“Have you ever been up the Yukon River?” Miss Wetherby asked. Her voice was soft and calm, and something about it reminded him that he couldn’t lunge forward and wrap his hands around Richard Caldwell’s neck—no matter how badly the other man deserved it. “Have you met any Athabaskans?”
“Yes.” Mikhail didn’t take his eyes off Richard as he answered. “My family was exploring that region of Alaska for trade when Richard was living there. It was where we first met. In fact, there’s one person we both knew back then. Her name still stands out to me. Sadzi.”
Most men wouldn’t be able to help looking at least a little guilty, or sucking in a deep breath, or doing something to indicate the mention of the name from a decade ago affected them.
But not Richard Caldwell. He stood there completely unaffected, with a smug smile on his face.
It made Mikhail hope with a renewed sort of fury that Miss Wetherby didn’t marry the man. That no woman ever married him.
“Get the fire started,” he ordered through clenched teeth, setting the wood down in front of him. “I’m going to hunt some rabbits.”
8
Sitka, Alaska
Alexei Amos paced from one end of his office to the other. He was half tempted to look out the large windows facing the harbor to see if he could glimpse where his ship, theAurora,was anchored, and half tempted to hurl one of the wooden chairs toward the window itself.
It was the third time one of his ships had been searched since Simon Caldwell became governor of Alaska in September.
Alexei’s fists clenched at his sides, his nails biting into his palms as he forced himself not to touch the extra wooden chair sitting against the wall. Breaking a window wouldn’t solve anything, and neither would staring at theAurorawhile the Revenue Cutter Service workers tore through every last inch of the ship.
He whirled on his heel and stalked to his desk at the back of the room. The search would take hours, and he wasn’t going to be able to rush it by pacing across the office. The time would be best used trying to get some work done.
He yanked out his chair but stopped himself from sitting down as he stared at the pile of paperwork from theHalcyon—the ship Simon Caldwell had ordered to be searched four weeks ago. There was the manifest and shipping log along with the import and export permits. Everything was meticulously recorded and in perfect order, yet somehow, despite the detailed records, Alaska’s new governor had still ordered the Revenue Cutter Service to search the ship.
Alexei picked up the manifest, scanning the neat columns that recorded the tea and textiles theHalcyonhad carried from China.
He could understand the RCS occasionally searching a ship after an international shipping run like the one theHalcyonhad returned from. After all, tariffs needed to be enforced and paperwork maintained to track imports and exports.
But theAurorawas carrying textiles, dry goods, and tools from Seattle—common cargo that hadn’t crossed international borders. There was nothing illegal or suspicious about the run. And yet the ship would be held up for hours—possibly even days—while RCS workers pawed through every barrel, crate, and sack on board.
Even worse, the RCS would hold the manifest and the shipping log for a week or better, going over every last detail themselves before finally returning them.
When they did return the ledgers, it would be long after theAuroraleft on its next voyage, which meant Alexei wouldn’t be able to check the actual cargo against the log to make sure everything matched and he wasn’t undercharging a company for extra cargo that might have been slipped aboard at the last minute.
Three times. He ran a hand through his hair, tugging at the strands as if the motion could somehow relieve the pressure building in his head. Three separate searches, and for what? A political grudge? Petty revenge?
The ground-floor door to the office banged open, and boots pounded against the stairs. Sacha. He could tell by the heavy sound of the footsteps.
A moment later his younger brother appeared in front of the giant windows at the front of the office, his burly chest and broad shoulders impossible to ignore. “Are they searching another ship?”
Alexei’s fingers tightened around the manifest he still held. “What do you think?”
Sacha let out a sharp breath. “That’s three ships so far! What’s Caldwell trying to prove?”
“Which one? Preston or his brother, the governor?” He set the manifest on his desk. “I don’t suppose it matters, does it? They’re both trying to prove they can do whatever they want to us—and they can.”
Sacha whirled and crossed to the window, his form so broad it blocked half the harbor from view. “What do we do?”
If only he knew.
The door opened again, and this time lighter, quicker footsteps scrambled up the stairs. A moment later, Yuri appeared, his cheeks flushed from the cold and his dark hair ruffled from the November wind.
“Alexei! There you are! They’re searching theAurora!”
“I know.”
“Then why aren’t you down at the wharf?” Yuri threw up his hands.
