back against the seat and sighed but didn’t close her eyes.
If someone was still in the house, she needed to know. If not for the boys, she would have searched the rooms herself and beaned the rats who’d invaded her safe and happy home.
But she had the boys to think about, and they came first—always.
As if he’d read her mind, Dexter leaned through the console. A tear trickled down his cheek. “I want Daddy.”
Sammy heard the tremor in his big brother’s voice. His small head poked through the space, too. Tears streamed down his round, baby face. “I want Daddy, too. Where’s Daddy?”
Both began to cry.
The words were a spear through Amy’s heart. She wanted Ben, too. Even after nearly a year, she still expected him to walk in the door any moment, eyes dancing, face rosy from the outdoor work he loved. But Ben, her love, her best friend, her partner in Alaska’s Treasures tour company, would never be here again to protect and comfort his sons. Or her.
The now-familiar heaviness pressed down on her chest. Life was not fair sometimes. She was strongly tempted to cry with her sons, but after Ben’s death on the Wild Rapids Tour, she’d cried the Yukon River full of tears. Being strong for her boys and her floundering town were the things that mattered now. She had a job to do, people depending on her, and she would not fail them. Ben would have expected no less.
“Don’t cry, Dex.” She stroked her eldest’s dark hair, so different from her own. “Come on. Crawl up here beside Mama while we wait for Chief Reed.”
Dexter sniffed. “Is he coming? I mean, right now?”
“Any minute, baby.”
Both her sons were more their father than her, which was fine with Amy, although looking into their faces was like looking at miniature versions of Ben. Dexter even bore Ben’s chin cleft. The reminder was both pain and pleasure. She’d loved Ben James with everything in her. And he’d loved her the same way.
They’d been building a good life here in Treasure Creek, Alaska, where they had both grown up. The Alaska’s Treasures tour company had been their dream, a dream that had cost Ben his life. But she never blamed the business or the lifestyle. Danger, like beauty, was part of life and work in rugged Alaska.
Without the revenue from the tour company and the business it generated for the hotels, eateries and other enterprises, the little town of Treasure Creek could become another forgotten ghost town.
A siren ripped the cold, crisp air, and Amy found the sound as sweet as a Christmas carol. After another quick glance at the house, she turned to watch the rotating lights of Reed’s four-wheel drive. His ever-present dog, Cy, sat in the passenger seat, mouth open in a smile.
Dexter stopped crying and moved to a side window. Sammy followed his big brother, dragging the stuffed puppy along at his side. Cy was a particular favorite of her two sons. The one-eyed malamute was usually more personable than his master.
Some of the tension left Amy’s shoulders. Reed was here.
The tough, sinewy chief of police had been Ben’s best friend. Regardless of that awkward, humiliating marriage proposal, Reed was a loyal friend and a great cop. Whoever had broken into her house had just made a fearsome enemy.
Reed Truscott slammed the vehicle into Park and bolted out the door before the truck stopped rocking. In more than a dozen years on the job, he’d never seen this much trouble in Treasure Creek.
“Mack Tanner and his treasure,” he grumbled. People had been traipsing up on Chilkoot Trail for years, searching for the treasure Amy’s great-great-grandfather had buried there during the Gold Rush of 1889. Why did the thing have to be found in his lifetime? And why did Amy have to be in the line of fire?
It was that crazy magazine interview Amy had done. That’s what started all the trouble.
His boots crunched on last night’s new snow as he stalked toward Amy’s Jeep. Part of him expected Miss Iron Woman to still be inside the house. When he told her to get out, he’d intended for her to leave, to get completely away from the crime scene and any hint of danger. But Amy did things her way, so he was relieved to spot her and her little ones safely inside the red vehicle.
How was he supposed to take care of Ben’s family when Amy was so uncooperative?
With her usual, vibrant energy, she hopped out of the car and came to meet him.
An invisible fist clutched his insides. Looking at Amy seemed to do that to him lately.
Stress, he supposed. Or responsibility. The problem had started after Ben insisted Reed take care of Amy and the boys if anything should happen to him. Reed had tried to laugh off the request, but when Ben pressed, he’d agreed. It was almost as if Ben knew he wouldn’t be around to care for his loved ones. And Reed Truscott was a man of his word. He was honor-bound to look after Amy James. To his way of thinking, that honor was exactly why she should marry him.
But he probably shouldn’t mention that to Amy today. She looked in no mood for another marriage proposal. He’d bungled the first time badly enough, though he was still trying to figure out where he went wrong.
Hands shoved into the pockets of her open parka, Amy strode toward him in jeans and a yellow-green sweater that turned her hair to copper fire. The cold, fading sunlight caught in the shoulder-length waves and shot sparks in every direction. She had glorious hair, the kind a man wanted to touch.
Reed’s gut clenched again. He didn’t like thinking of Ben’s wife as pretty, but she was. Amy had been in his head and heart for a long time, first as a friend, but after Ben’s death—well, things changed. And the feelings rolling around inside him were downright uncomfortable.
“You and the boys okay?” He barked the question, more worried about the town’s main citizen than he wanted to show.
Amy nodded, pretending calm, but he’d heard the quiver in her voice on the phone. He was still angry about that. Any scuzzball who upset Amy was going to answer to him.
“Whoever broke in wasn’t after us.”
“This isn’t the first time, Amy. Somebody will do anything to get their hands on that treasure of yours.”
“I know.” Her reply was quiet and reflective as she gazed off toward the mountains to the west. He knew she was remembering the day they’d finally found Mack Tanner’s buried treasure chest. A pair of gun-toting thieves had found it at the same time.
He’d nearly had a heart attack when one of the thugs shoved a pistol against Amy’s temple. If not for Tucker Lawson’s help Amy could have been killed. That moment haunted his dreams.
Since this frenzy over buried treasure began he’d not had a moment of peace. Even though the heavy metal
