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Witness On The Run
Susan Cliff
A deadly road. A desperate situation.A desire that can’t be denied.On the run for the last year, Tala Walker must flee again when she witnesses a murder. She stows away with a sexy, gruff ice road trucker headed to the wilds of Alaska. Despite his own painful past, Cameron Hughes offers his protection. But as they navigate the ice and flee the killers, their passion threatens to burn brighter than the northern lights…


A deadly road. A desperate situation.
A desire that can’t be denied.
On the run for the last year, Tala Walker must flee again when she witnesses a murder. She stows away with a sexy, gruff ice road trucker headed to the wilds of Alaska. Despite his own painful past, Cameron Hughes offers his protection. But as they navigate the ice and flee the killers, their passion threatens to burn brighter than the northern lights...
SUSAN CLIFF is a longtime romance reader, part-time writer and full-time California girl. She loves to daydream about exciting adventures in exotic locales. Her books feature heartfelt romance, gripping suspense and true-to-life characters. Get swept away with Susan Cliff!
Also By Susan Cliff (#u0ab8344d-c16a-5c50-a33b-12b9ae170066)
Witness on the Run
Team Twelve
Navy SEAL Rescue
Stranded with the Navy SEAL
Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Witness on the Run
Susan Cliff


www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
ISBN: 978-1-474-07962-4
WITNESS ON THE RUN
© 2018 Susan Cliff
Published in Great Britain 2018
by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF
All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.
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www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
“You haven’t been honest with me,” Cam shot back angrily. “You never said you were facing serious charges. I don’t know what the hell is going on. I don’t even know who you’re running from!”
Tala hadn’t withheld information to deceive him. She’d done it to protect him, and herself.
“You’re not as innocent as you pretend to be,” he said.
She sputtered with outrage. “I’m not pretending to be anything.”
He stepped forward, crowding her space. “I’m not a fool, Tala.”
“Why did I come here, then?”
“To torture me.”
She shoved his chest. He didn’t budge. “You think you’re the only one who gets stir-crazy? I’ve been trapped inside a truck for two days, just like you. I need to move around, just like you. I feel restless, too.”
“What I feel is sexual frustration, not restlessness.”
“I’m aware of that.”
“So you wandered over here to make it worse?”
“No. I wandered over here to make it better.”
She didn’t touch him. She just waited for him to touch her, and he didn’t disappoint. Thrusting his hands into her hair, he crushed his mouth over hers.
Dear Reader (#u0ab8344d-c16a-5c50-a33b-12b9ae170066),
I’m delighted to take you on another exciting adventure in my latest romantic suspense novel! If you’ve read my previous books, you know this story is a bit of a detour for me. Cameron Hughes isn’t a Navy SEAL. He’s not a member of Team Twelve. He’s a truck driver.
I’ve always had a soft spot for unlikely heroes, especially the bearded-recluse type. Cam is a former police officer turned guarded widower. He embraces the solitude and remoteness of Alaska’s dark highways. He doesn’t want to get involved with anyone, but fate has other plans. Enter Tala Walker, the witness on the run, and an unlikely heroine in her own right. She’s a waitress with a troubled past and in desperate need of a ride. Cam gives her shelter and becomes her reluctant protector. Together, they embark on a daring journey across the icy tundra.
I hope you enjoy spending time with these characters as much as I did. The setting is unusual, but the core of the story is pure romance. It’s about two people who fall in love against all odds and find the happiness they deserve.
If you prefer the road less traveled, come with me.
Susan Cliff
Contents
Cover (#u43eee7e7-1f41-5f23-a443-fdf53d9a0a25)
Back Cover Text (#ub02f3fc9-ad43-5718-860d-66c68e4104b3)
About the Author (#ufbe00769-bb1e-5933-8b80-a10935370a0f)
Booklist (#u9410a06d-b291-5b30-945c-c3d3db202221)
Title Page (#u388a9191-2eb8-5bc1-959a-45f413991a18)
Copyright (#uda9b8147-80eb-5b1a-967c-a98f47f85cec)
Introduction (#ud0b8d9e1-559f-5e7c-ab29-a431dccb7f64)
Dear Reader (#u9b0a510a-8839-52b5-97e1-c9816ff5d5c1)
Chapter 1 (#u08e4b1b5-014d-5e5f-890d-e054834e8424)
Chapter 2 (#u2be9eda7-95e8-5972-a4ea-3b8064072604)
Chapter 3 (#udb77c442-58d3-5c60-98ba-29ce3c90d6ca)
Chapter 4 (#ub30ae33d-830d-527c-910c-642cf77e1e66)
Chapter 5 (#uca0633d1-362d-58b4-9024-27294421c5df)
Chapter 6 (#ud10fc9d0-9235-595d-a226-0ba6fdf1c205)
Chapter 7 (#uee0105d9-50e5-59cb-ada1-92b8ffe381a4)
Chapter 8 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 9 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 10 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 11 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 12 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 13 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 14 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 15 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 16 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 17 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 18 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 19 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 20 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 21 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 22 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 23 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 24 (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 1 (#u0ab8344d-c16a-5c50-a33b-12b9ae170066)
December 1162N14 degrees
Tala Walker was a woman on the run.
