A Reason to Kill (Reason #2) (9 page)

Five

You have a bear on your ass

Max felt his anger spike as he stared at the shovel-crane that hauled his logs to transport trucks. This company, his family’s legacy, it was all on the line and he needed a plan to stop the threat. Running his hand over the rough bark of a tree, he tilted his head back and focused on the branches protruding thick and sturdy off the side. All his life, all he ever wanted was to be a lumberjack. The idea that it could end with the swipe of a pen and fifty thousand signatures hadn’t settled in—until that exact moment.

Kneeling near the river, he grabbed a handful of dirt and let it sift through his fingers as he watched, admiring the richness of the dark color. As he stood to leave, he heard birds take flight across the river, high up on the ridge, so he turned his eyes and watched as they ascended into the sky. Brushing his hands together, ready to head to his truck, the quiet of the mountain was broken when someone burst through the bushes on the ridge, screaming in terror. He watched, in startled disbelief, as Mia ran straight off the edge and plummeted into the river below.

Trying to reconcile what he’d just seen, Max jumped into action as Mia hit the water hard. Diving in fully clothed keeping his head up as he swam, his heart skipped a beat when she floated to the surface, drifting towards him quickly as the current carried her body face down. Shouting, “Mia,” as he launched himself at her body, Max turned her over and saw she was unconscious. Grabbing her under the arms Max swam back towards the bank, struggling against the current. When he reached the river’s edge, he stood, picked her water-laden body up, and moved her to the solid ground, placing her gently on the dirt.

“Mia?” Max shouted as he gently slapped her face, trying to rouse her, but she didn’t respond. He turned her on her side in the recovery position and then pounded her back five times to clear any water from her throat and lungs. Turning her on her back, he tilted her chin and then looked to see if her chest was moving. Pinching her nose, he opened her mouth and blew deep to inflate her lungs, twice. Then he moved to her chest and started compressions.

“Come on, Mia. Prove me wrong. Prove you aren’t a pain in the ass like I thought you would be.”

Moving back to her mouth, a mouth, he’d wanted to taste since the moment he’d laid eyes on her, he blew twice more. When her mouth moved against his, he pulled back and waited as she struggled to wake up. When she inhaled suddenly, and started coughing, Max jumped up, ran to his truck, pulled a blanket from his storage, and then ran back wrapping it around her as she expelled water onto the ground. He pulled her into his arms when she was done, and started rubbing her arms to warm her.

“I’ve got you, I’ve got you,” Max told her as she struggled to breathe, still coughing and wheezing her eyes pinched shut as she gasped for air.

“Max?” Mia whispered between coughs.

“Right here, Mia.”

“What’s going on?”

“You ran off the ridge and fell in the river. What the fuck were you thinkin’ runnin’ blind like that?”

“What?”

“Swear to God you are the clumsiest woman I’ve ever met.”

Jerking, she turned in his arms confused at first. Then slowly, her eyes focused and what she said next froze him in place.

“Oh, my God, Donald’s dead.”

“Say that again?”

“I found him on the path. There was blood, and his head, oh, God, his head,” she cried out throwing her hands over her face. Wondering what the fuck she was talking about he watched as she pulled her hands back suddenly, her face growing paler, her eyes wider with recognizable freight as she mumbled, “Someone was there, they chased me, that’s why I—Lucy, Frank, we have to get to them. We have to make sure they’re okay,” she shouted as she struggled to get up.

“You’re sure he’s dead?” Max asked, trying to ascertain if she was lucid or imagining things.

“Yes, we have to go. We have to check on Lucy and Frank, now.”

The panic in her eyes told him she believed what she saw and his heart rate picked up at the thought of someone chasing her off the mountain.

Nodding, he stood while holding her in his arms and carried her to his truck. When he’d placed her inside, he ran to his office and found another blanket and a pair of old sweats he kept in his locker. When he got back to his truck, he handed them to her and ordered, “Strip out of those wet clothes.” Not in the mind to be argued with, when she looked at her clothes and then looked at his sweats he snapped, “You either get out of those wet clothes or I’ll strip you myself and use my body to warm you up.”

Wide-eyed at what he’d said, she complied with his order and then pulled her koalified T-shirt over her head as he started his truck. It may be the end of September, but in Alaska, that meant a balmy forty degrees most days and the water temperature stayed near freezing. So he cranked up the heat and waited for her to change. He kept his eyes on Mia as she struggled out of her jeans and when she forgot to take off her shoes, he reached down, grabbed her feet, and pulled them off.

“Thanks,” she replied, but kept her eyes diverted. If she hadn’t just told him Zimmer was dead, he’d have enjoyed watching her fidget while she stripped.

Once she’d changed, he wrapped another blanket around her, put the truck in drive, and then made his way back down the logging road towards the bridge that would take them back across the river.

The impact of what had just happened hit him like a freight train—someone in his town just committed murder.

The faces of all the people he cared about ran in a loop through his mind. He wondered which one of them would be desperate enough to commit murder to save Trails End?

