Last Hope Alaska

Inc.

Last Hope Alaska

by

Linda Trout

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

Last Hope Alaska

COPYRIGHT © 2014 by Linda Trout

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press, Inc. except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

Contact Information: info@thewildrosepress.com

Cover Art by Rae Monet, Inc. Design

The Wild Rose Press, Inc.

PO Box 708

Adams Basin, NY 14410-0708

Visit us at www.thewildrosepress.com

Publishing History

First Crimson Rose Edition, 2014

Print ISBN 978-1-62830-358-2

Digital ISBN 978-1-62830-359-9

Published in the United States of America

Praise for another Linda Trout title

available from The Wild Rose Press, Inc.

GRAVE SECRETS

"GRAVE SECRETS kept me turning the pages. I believe Linda Trout has a story that will bring many hours of reading pleasure."

~Jodi Thomas,

NY Times & USA Today best-selling author

~~

From the shocks of the first scene to the end of the book, Linda Trout grabs hold of her readers and doesn't let go. It's a great emotional ride.

~Marilyn Pappano,

USA Today best-selling author

Dedication

To Julia Pinnix,

who kept me honest about bear attacks.

Any mistakes in this book about bears

are mine alone.

~*~

To my friends and writing sisters

who constantly push me to be a better writer.

I’m so grateful you always have my back.

~*~

To my sister, Sue Maplethorpe,

and the rest of the family

who promote my books so enthusiastically

and shamelessly.

Thank you. Love you all!

~*~

To my real life hero, my husband,

whose constant support and encouragement

mean the world to me.

Thank you for introducing me to Alaska

all those years ago

and for taking me back time after time

until I finally wrote a book about the region.

I will always love you.

Chapter One

She couldn’t afford the hotel.

Refusing to be intimidated by the bellman, Emily Redfern straightened her back, gripped the handle of the suitcase, and headed down the crowded sidewalk. Much smaller than Tulsa, Oklahoma, Juneau wouldn’t provide the safety she craved. But where could she go from here? This was her last stop.

Her last hope for refuge.

Left over piles of dirty snow shoved into corners of parking lots melted, creating wet skirts around them. Gravel littered the roads. For some reason, she’d expected Juneau to be pristine, and warmer than the mid-fifties. Apparently early May was too early for spring this far north.

Right now her feet hurt, her back hurt, and her butt hurt. She felt as if she’d lived an entire lifetime in airports. Had it been only six days since her world turned upside down? It felt much longer. Her stomach rumbled, reminding her it was well past dinner time and of how long it’d been since she’d eaten. The tantalizing aromas from an open doorway drew her.

Cautiously, she pushed open the swinging doors to The Dogsled Saloon. The place was packed. To the left stood a small stage where two men played guitars and sang. The wall next to them was lined with yellowed newspaper articles probably about the Gold Rush, pieces of clothing from the 1800s, old snow shoes, a king crab, and other assorted fish. On her right, a long mahogany bar ran over half the length of the room as two bartenders hustled to fill orders.

Sawdust covered the concrete floor while a smoky haze hung in the air. Customers tried to outtalk the music, creating a noisy din. When a couple in a back corner stood to leave, she wove her way toward them to claim the small table, stacking their dirty dishes to one side.

I’ll get those out of your way, a harried but friendly waitress said. She left a menu then headed to the kitchen. A few minutes later she returned, pad and pen in hand. What’ll it be, sweetie?

The Reuben and a diet cola.

Good choice. You’ll love it. She winked and scribbled the order. I’ll be right back with your soda.

Emily settled back and the vibration of the beat thrummed through her as the performers sang North to Alaska. She smiled when the audience loudly joined in on the chorus. Normally, she would have sung along, but she couldn’t find her voice. A bone weary loneliness permeated all the way to her soul. Her piled high sandwich arrived, and she devoured it. The waitress hadn’t been wrong in her assessment. Stifling an un-lady like belch, Emily dabbed at her mouth with the paper napkin before she finished her drink.

Then, eyes closed, she lounged in the wooden chair, allowing the smells and sounds of the saloon to wash over her. Would she ever be able to totally relax again? Tired of running, of constantly being on guard, it was refreshing to blend in with others who were simply there to enjoy themselves.

