Chapter5
After midnight, Christian leaned against the rough wood siding of the Kattuk family mercantile, arms crossed, boots set firm in the gravel.Across the narrow road, the sheriff’s office sat quiet under a mist that curled and lifted with the breeze, too thin to be rain, too thick to ignore.The silence had weight to it, like the town was holding its breath.
Tika sat to his side, the wolf-pup’s ears flattened in what looked like ease.He yawned wide, jaw splitting with the slow, lazy stretch of a creature comfortable in the night.Christian reached down and scratched behind one of those ears, fingers moving in the familiar rhythm.It grounded him more than he’d ever admit.
The door to the station creaked open.Ophelia Spilazi stepped out, gaze sweeping the street.She found him instantly and came down the stairs to cross the road on a pair of very fashionable boots.
Brock’s woman loved her boots.
Tall, all angles and confidence, with long black hair pulled back and eyes that saw more than most people wanted her to, Ophelia was a force.The scent hit him halfway across the street—strawberries.Not strong, but deliberate.Brock’s favorite.Of course.
Christian hadn’t expected his brother’s happiness to come wrapped in a city girl with a badge who looked like a model with a gun.But she’d shown up and stayed, and more than once she’d proved she belonged in a place like this.
“Hey,” she said, slipping her hands into the pockets of her black leather jacket.
“Hey.”
Another thing he liked about her—she didn’t press.Didn’t ask why he hadn’t walked into the station.Didn’t try to fix whatever she might see wrong in him.She let people be who they were.Just like Amka did.
“Brock’s sending the box, lighter fluid, and note to Anchorage along with the small bits of shrapnel from the device,” Ophelia said.“There’s an FBI agent there.We’ll see if we can get fingerprints.”
That was way too much of a longshot.“I’m not counting on it.”
“Neither am I.”She looked up at the station, jaw set.“But it’s arson, and Amka might be the target.”
Christian’s hand stilled on Tika’s head.His spine straightened, barely.“Maybe.”
Ophelia stretched up on her calves as if breaking in the boots.“I offered to drive her home after she gave her statement, but she insisted on driving herself.”
“I followed her home and made sure she got inside safely.”His voice was quiet now, the kind that came after a long time not talking.“Teller’s rig was in the driveway.”Although the asshat should’ve gone to the station with her and then driven her home.
“At least Jarod’s keeping an eye on her,” Ophelia said.“Who do you think would want to hurt Amka?”
Christian shook his head.“Absolutely nobody in the world.”
Ophelia nodded.“That’s my feeling as well.But somebody’s obviously taken an interest.We have to assume they waited until she was inside that building before igniting the explosion.”
“I took another look at it,” Christian said.“It was rigged so when the door opened, the flame lit.They couldn’t have known it’d be Amka.It’s shared with Friday’s Grocery—they keep overflow in there.”
“I know,” Ophelia said.“But the note was left outside the tavern.”
Irritation and heat flared up inside him, crawling under his skin and sharpening every nerve.“I know.But the grocery store had already closed for the day.”
Ophelia sighed and pushed a strand of hair out of her face, only for the wind to slap it right back.“The town’s been open for two weeks, and we’ve had tons of tourists coming through.Plus, a lot of the mountain people have been down.We need to get some security cameras in place.”
Christian winced.“The topic was brought up at the town meeting a few years ago and it was a shit show, or so I’ve heard.I was still in the Navy, halfway across the world at the time, but news gets around.People live here because they like their privacy.Nobody wants cameras.”
Ophelia shifted her stance.“I know, but come on.At some point the town has to join the modern times, at least a little.”
He shook his head, his jaw aching.He had to stop clenching it.“I hate the thought of cameras all around, but I would like to know if somebody is watching Amka or the Fridays.”
Ophelia looked up at him from under lowered lashes.“What’s your interest in her, Christian?Is there something?—”
“No.”He cut her off before she could expand the question.“We’re friends, and she’s in my town.Sometimes I drop by the bar and help out, and she always feeds me.That’s it.There’s nothing more.”
Ophelia arched a brow.“If you say so.”
“I do,” he said, firm and flat.
