скачать книгу бесплатно
She glanced down the hall leading from the kitchen to the side office. The normally comfortable space seemed ominously long and dark. Her gaze went to the small alcove off the dining room that housed the staircase to the second floor. Was that a squeak overhead?
Lord Jesus, protect us. Protect my boys.
Cradling the phone between her chin and shoulder, she grasped Dexter and Sammy by the shoulders.
“Take the boys and get out.” Reed’s usually calm tone tensed. “Do it now, Amy. Get out of the house.”
He didn’t have to tell her twice. Someone could still be inside.
“Amy? Do you hear me?”
“I’m going.” If her knees would hold her up.
“I’ll be there in five.” The security of Reed’s voice was lost as the line went dead.
Hurrying now, aware that her children could be in danger, Amy shuffled her sons out into the cold gray of a late November Alaska.
“Get in the car.”
Ever alert to her surroundings, she opened the back door to the red SUV, hoisted Sammy and Dexter inside and quickly slammed the door. Car seats could wait.
More jittery than she wanted to be, she bolted around to the driver’s side and hopped in. Her fingers trembled as she jabbed the key into the ignition, turned the switch and popped the locks. She leaned her head back against the seat and sighed but didn’t close her eyes.
If someone was still in the house, she needed to know. If not for the boys, she would have searched the rooms herself and beaned the rats who’d invaded her safe and happy home.
But she had the boys to think about, and they came first—always.
As if he’d read her mind, Dexter leaned through the console. A tear trickled down his cheek. “I want Daddy.”
Sammy heard the tremor in his big brother’s voice. His small head poked through the space, too. Tears streamed down his round, baby face. “I want Daddy, too. Where’s Daddy?”
Both began to cry.
The words were a spear through Amy’s heart. She wanted Ben, too. Even after nearly a year, she still expected him to walk in the door any moment, eyes dancing, face rosy from the outdoor work he loved. But Ben, her love, her best friend, her partner in Alaska’s Treasures tour company, would never be here again to protect and comfort his sons. Or her.
The now-familiar heaviness pressed down on her chest. Life was not fair sometimes. She was strongly tempted to cry with her sons, but after Ben’s death on the Wild Rapids Tour, she’d cried the Yukon River full of tears. Being strong for her boys and her floundering town were the things that mattered now. She had a job to do, people depending on her, and she would not fail them. Ben would have expected no less.
“Don’t cry, Dex.” She stroked her eldest’s dark hair, so different from her own. “Come on. Crawl up here beside Mama while we wait for Chief Reed.”
Dexter sniffed. “Is he coming? I mean, right now?”
“Any minute, baby.”
Both her sons were more their father than her, which was fine with Amy, although looking into their faces was like looking at miniature versions of Ben. Dexter even bore Ben’s chin cleft. The reminder was both pain and pleasure. She’d loved Ben James with everything in her. And he’d loved her the same way.
They’d been building a good life here in Treasure Creek, Alaska, where they had both grown up. The Alaska’s Treasures tour company had been their dream, a dream that had cost Ben his life. But she never blamed the business or the lifestyle. Danger, like beauty, was part of life and work in rugged Alaska.
Without the revenue from the tour company and the business it generated for the hotels, eateries and other enterprises, the little town of Treasure Creek could become another forgotten ghost town.
A siren ripped the cold, crisp air, and Amy found the sound as sweet as a Christmas carol. After another quick glance at the house, she turned to watch the rotating lights of Reed’s four-wheel drive. His ever-present dog, Cy, sat in the passenger seat, mouth open in a smile.
Dexter stopped crying and moved to a side window. Sammy followed his big brother, dragging the stuffed puppy along at his side. Cy was a particular favorite of her two sons. The one-eyed malamute was usually more personable than his master.
Some of the tension left Amy’s shoulders. Reed was here.
The tough, sinewy chief of police had been Ben’s best friend. Regardless of that awkward, humiliating marriage proposal, Reed was a loyal friend and a great cop. Whoever had broken into her house had just made a fearsome enemy.
Reed Truscott slammed the vehicle into Park and bolted out the door before the truck stopped rocking. In more than a dozen years on the job, he’d never seen this much trouble in Treasure Creek.
“Mack Tanner and his treasure,” he grumbled. People had been traipsing up on Chilkoot Trail for years, searching for the treasure Amy’s great-great-grandfather had buried there during the Gold Rush of 1889. Why did the thing have to be found in his lifetime? And why did Amy have to be in the line of fire?
It was that crazy magazine interview Amy had done. That’s what started all the trouble.