She’d fled Canada six months ago and never looked back. Now she was living under an alias in Willow, Alaska. She’d rented a room at a quiet boarding house. Every day she got up early and walked to the diner where she worked.
It wasn’t much, but she felt safe here.
This morning, the diner was in disarray. There were beer cans all over the countertops and broken glass on the floor. It reeked of booze and cigarettes. She sighed, shaking her head. Walt must have really tied one on last night.
A quick detour to the office down the hall revealed the man responsible for the mess. He was dead to the world, snoring away on a dilapidated love seat. His barreled chest rose and fell with every breath.
Tala didn’t bother to wake him up. Walt was her boss, the designated cook and the owner of the diner. If he wanted to sleep on the job, that was his prerogative. She’d opened on her own before. She could handle the early-morning customers herself. They were heading into the dark days of winter, and business was sparse.
She cleared away the trash and cleaned the floor. She thought of Duane, the husband she’d run away from, who’d also indulged in drunken antics. Only his hadn’t been as harmless as Walt’s. She pushed aside those memories and focused on her morning tasks. Alaskan truckers liked their coffee. She prided herself on brewing a good cup.
At 6:00 a.m. she turned on all the lights, flipped the Closed sign to Open and unlocked the front door. Soon after, a black-and-white squad car pulled into the parking lot. An officer in a navy blue uniform emerged from the vehicle. The sight reminded her of Duane also, and she had other reasons to be nervous about lawmen, but she knew he wasn’t here for her. Cops liked coffee, too. They drank it at Walt’s for free.
“Morning,” he said, hunkering down on a bar stool.
She put a mug in front of him and filled it up. The cream and sugar was within reach. “Can I get you anything else?”
“Just this.”
Tala nodded and inched away. She felt the familiar urge to flee, so she grabbed a clean rag and started wiping down the counter. She didn’t strike up a conversation with him. She didn’t strike up conversations with anyone. She wasn’t the friendliest waitress. Walt always told her she’d get better tips if she smiled once in a while.
A few minutes later, three roughnecks strolled in. Truckers were their regular clientele, but the diner took all kinds. These men had the weathered look of loggers or oil riggers. Tough guys weren’t unusual in these parts, or where she was from. She’d been born on a land reserve in the Northwest Territories. She was no stranger to hardworking men.
She brought them three mugs and three menus, glad for the distraction. As she poured their coffee, she noticed one of the men exchanging a glance with the police officer. She got the odd feeling they knew each other.
“You need another minute to decide?” she asked.
The man closest to her had dirty blond hair and bloodshot eyes. His friends were dark-haired. One had a long, skinny face and a goatee. The other was stocky, with boyish freckles. “Three breakfast specials.”
She collected the menus. “Coming right up.”
The police officer watched her walk away from their table.
“Ready for a refill?” she asked him.
He checked his mug. “I’m good.”
She retreated to the kitchen and turned on the griddle. She considered waking up Walt. Something felt wrong to her, like a bad spirit. Men made her nervous, especially when she was working alone. She told herself it was just her imagination. Not her past, catching up to her.
Not Duane, coming to get her.
She took a deep breath and scrambled eggs. By the time she was finished with the sausages and toast, she’d regained her composure. She brought them their plates. They acted like normal men. The blond one looked her up and down as he bit into his toast. She’d been leered at before, so it didn’t faze her.
“More coffee?”
The boyish one nodded, shoveling food into his mouth. She refilled his mug, noting that he had a better appetite than his companions. He also seemed more relaxed.
“Anything else?” she asked.
The blond one smirked, as if he’d thought of a funny joke. She waited a beat before she walked away, aware of his gaze on her backside. Her waitress uniform was a basic blue dress with white tights and a white apron. She wore sensible shoes and scraped her hair into a bun at the nape of her neck. Some customers were disrespectful, but lewd behavior was rare. Most of the truckers who frequented the diner were old married men, not young bucks on the prowl. They didn’t bother her.