Abruptly her head jerked, and her eyes popped open. The music had stopped and only a few people remained in the saloon. Panicked, she glanced behind her. The suitcase was still there. Thank goodness she’d threaded the straps of her purse through her arms, having tucked it against her stomach. How could she be so careless? And in public?

Chastising herself, she dug cash out of her purse for the meal and tip, then gathered her things, intent on leaving. Partway to the door, the band started playing North to Alaska again. The tourists probably loved the song, but she was willing to bet the band members were sick of it. Not wanting to leave the warmth and security, she pulled out a chair at an empty table along the wall, directly under the king crab.

When she glanced at the bar, the taller of the two bartenders stared back at her, unblinking. He said something to the other man and slipped under the pass through. He made his way toward her, stopping when he reached her table. She told herself not to stare, but she couldn’t take her gaze off him.

The white shirt emphasized his wide shoulders. His blond hair hung to the collar of his shirt, reminding her of a mountain man, totally at home in the Alaskan wilderness, knowing where he belonged.

He towered over her a moment as she craned her neck. Quickly he pulled a chair from the opposite table, turned it around and straddled it, bracing his arms across the back. Emily expected him to smell of alcohol, but instead the only odor she detected was earthy—as if he truly were from the woods. His square jaw spoke of a quiet strength.

Whiskey. He barely breathed the word. The formation of the word drew her gaze to his full sensuous lips.

I beg your pardon?

It took a heartbeat or two for him to answer. Your eyes. They remind me of rich, amber whiskey. He held her gaze for a long time.

Um, thank you. I think. The longer he sat there, the closer he leaned toward her. It startled her to realize she didn’t mind. He seemed so down to earth and...safe. So totally opposite of Dominic and his kind.

The thought of her former fiancé sent a shiver down her back.

You cold?

She smiled faintly. No, just an unpleasant thought.

Oh. Well, I’m Sam. Sam Tarkington. Best bartender in town. He winked, then grinned. The movement caused his steel gray eyes to soften.

Her shoulders relaxed as she truly smiled this time. His comment sounded like a smarmy come-on, but she liked it anyway. I’m Emily.

Nice to meet you, Emily. You didn’t come in on a cruise ship, did you?

Her heart rate kicked up a notch. Uh, no. Why? Did she have a stamp on her forehead saying she was on the run? Or had she acted suspiciously?

Your bag. He nodded toward the wall.

Relief flooded her. Doing her best to steady her voice, she said, I flew in this evening. I wanted to get something to eat and once here, had a hard time leaving. Interesting atmosphere. She gestured toward a metal pole in the center of the room. A stuffed black bear was directly below a pair of men’s stuffed pants and rubber boots, which led into the ceiling, giving the impression of the bear chasing the man.

He glanced over his shoulder before turning his gaze back on her, locking her in place. Yeah, the tourists enjoy it.

Thank goodness he let her steer the conversation away from herself. I saw the stuffed grizzly at the airport, and I’ve watched some shows on PBS but didn’t know if—

Bears are all over the place. Every now and then one will venture into the populated areas. You can’t take your safety for granted.

Boy, had she learned that the hard way...long before she reached Alaska. Thanks for the warning.

Where are you from with that accent? Texas?

Too close to home. Do I sound southern? She kept the smile in place. The one thing she’d learned over the last few days, keep to yourself, revealing as little as possible. To anyone.

His gaze lowered to her lips before returning to her eyes, sending a tingling sensation through her. We get people in here from all over the world. I like to figure out where they’re from. Who knows, I might want to visit there one day.

Emily didn’t think it was a line. He sounded honest, sincere. Have you ever been to any of the other states? Glancing around the room, no one paid attention to them. And talking to Sam seemed safe enough. At least no one else would approach her while he sat there. Besides, she enjoyed listening to the rich sound of his voice as it flowed over her.

I’ve never been out of Alaska. Even if I spent the rest of my life trying to explore this state, I’d never see it all. Sometimes I think it’d be nice to see a little more of the world, though. You know, find out what else is out there. His gaze traveled up the wall containing the prospector paraphernalia. The dreamy expression in his eyes belied what he’d just said. He belonged to the land. He belonged here.

Must be nice, she murmured.

