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“What did you do?”
“I’m here, aren’t I?”
“Yes, thank goodness for that! That job was never any good for you.”
Lila’s casual dismissal of the job that had consumed Molly’s life for the past three years made her see red for a moment. And then it hit her…Was it possible that Lila had known she’d have to leave her job, and that she didn’t mind that? “Did you…you didn’t…you knew…”
A hand came onto her back, somehow grounding and warning at the same time. Just as quickly, it fell away, as if its owner had remembered they weren’t actually together, and touching her might be out of line.
Molly drew in a long breath. She and Lila had some conversing to do, but not here in front of everyone. “We can talk about everything later.” She lifted her tankard of Guinness. “Cheers,” she said through a tight smile. “Here’s to Firelight Ridge.”
“To Firelight Ridge,” said Sam, joining in and tipping his glass against hers. “Welcome to the wild side.”
9
Sam would have loved to hang around and learn more about the fascinating Molly and her relationship with definitely-not-her-real-name Bessie. But a gesture from the corner of The Fang had caught his attention. He needed to touch base with his handler, who was slouched against the wall, wearing a stained leather cowboy hat and the general appearance of a drunken lout.
He downed his glass of Bear’s special brew and slid off the stool. “Bathroom break. I’ll let you two old friends catch up on things.” Like newly assumed names, for instance. Definitely intriguing, but not his business. One investigation at a time.
He headed for the toilet at the back of The Fang, giving his contact a nearly invisible nod as he passed. Next to the bathroom was a back door, which he pushed open as soundlessly as possible. The brilliant night air slapped him in the face the way it did in the mountains, so icy clear and cold and pure that it could sting your lungs. It had dropped another ten degrees since he’d parked the Skyhawk, and the wind whined in the tall trees. Storm a-coming.
A moment later the man in the cowboy hat—Agent Euston—joined him. He pulled out a packet of cigarette papers and rolled himself a smoke. “Updates?”
“Possible invite to the property. If it works out I should have something more soon.”
“That’s it? A possible?”
“Better than an impossible.”
“Smart ass. Why is this so fucking slow? They want me back in the Bureau next week. I came out here for one last look-around and to say goodbye. You’ll be on your own until they send someone else to Blackbear. I hear they have a hardass in mind.”
Sam didn’t like the sound of that. Even though his low-key handler hadn’t done much for him so far, it was reassuring to know he was nearby in case of a crisis. “We’re dealing with a family here. The bond is incredibly strong, even more so than with most families. It’s them against the world. And the world is pretty harsh when you’re talking about winter in the Wrangells.”
“I know, I know. Shit. You’ve gotten further than anyone else we’ve sent out. At least you’re still alive.”
“So far, but let’s not jinx it.”
Although the details were unclear, the last person the FBI had sent to attempt to infiltrate the Chilkoot clan had wound up frozen to death in an abandoned trapper’s cabin. It had been ruled an accident. That kind of thing happened out here. People told the story of Ben Sadler, who had gone outside one subzero night to take a piss after downing a fifth of scotch, then fallen asleep on his feet. A snowstorm had swept through that night, and they hadn’t found him until spring.
But no one at the FBI thought the agent’s death was just an accident. If so, that meant the Chilkoots knew they were potentially under surveillance. That was why they’d approached Sam. He’d already been running flights into Firelight Ridge, but he’d been living in Blackbear. His first step had been to move to Firelight Ridge and establish a reputation as someone who didn’t really give a shit about anyone, and go from there.
So far, still kicking.
“How long until they send someone else?”
“Can’t say. It’s not like there’s an unlimited number of idiots willing to freeze their asses off in the middle of Alaska.”
“Gee, thanks.”
Agent Useless, as Sam privately thought of him, flicked some ash from his cigarette onto the ground. Sam watched the spark land in the snow, a speck of orange lighting up the snow crystals until it quickly burned out. “I’m starting to think you might actually like it here, Coburn.”
“The sunsets are spectacular,” Sam said blandly. Agent Useless was correct. He did like it here. Hopefully he could stick around even after the job was complete. “Are we done here?”
“Sure thing, hotshot, but don’t disappoint me now. I keep telling everyone you’re the one who’s going to crack this nut. I even have money riding on you.”
“Oh yeah? How much?”
“A hundred American pennies.”