There was only one customer so far who’d caught her eye. He was quiet. Strong, but not a roughneck. He was young and fit, for a trucker. He tipped well and didn’t leer. He smiled even less than she did.
Tala got busy rearranging some pies in the refrigerated case. The police officer left, tossing a few coins by his empty mug. The three men finished their breakfasts soon after. They paid in cash and walked out. She frowned as she cleared their table. Only one of the plates was clean, which was odd. Roughnecks usually ate every bite. Shrugging, she dumped the contents in the trash. It was full, thanks to Walt’s late-night party.
She put on her jacket and picked up the trash, grabbing the keys on the way out. The dumpster was in the back corner of the parking lot. It had to be kept behind a wooden fence, because of bears. She hurried forward and unlocked the gate. Male voices carried on the wind, which whipped around her stocking-covered legs. It was still pitch-black outside, and the air smelled like snow. She hefted the trash into the receptacle. Then she heard a loud pop.
Gunfire.
Close-range, small-arms gunfire. She knew guns. Her dad had taught her how to shoot. Duane had been an enthusiast himself. The sound was unmistakable, and chilling. Hunching down, she peered around the fence to locate the source.
Light from the diner windows illuminated three figures in the parking lot, less than twenty feet away. The blond man who’d leered at her was holding a pistol. One of his breakfast companions was slumped on the ground. The policeman stood right next to the killer. His badge glinted like an evening star.
She ducked lower, smothering a sound of panic. She wanted to run, but she was afraid she’d be spotted.
Two men loaded the body into a car while the officer stood guard. He was watching the street with his back to her. He clearly had no idea she was there. She clapped a hand over her mouth, horrified. Someone slammed the trunk, and the officer turned around to speak. His face was angry.
“Take care of this mess,” he said, pointing at the diner. “All of it.”
The blond man’s reply was lost on the wind.
Tala stayed hidden, trembling with terror. The officer strode to his squad car and got in. After a short hesitation, the two men headed toward the diner’s front entrance. She glanced at the back door, which was still ajar. They’d come out and find her any moment.
She couldn’t breathe properly. She couldn’t blink. She felt like her eyeballs might freeze inside the sockets. The mental picture of her frozen corpse got her moving. The instinct to flee was impossible to ignore. She had to run, now. She leapt out from her hiding place and bolted across the parking lot. She tripped over the first cement parking block she encountered and went down hard. Gravel bit into her hands and knees. It hurt like hell, but she didn’t dwell on the pain. She got up and kept moving.
There was a truck stop on the other side of a wide-open space. She ran toward it, because there was nowhere else to go. Dogs barked in the distance. She couldn’t hear anyone following her, but she couldn’t hear anything except her pounding heart.
She enjoyed running, under normal circumstances. She’d been on the cross-country team in high school and college. She could run for miles without tiring.
She reached a group of big rigs—huge trucks with trailers. There were four or five in a row, sitting idle while the truckers rested inside the sleeper cab or somewhere else. She didn’t know what truckers did when they weren’t driving. Maybe they didn’t sleep. They were magical, mythical creatures.
She hid behind one of the trailers and tried to catch her breath. Her blood was half adrenaline. Her veins might burst from the overload. She was having trouble with her eyes again. Everything in her peripheral vision was fuzzy. It was as if fate had decided she only needed to see what was directly in front of her.
Ice Storm.
That was all she could see. A gray semi with decorative lettering on the door of the passenger side. Its engine purred like a tiger. Between the cab and the trailer, there was enough space for her body.
She swallowed hard. The diesel fumes made her light-headed. She had no idea where the killers were, or if they’d followed her. She could run to the nearest building and scream for help. Or she could stow away on Ice Storm.
She bit the edge of her thumbnail. If she ran away from the row of trucks, she’d be out in the open again. She didn’t know if she’d make it to safety. What if she got shot, or fell into the hands of that police officer?
She chose the Ice Storm.
Her knees shook as she squeezed into the narrow slot and crouched down behind the cab. There was a metal bar to cling to, and electrical wires to avoid. Beneath her feet, a thin metal plate. It was a dangerous place to ride, but she was desperate. She hoped the driver couldn’t see her back here. The last thing she needed was an interrogation. He might call the police or leave her stranded.
She’d stowed away in a semitruck before. The day she’d left Duane, she’d climbed inside a trailer at a gas station on the outskirts of Carcross. She’d expected to go south to British Columbia. Instead, the truck had traveled north. And that was how she’d ended up in Alaska, with no money and no documentation. She’d used a stolen ID to find work and rent a room. Her biggest fear up to this point had been Duane hunting her down and dragging her back home. Now she had a whole new set of problems. The men she was running from made her ex look like a choir boy.