What? He brought those gray eyes back to hers, searching.

Stay where you are. She inclined her head toward the door. Out there isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.

His brow creased in a frown. Are you okay? You seem...

For a moment, she lost herself in his gaze and marveled that a complete stranger would care about her. Then she came to her senses. He was simply being polite. Nothing more. I’m fine.

****

Sam leaned back. A coolness had suddenly settled over the woman, as if she’d withdrawn from their conversation.

Her dark brown hair fell well past her shoulders, the ends brushing against a jacket of jailhouse green. Both it and her pants fit loosely, making him wonder what she was trying to hide. Curves, or a lack of? It appeared as if she’d worn off whatever makeup she’d put on, the natural beauty of her olive skin shining through. Her mussed hair looked as if she’d just crawled out of bed after some hot and heavy play. Play that he wouldn’t mind participating in one bit.

Head down, she’d avoided making eye contact with anyone when she’d come in, reminding him of people he’d seen while in the system. Normally, he stayed away from anyone who might possibly land him on the wrong side of prison bars again. But he hadn’t been able to resist talking to her, to find out a little bit about her. To see if, for once, his luck might change.

He almost snorted. Yeah, right.

Still, something about the soft-spoken lady from the south called to him. Except she was trouble waiting to happen. He knew it when he saw it.

She fiddled with her purse strap as if adjusting it on her shoulder were the most important thing in the world, then looked at him with those whiskey colored eyes. I have to be going. I enjoyed our conversation.

He stared at her a moment, trying to figure her out. Then, giving himself a mental shake, he said, Enjoy your stay. He’d said the same thing a thousand times. Except this time it sounded different, felt different.

Standing, he did his best to ignore her deer-in-the-headlights look. He would not be suckered in by a woman who said one thing while her body language said another. Scooting the chair under the table, he turned and headed to the bar without a backwards glance. He sensed, rather than saw, her scurrying out of the saloon. What was going on with her, anyway? He’d never know. Didn’t want to know. At least that’s what he told himself.

The band shut down as the rest of the customers meandered out, heading back to their ships or hotels. Did Emily say where she was staying? Not that he recalled. Anyway, there’d be cabs still circling, looking for last minute fares, so she’d be gone by the time the saloon closed up.

Everything all right, boss? Ed, the other bartender, asked.

Sam cast one last glance toward the swinging doors before turning his attention back to business. Don’t call me boss. Haven’t been for years.

You’re the boss in my opinion. Besides, I don’t like the prick of a manager the out-of-state owner hired.

Regret ate at Sam. Necessity had forced him to sell the saloon. Like many other businesses in town, the place had been scooped up by one of the cruise line corporations. He hated that, had sworn it would never happen to his place. Wrong. Ed stood waiting for a reply. Nothing Sam could say would make any difference, either in who ran the place or his mood regarding the mysterious woman who’d just left, so he went back to work. It didn’t take Ed long to get the message, and he left Sam alone with his thoughts.

Irritated, he rubbed the bar harder than needed, slammed and shoved doors and drawers, then collected the cash from the tills. By the time he’d finished and dumped the money bags in the office safe for the accountant, only the fry cook remained. Everyone else had quickly completed their duties and left. Saying a terse goodnight, Sam yanked his fleece jacket off the peg by the back door and headed to his cab a block and half away. He hated driving a taxi, but it brought in much needed cash. He’d found working for the other man didn’t pay nearly as well as owning your own business.

While waiting for the heater to kick in, he wondered if Emily had caught a ride yet. Her lightweight jacket was fine for the daytime, but once the sun settled below Douglas Island, it got downright chilly. Maybe he’d swing down the main drag. Just to be sure. Not that he cared what happened to her.

Liar.

Sam pulled out of the parking lot and headed down Franklin, all but deserted except for people drifting in and out of the beer joints. No sign of Miss Whiskey Eyes. Good. He didn’t know why he’d even bothered in the first place. He slowed to turn onto the next street when a commotion at the bus stop, a favorite late night hangout for the local drunks, caught his attention. A small crowd of men jostled each other, laughing and jeering. Nothing unusual. Then a woman in a green jacket stepped out of the shadows.

Emily.