His boots crunched on last night’s new snow as he stalked toward Amy’s Jeep. Part of him expected Miss Iron Woman to still be inside the house. When he told her to get out, he’d intended for her to leave, to get completely away from the crime scene and any hint of danger. But Amy did things her way, so he was relieved to spot her and her little ones safely inside the red vehicle.
How was he supposed to take care of Ben’s family when Amy was so uncooperative?
With her usual, vibrant energy, she hopped out of the car and came to meet him.
An invisible fist clutched his insides. Looking at Amy seemed to do that to him lately.
Stress, he supposed. Or responsibility. The problem had started after Ben insisted Reed take care of Amy and the boys if anything should happen to him. Reed had tried to laugh off the request, but when Ben pressed, he’d agreed. It was almost as if Ben knew he wouldn’t be around to care for his loved ones. And Reed Truscott was a man of his word. He was honor-bound to look after Amy James. To his way of thinking, that honor was exactly why she should marry him.
But he probably shouldn’t mention that to Amy today. She looked in no mood for another marriage proposal. He’d bungled the first time badly enough, though he was still trying to figure out where he went wrong.
Hands shoved into the pockets of her open parka, Amy strode toward him in jeans and a yellow-green sweater that turned her hair to copper fire. The cold, fading sunlight caught in the shoulder-length waves and shot sparks in every direction. She had glorious hair, the kind a man wanted to touch.
Reed’s gut clenched again. He didn’t like thinking of Ben’s wife as pretty, but she was. Amy had been in his head and heart for a long time, first as a friend, but after Ben’s death—well, things changed. And the feelings rolling around inside him were downright uncomfortable.
“You and the boys okay?” He barked the question, more worried about the town’s main citizen than he wanted to show.
Amy nodded, pretending calm, but he’d heard the quiver in her voice on the phone. He was still angry about that. Any scuzzball who upset Amy was going to answer to him.
“Whoever broke in wasn’t after us.”
“This isn’t the first time, Amy. Somebody will do anything to get their hands on that treasure of yours.”
“I know.” Her reply was quiet and reflective as she gazed off toward the mountains to the west. He knew she was remembering the day they’d finally found Mack Tanner’s buried treasure chest. A pair of gun-toting thieves had found it at the same time.
He’d nearly had a heart attack when one of the thugs shoved a pistol against Amy’s temple. If not for Tucker Lawson’s help Amy could have been killed. That moment haunted his dreams.
Since this frenzy over buried treasure began he’d not had a moment of peace. Even though the heavy metal box was locked up in the safe in his office only he and Amy had that information.
The town’s excitement wasn’t helping, either. “Last rumor I heard down at the Lizbet’s Diner estimates the contents of that box at over a million dollars.”
Amy’s eyes widened. “What? Reed, that’s crazy. We don’t even know what’s in the box yet.”
“Tell me about it. The price goes up every day.” Grimly, he perched a hand on the butt of his service pistol. Until lately, he’d never worn it. Didn’t need to. His adopted town was a peace-loving place, filled with good people. Mostly. “Men have killed for a lot less.”
Amy had this crazy idea to wait until Christmas Eve, still four weeks away, to open the chest and present the treasure to the town. He understood in part because the town coffers were empty, and they needed money badly. The schools were in danger of consolidation, the library in danger of closing. Even his office budget was tighter than tree bark.
“You should open the treasure and be done with it,” he said.
Amy took exception. “No! Treasure Creek has faced such difficult times these last couple of years. Thinking about this treasure and speculating about the good it will do for the town has lifted everyone’s spirits. I will not allow low-life scums to rob us of the best Christmas possible.”
Reed suppressed a sigh. He knew she’d say that. This was Amy, as tenacious as Alaskan winter and with a heart as big as the sun. All of Treasure Creek leaned on her, and she let them, encouraged them. Even though she was barely into her thirties, she carried a whole town on her small shoulders.
A man had to admire a woman like that.
But for the chief of police, Christmas couldn’t come soon enough. Once the treasure chest was opened, maybe life would settle down and Amy would be safe again. Really safe.
He started up the drive. “I better have a look inside.”
“I’ll go with you.”
“You and the kids stay out here.”
“No way. If anyone was inside, they’re probably long gone, but they also might be lurking in the bushes. I’ll take my chances in the house with you.”
Reed thought Amy might have just paid him a compliment. Though he’d rather she was somewhere safer, her logic made sense. An intruder could just as easily be outside as in. And Reed had the advantage of a loaded pistol.
They fell in step. As they passed Amy’s vehicle, her two little boys tumbled out and followed.