She tightened her grip on the metal bar as the semi moved forward. The gravel lot turned into a gray blur. Then it was smooth asphalt. Soon they were heading north on the highway. With the increased speed came a chill that penetrated her thin stockings.
Her jacket was no joke, made for arctic weather. She zipped it up to the neck and pulled the fur-lined hood over her head. But her exposed hands started to tingle and her feet felt like blocks of ice. She told herself to endure the discomfort, even though it was acute. She had to stay hidden for as long as possible. She also had to stay conscious. If she drifted into a hypothermic state and fell into the road...
Well. That would be a fatal mistake.
She closed her eyes and summoned the strength of her ancestors. She had the blood of Yellowknife warriors flowing through her veins. Her people had thrived in polar climates, with no modern conveniences, for centuries. She could handle a little freezing wind.
She held on tight, determined to ride out the cold.

Chapter 2 (#u0ab8344d-c16a-5c50-a33b-12b9ae170066)
Cameron Hughes deliberated for at least ten minutes before he started the engine.
He hadn’t planned on going to Walt’s Diner. He’d been avoiding Walt’s Diner. To be specific, he’d been avoiding one particular waitress at Walt’s Diner. Which was ridiculous, because she’d never acted interested in him. She poured his coffee and took his order with brisk efficiency. She didn’t flirt. She didn’t even smile at him. There was no reason for him to keep his distance from her.
Although she’d done nothing to encourage him, he felt uncomfortable in her presence. Her cool manner and pretty face unsettled him. The last time he’d visited the diner, he’d found himself staring at her. He’d realized, with a surge of guilt, that he was attracted to her. And he’d decided not to go to Walt’s again.
This morning, he’d glanced across the parking lot and studied the neon sign in the diner’s front window. He’d imagined strolling in for breakfast. He knew what would happen. He’d avert his eyes when she approached, and let them linger as she retreated. He’d think of her at night, instead of Jenny. Cam studied the picture of his wife that was affixed to the dashboard. Jenny smiled back at him, not judging.
Shaking his head, he fired up the engine and prepared to leave. Maybe Jenny wanted him to move on, but he wasn’t ready.
He left the truck stop and headed north on the highway. He had a radio app with more music than he could ever listen to and several audiobooks on queue. He enjoyed mysteries and true crime. He liked stories about bad guys getting caught, and hard evidence that led to convictions. If only real life mimicked fiction.
He’d forgotten to select listening material for this leg of the trip, so he drove in silence. Some days he surfed through the CB channels to hear the latest trucker chatter. This morning he didn’t bother. There was light traffic and good weather. He concentrated on the lonely lanes before him, feeling restless. He needed a workout. He’d stop at the twenty-four-hour gym in Fairbanks. Hit the weights, jog a few miles.
Stretching his neck, he continued down the road. He’d gone about thirty miles when he heard a strange thump. He checked his mirrors and didn’t see anything. Maybe one of his tires had kicked up a chunk of asphalt. His gauges looked fine. He kept going. A few minutes later he heard another thump, along with a rattle.
What the hell?
It sounded like something was banging against the metal plate behind the cab. His mirrors didn’t give him a full view of the space. A loose piece of wiring wouldn’t make that noise. The rattling started again, and then stopped. When he reached a long straightaway, he pulled over, shifted into Neutral and engaged the brake. It was still dark, so he grabbed his flashlight before he climbed out.
First he checked the back of the trailer, which looked secure. It was locked up tight. He dropped down to his belly to shine his beam underneath the rig. The wheels were intact. He didn’t see anything amiss.
He got up and inspected the space behind the cab. To his surprise, he caught a glimpse of gray fur.
Wolf?
He blinked and his eyes adjusted, making sense of the shape.
Not a wolf. A woman.
Holy hell. There was a woman in his hitch space. A stowaway. He’d never had a stowaway before, and he’d never expected to see one here. Any hobo with a lick of sense would climb into the cab or the trailer. He kept his trailer locked, of course, and there was no way to get inside his cab unnoticed.
“Come out of there,” he said. “It’s not safe.”
The woman didn’t move. She was crouched down like a cornered animal, shivering violently.
He attempted a softer tone. “Come on out. I won’t hurt you.”
She didn’t respond. Maybe she didn’t speak English. It was difficult to judge her ethnicity because most of her face was hidden behind a fur-lined hood. She appeared to have dark eyes.