Cursing, he swung the cab around. By the time he’d gotten close, she’d broken free of the group and had started walking briskly down the sidewalk, headed toward the highway, with one of the bums following close behind. Sam swore, stopped directly next to her, then rolled down the window. Get in.

Buzz off, man. I saw ’er first. The drunk grabbed for her arm. The moment he touched her, she turned and swung her purse, hitting him on the side of the head. Hey, there ain’t no need to get—

Leave—me—alone! she enunciated each word as she glared at the drunk, all the while backing away, pushing the suitcase behind her. The man made another grab for her and she swung again, but he managed to duck in time.

Go to hell, bit—

Enough! Sam yelled. He’d already shoved the car in Park and was halfway out of the vehicle when she defended herself. Did a fair job of it, too. Apparently not liking the odds, the drunk staggered back to his buddies, who jeered him for getting whipped by a woman. They all headed back to the bus stop. Sam looked back at the idling cab. Thankfully none of the drunks had thought to go for a joy ride. Man, he was getting sloppy.

Before he knew what was happening, Emily started walking again. Hey, where are you going?

To find another bus stop, she threw over her shoulder.

He had to hustle to catch up with her. His first impulse was to take her arm, then thought better of it. He’d witnessed firsthand how she could land a solid punch with that bag of hers. Wait.

She stopped, tapping her foot impatiently. What?

The last bus ran almost an hour ago.

That got her attention. Her mouth dropped open before she took a breath and faced him squarely. Then can you tell me if a motel is nearby? I’ve gotten turned around.

What the…? You don’t have a reservation?

She stared at him silently. Her lower lip trembled, and she shook her head.

He mumbled a curse. Standing in the dark wasn’t doing either one of them any good. Plus, his car still sat idling…an open invitation for anyone walking by to steal it. Without thinking, he cupped her elbow with one hand while he snagged the bag with the other, turning her toward the car. Get in.

This time she didn’t protest. Once she was settled, he dumped the bag in the backseat. By the time he climbed behind the wheel, she’d put the window up and had her hands stuck close to the vent. The woman didn’t have a clue how cold it got. Just a week ago, the temperatures had dipped into the thirties. They weren’t exactly having a heat wave now, but it still wasn’t warm enough for the way she was dressed.

Finally, she sat back and threw him a brief grin. Thank you. Um, for everything.

What did you think you were doing, wandering around out there all alone? You could’ve been hurt.

She stiffened. How was I supposed to know it wasn’t safe? It’s a public bus stop in the middle of downtown. It looked okay until those men showed up.

What about the bus stops where you come from? Do you feel comfortable standing alone at them? He had the urge to yell at her. Except he didn’t have the right.

I—I don’t know. I don’t normally ride the bus.

That’s what I thought. He stared her down while the seconds tick by. It isn’t safe to ride the bus late at night. You need to know exactly where to be picked up and left off. Otherwise, take a cab.

Thank you. I appreciate the advice. Now, is there a motel close? She chewed on her lower lip a moment before her lips pressed into a flat line, then she turned her head toward the side window.

He didn’t know what to think. She’d handled herself well enough with the drunk, but here she sat, in the middle of the night, without a clue where she was going to sleep.

Yeah, there are motels all over the place. Don’t think you’ll have much luck finding a room though.

Whirling to face him, she looked panicked, all the fire gone. Wh—what?

There are a couple of conventions in town, plus it’s the start of tourist season. I’m pretty sure any decent room is booked.

She faced forward and slumped against the seat. What am I going to do? she asked quietly. I’ve come so far. I thought I could do this...

Her voice broke, which ripped at Sam. And what did she mean by that comment?

Maybe we can find something. I’ll drive around and see if there are any vacancies. Who knows, I could be wrong. Been known to happen.

She swung her head toward him. Tears glistened in her eyes but none of them fell. I don’t know what to say. Not after I, well, I was rude to you before. I’m sorry.

He liked her. She’d stood up to the drunks, but apologized for what she perceived as bad behavior. Go figure. Let’s just say you were blunt. You didn’t know me, so don’t worry about it.

The corners of her lips inched upward. Hiding his own smile, he gave Emily a quick nod of acknowledgement, then pulled away from the curb. He figured there wasn’t a snowball’s chance of finding a room, but he’d