“I can’t believe he’s dead,” Mia mumbled as she wrapped the blanket tighter around her. “Who would do that?”

“Someone who hated him enough, I suppose.”

“But why?”

“I’d say they killed to protect the town,” Max replied, the images of friends still swirling in his mind.

“Who hated him enough?”

Everyone!

“None of them, all of them,” he answered truthfully.

“But they couldn’t know if he would succeed. We could have fought him, beat him, why kill him?”

“The only person who can answer that is the killer,” Max told her.

Mia nodded because it was that simple. The only person who could answer that was the killer.

While Max drove us back to Grizzly Pointe’s entrance, he pulled the handset from his CB radio and called the police. They instructed us to wait at the foot of the trail for the Chief of Police to arrive so we stayed in the truck to keep warm. Resting my head against the window, trying not to think about Donald’s bloody face, I lost that battle when I remembered the sound of someone chasing me through the forest. One minute I was shaking, tears clouding my vision, and the next I was in Max’s arms as he held on tight, my face buried in his wet chest.

“You’re still wet,” I told him as I hung on to his shirt.

“I’ll dry.”

“But you’ll get sick,” I explained.

“No, I won’t.”

Annoyed, because men always thought they were invincible, I pushed off his firm chest, looked up at him, and announced, "You may look like Thor, God of Thunder, but you're mortal. You can still catch hypothermia or—”

“I look like Thor?” Max chuckled.

“Are you listening to me?”

“Yeah, let’s get back to the part where I look like Thor.”

“Max, this is serious you need to get out of those clothes.”

“Mia, I am serious, why Thor?”

I rolled my eyes because it’s also just like a man to change the subject. So, I crossed my arms and raised my brows. How could he not see the resemblance? He’s huge like Thor, wields an axe like that thunder hammer thingy, and his hair is longish as well. Basically, he’s Thor in flannel.

“You really don’t know why?”

“No, enlighten me.”

“Fine, it’s stupid anyway. I’m sure it’s not lost on you that you’re big.” One of his brows shot up in question and I realized what I’d said. Mortified, I rushed on with “I mean, I mean, you’re brawny . . . and you swing an axe like he swings his hammer thingy.”

Max grinned at my explanation because, let’s face it, I’d just told him he was “big” for pity’s sake and something told me that wasn’t a lie.

“Good to know I swing my axe like a God.”

He so wasn’t talking about his axe . . .

“Whatever, you’re missing my point. What I’m trying to say is—”

“That you don’t want me to get sick,” he interrupted.

“Right . . . and you will if you don’t get out of those clothes.”

“What do you suggest I put on?”

“Well, leave me here and you can drive home. I’ll wait for the police while you change.”

“Nope, not gonna happen.”

“Why not?”

“I’m not leavin’ you here alone with a killer runnin’ loose.”

“Oh, right. Can you call your mother?”

“Are you always like a dog with a bone?”

“Are you calling me a dog?”

“I’m callin’ you tenacious. I’m fine, I’ll dry, I’m not leavin’ you here, and I’m not callin’ my mother.”

“Fine, be wet,” I groused.

“Christ,” Max chuckled.

“What?”

“I knew when I laid eyes on you you’d be a pain in my ass,” Max sighed.

Then, without warning, he yanked me closer if that was possible and his eyes dropped to my mouth.

“What are you doing,” I whispered, completely ignoring the fact he’d just insulted me.

“Tryin’ to decide if you’re worth the headache you’re undoubtedly gonna cause me.”

Oh, God, I’m not ready to be kissed by this man. I’m not sure I’ll ever be ready.

I panicked at the thought of his mouth on mine and spit out “Nope, not worth the headache. Ask any man who knows me . . . I’m like a
disease
.”

Okay, that wasn’t what I meant to say, but it had the desired effect—he let go of me.

Then, embarrassingly enough, he threw his head back and laughed thus proving once and for all I’m lousy with men. In fact, I should give up on love all together and adopt twelve cats I’m so l
o
usy with men.

Feeling like a fool, I needed out of the truck to clear my head. Or, even better, find the killer and have him put me out of my misery. But, more than anything, I wanted to check on my friends and make sure they were still alive, so I blurted out "Please, can we check on Lucy and Frank?"

Max knew she’d be a pain in his ass. Knew it the moment he laid eyes on her. He especially knew it when she sang in that voice of hers, keeping him glued to his stool. He further knew it when she stripped in front of him showing him all the gifts God gave her. And he sure as hell knew it when she fell off that fuckin' ridge, the sight of her lifeless body causing his heart to skip a beat. Now, as they climbed up the path, watching her fight his baggy sweat pants he was convinced more than ever. They should have stayed in the truck and waited, but they hadn’t. She blurted out she wanted to check on her friends when he was about to kiss her and his subsequent, “No,” had been met with a trembling lip. Her eyes, bright with tears, had disarmed him as nothing had before. Unable to resist, he’d clenched his jaw and swore, “Fuck,” as he disobeyed the police.