“I couldn’t forget.” Her voice is sad and tinged with bitterness. “No matter how far I ran, I couldn’t forget you. We were supposed to do that trip together.”
“I’m sorry, Sydney. I freaked out. We had all these plans. To travel, then to get a cabin back here on the mountain and start a family. But the truth is, when we talked about those things, it frightened me. I didn’t know how I was going to provide all those things for you.
“I don’t come from money, Sydney, and a soldier’s wage can’t support a family for long. I had no skills, and the club was only just starting up. I came from poverty, and I was scared I’d drag us both down there again.”
She sighs. “You’re fucking stupid, Viking. Do you think I don’t want to work? It’s the 21stcentury. You don’t have to do it all on your own. I don’t expect a man to support me.”
The words hang in the air, and while I love Sydney’s independence, there’s a big part of me that does want to support her. To take care of her and provide for her.
Her voice wavers. “You left for honor and money, and you didn’t give me a vote.”
I slide my arm around her shoulders, wanting to ease the hurt that I caused.
“I still want that cabin in the woods, Sydney, with you. I saved hard and I learned carpentry. I can build it myself with help from the guys. I don’t deserve a second chance, but if you want to give me one, it will be on your terms.”
She shuffles on the pallet, but she doesn’t move away or wiggle out from under my arm.
“Dreams change; people change.”
The generator hums through the concrete, and I keep my arm firmly around her. If she gives me a second chance, I’m never letting her go.
7
SYDNEY
Anoise startles me awake. The lantern has dimmed and the generator’s distant hum has slowed. I blink slowly and rub my fingers into my stiff neck.
I must have fallen asleep next to Viking, the exhaustion of the storm finally catching up with me. But the pallet is cold and empty now. His jacket is still draped over me, and the empty coffee mug sits on the concrete floor.
There’s a muffled clank from nearby, and I turn to the sound. Viking’s silhouette is framed against the door that leads to the loading bay. He presses his ear to it, listening.
I pad quietly over to him and he leans down to whisper in my ear, his hot breath tickling my skin.
“I heard something. I’m going to check it out.”
He starts to move away, but I pull him back, my fingers catching in his hair. “Who would be out in the storm?”
He’s thinking about the missing kegs, but it’s unlikely anyone would come for them now, not with the roads closed. His lips brush my ear, sending heat through me that thaws the cold in my bones.
“Someone desperate.”
The door that leads to the loading bay is in the corner near a stack of shelves and the seller control panel. Viking silently edges it open and slides through. Halfway he pauses and puts a palm out when I start to follow. He points two fingers to his eyes and then toward the cellar floor—military hand signals I remember from years ago. A surge of nostalgia rattles through me, and I nod, staying behind the doorjamb.
The only illumination in the dockyard is the faint glow coming through the high windows. A shadow moves across the dockyard floor, and I slap a hand over my mouth to stifle a gasp. Another shadow joins the first, this one smaller and hunched over. I don’t see Viking, but I know he must be there, silently moving in on the intruders.
I edge away from the door to the control panel, ready to switch on the lights if Viking needs me to.
The shadows move closer to the door. My heartbeat quickens. I hear the squeak of rubber soles on concrete.
It’s obvious they know their way around, and they’re heading for the cellar where I’m hiding.
One shadow swings something by his side, and metal glints in the dim light. A bolt cutter.
I grope for a weapon, anything I can use. I reach around the shelving unit, and my hand closes on a screwdriver. I raise it to shoulder height, ready to use it if I have to.
They’re almost at the door when a shape blocks my view.
“Easy, fellas.”