“Chief Reed, someone broke our stuff.”
Reed gazed down at the knee-high child. Dexter’s little head was tilted back, looking up with big gray eyes that trusted the police to do something. Police business Reed could handle, but kids were a puzzle. “Don’t be scared.”
It was a lame thing to say, but Dexter seemed okay with it. Like his mother, the child bowed his head, shoved his hands in his coat pockets and traipsed across the yard, ready to face whatever was inside the house. Three-year-old Sammy, though, clung to his mother’s hand and stayed as close to her as possible. Reed couldn’t help feeling sorry for the little guy.
They reached the back door and Reed thrust out an arm to stop them from entering. “Lock’s jimmied. Was the door open when you arrived?”
Amy nodded. “Yes.”
Incredulous, he stared down into eyes bluer than arctic waters. His gut did that weird clutching thing again. “And you went inside anyway?”
“This is Treasure Creek. I never used to lock my doors at all. You know how out of square this old house is. I thought maybe I’d forgotten to shut the door hard enough this morning before I went to the office.”
A reasonable explanation, but he still didn’t like the idea that she’d gone inside. If something happened to her—well, he felt guilty enough about the way Ben died without letting him down again.
“Let me go in first. You and the boys stay close until I check all the rooms.”
Amy scooped Sammy onto her hip and held Dexter’s hand, doing as Reed asked without comment. The break-in had shaken her more than she wanted to admit.
It had shaken him, too.
Together they made the rounds downstairs. Amy remained tight-lipped, but her pallor told how upset she was. They bumped in a doorway and it was all he could do to keep from pulling her close for a moment, to tell her everything would be all right, to erase the lines of worry around her beautiful eyes.
Reed slapped the impulse away. This was Ben’s wife. She was his responsibility, not his woman.
“What a mess,” he grumbled, mostly to break his troubling train of thought, but furious, too, at whoever had done this.
“Upstairs next. Me first.”
Whoever had been here was gone now. His gut instinct told him as much, but he was taking no chances.
As they started up, he reached out and took Sammy into his arms. The kid was barely three, but Amy wasn’t as big as a house cat.
“I carry him all the time, Reed.”
He just grunted and started climbing, his boots ringing hollow on the wooden steps. Lugging Sammy up the stairs was too much for her, whether she wanted to admit it or not. At the top, he returned the boy to his mother, needing to be alert and prepared in case of a nasty surprise.
“My room is here,” she said, pointing to a green-paneled door. “I dread looking in there.”
Reed bit down on his back teeth. He dreaded looking in there, too, but for more reasons than the break-in. Something about entering the bedroom that Amy and Ben had shared made him uncomfortable.
But he was a police officer. This was his job.
“Stay put. I’ll look.”
With the flat of his hand, he eased the door open and glanced inside. Anger bubbled up like a hot fountain. Ben had worked his tail off on this house. Reed knew, because he’d helped him. And now, like the rest of the house, the beige-and-blue bedroom was in shambles. Papers, books, clothes and toiletries were strewn everywhere. A lamp lay on the bed, the bulb broken and the shade crumpled. The room was as cold as the outside.
With a frown, he stepped inside. “Better come in here, Amy.”
She did. “Oh, my.”
The words were barely a breath, but they were filled with distress. Again, the need to hold and comfort assailed the chief of police.
Jaw tight, he pointed to the window. “Escape route. Your visitors were likely in the house when you arrived.”
“I thought I heard something.”
Frustration and worry and responsibility warred in his belly. This wasn’t the first threat to Amy’s safety. She was going to get hurt if he didn’t do something and do it fast.
His inner voice demanded that he do the right thing—at least the right thing in his book—no matter how much personal turmoil it caused.
And so he did.
“That’s it,” he said. “You’re moving in with me.” He planted one hand on his hip and faced her, ready for the inevitable argument. “Today.”
Chapter Two
Hair rose on the back of Amy’s neck. Of all the arrogant, overreactive statements! She bit back a sharp retort while trying hard to see Reed’s point. Ten seconds later she gave up. His point was ridiculous. Besides, the idea of moving in with Reed, for any reason, made her feel…funny.
“Don’t be silly.” She spun away and stalked out of the bedroom. Sammy and Dexter followed, little legs sprinting to keep up. They knew from experience that when Mommy moved, she moved fast.
She was already down the wooden staircase and making the turn toward the ransacked kitchen when Reed caught up with her. He grabbed her elbow. Amy stopped, not that she had much choice with fingers of steel and nearly two hundred pounds of muscle latched on to her.
“Come on, Amy, be reasonable. You have to.”
