A Night Without End. Susan Kearney

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they’d slid a gazillion feet and had almost gone over a cliff.

      Yeah, right. And Alaskan bears were tame.

      With their dark clothing against the white snow, they would make easy targets. She suddenly felt vulnerable on the mountainside. Where was the weapon she never let out of her sight?

      She glanced over her shoulder and scanned the cliff above but saw no sign of movement in the evergreen trees. “We should take cover.”

      Sean led her back toward the trail, staying clear of the dangerous areas and taking her onto a well-worn dirt path that curved gently across the terrain. “It’s possible someone was hunting deer or elk. Or just watching us through their scope and had no intention of firing.”

      She shook her head, discounting the possibility. “You didn’t think so at the time or you wouldn’t have hurled us off the mountain.” She hurried after him, noticing he hadn’t let the gap between them get as big as before. “How many people in town have guns with laser sights?”

      “You might as well ask how many people live in town. Everyone has guns. Or easy access to a weapon.”

      She dusted the snow off her shoulders, wincing at a sore spot. “I’m focusing my suspicions on Roger, Tyler and Marvin. They are the only ones I’m aware of who know I’m alive and where we’re heading. Did they have enough time to reach town and circle back?”

      “Tyler, and maybe Roger, could move that quickly. Marv is more comfortable at a poker table than in the woods.”

      So the brother and Tyler were her prime suspects—not that she was crossing Marvin off her list. “The first thing I need to do is—”

      “Rest. I want the doctor to look at that knot on your head.”

      “I’m fine,” she protested, briefly wondering if doctors here made house calls. “But the longer I wait to question the suspects, the easier it’ll be for them to forget details or make up lies.”

      “Maybe so. But I’m not traveling in the dark. So unless you plan to head into town alone…”

      “WHERE’S THE PHONE?” Carlie asked before she’d even removed her Arctic parka.

      No admiration for the cozy touches nearly foreign in the male-dominated Kesky. No appreciative comments over the homestead he’d worked an entire summer to build. He supposed he shouldn’t expect a woman to understand that while he’d cut western red cedar, notched logs and sanded the pine flooring, the mountain cabin had become as much a part of him as this glacier-fed wilderness paradise. His small diesel generator hummed, supplying all the electricity they needed. She had to point out the one convenience he couldn’t supply.

      “I don’t have a phone.”

      “What?” Her eyes widened, and unwilling to take his word, she stalked across the pine floor, ducked her head into the kitchen, paused, then marched into the bedroom to check for herself.

      He shrugged out of his coat and hung it on the hook on the back of the door. He hung up her coat, too. Alaska was no place for a woman. The harsh winters didn’t agree with them. Sure, a few tough gals lived in Kesky, but there could be no denying that the long winters took their toll.

      A memory of his mother, sick and shoveling snow, made him remember his promise to himself. He’d never ask a woman to stay with him. Especially not a woman accustomed to beaches and tropical heat.

      And now he’d gone and done just that. He’d lied to Carlie, telling her they were man and wife. At the time, his lie had seemed the right thing to do. But now…

      He considered telling her the truth.

      She cleared her throat loudly. “You expect me to stay here without a phone?”

      So much for telling the truth. She was already looking for excuses to leave and he’d be damned if he’d give her another one. He walked to the freezer, took out some ice, wrapped it in a towel and handed it to her. “Put this on that lump on your head and maybe the swelling will go down.”

      “Thanks.”

      She’d leave in a heartbeat if he didn’t give her a powerful reason to stay. Still, he hesitated. Jackson had brought him up better than to become a liar.

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