Cam turned off the flashlight and pocketed it. She’d been here since he left the truck stop, or earlier. She might be hypothermic, unable to move. He reached into the space with both hands. She leaned sideways in a feeble attempt to escape his touch. He captured her arm and pulled her toward him. She didn’t fight, but she didn’t cooperate, either. He had to drag her out of the narrow space. As soon as she was free, she crumpled to the ground. Her legs were ghost-white. Other than the gray parka, she wasn’t dressed for the weather.
With a muttered curse, he scooped her into his arms. She was tall and slender, but heavy. He carried her toward his open door and climbed the kick-step, grunting from exertion. He skirted around the driver’s chair and deposited her in the passenger seat.
Now what?
He grabbed a wool blanket from his supplies to cover her trembling body. She had on white stockings, ripped at both knees. The sight triggered his memory. He knew those legs. Startled, he lifted his gaze to her face.
It was her. The waitress from Walt’s Diner. The one he had a crush on, and had vowed to steer clear of.
He spread the blanket over her legs and retreated, rubbing his jaw. In any other circumstances, he’d call the police and let them handle the matter. He was reluctant to take that step with this woman. She wasn’t a stranger. He knew her. She clutched the edges of the blanket in a tight grip, still shivering. His first instinct was to help her, not report her.
He closed his door and cranked up the heat. Then he removed his jacket, placing it over her lap to add another layer of warmth. He didn’t think her condition was life-threatening, but it concerned him. “Do you need to go to a hospital?”
She shook her head, vehement.
After a short hesitation, he put the truck in gear and pulled forward. He couldn’t leave her on the side of the road, so he might as well drive. He monitored her progress as he continued north. She shivered less and less. Some of the color returned to her cheeks. Her grip on the blanket relaxed and her expression softened. No smile, but that wasn’t unusual or unexpected, given the circumstances. The only drink he had was lukewarm tea. When he offered it to her, she accepted the cup and took an experimental sip.
“You work at Walt’s.”
She seemed surprised that he recognized her. But every trucker who’d been to Walt’s would have recognized her. There was chatter about her on the radio. Pretty young things were rare in the frigid interior.
“Why did you stow away in my truck?”
“I needed a ride,” she said, passing back his mug. She inspected the palms of her hands, which were scraped raw.
“You’re hurt.”
She hid her hands under the blanket. “I’m fine. I just tripped and fell.”
Cam knew she wasn’t telling him the whole story. She wouldn’t climb aboard his rig and risk serious injury for no reason. She was either lying, or crazy, or scared to death. He guessed it was the latter, and his protective instincts went into overdrive. “Are you running from someone?”
She glanced into the side mirror, as if searching for a bogeyman.
He checked the highway. It was dark and deserted. “Maybe I should call the police.”
“No,” she said in a choked voice. “Please.”
“Why not?”
“If you don’t want to give me a ride, let me out. I’ll walk.”
He gave her an incredulous look. She’d rather freeze than contact the authorities? “The nearest town is thirty miles away.”
“I can hitchhike.”
“Are you in trouble?”
She stared out the window again. Her eyes welled up with tears, but she blinked them away quickly. She had a stubborn chin, bold brows and a soft mouth that reminded him of tulips. Her upper lip had a distinctive bow formation, like two little triangles.
With a frown, he returned his attention to the road. He needed to concentrate on driving, not her mouth. He didn’t care if she’d robbed a bank, or vandalized Walt’s Diner. He wasn’t going to leave her out in the cold.
“Are you a cop?” she asked finally.
He drummed his fingertips against the wheel. “Do I look like a cop?”
“You don’t look like a truck driver.”
“I’m not a cop,” he said, raking a hand through his hair. Not anymore. He’d abandoned his career in law enforcement a few months after Jenny died. He’d stopped believing in justice. He’d lost faith in himself.
An uncomfortable silence stretched between them. Her defensiveness could be an indication of guilt, or another manifestation of fear. He didn’t ask any more questions. He knew from experience that aggressive interrogations made victims clam up. But it didn’t matter, because he wasn’t getting involved. Her problems were none of his business.
“I’ve seen you at the diner,” she said.
He cleared his throat. “Yeah?”
“You order the veggie omelet and wheat toast. Black coffee.”
He was surprised she remembered him. He’d only been in the diner a handful of times. The idea that he’d made an impression on her appealed to him. She tugged off her parka, revealing some other things that appealed to him.
Cam pulled his gaze away from her. She was an enticing package, with her slender figure and lovely face. Her presence in his cab felt like an electric charge. He couldn’t prevent the rush of warmth that suffused him every time their eyes met.
He’d been alone on the road too long.
“Where are you headed?” she asked.
“North,” he said shortly.
“Fairbanks?”
“For starters.”
“Can I come with you?”
The temperature inside the cab had gone from toasty to sweltering. Cam turned down the heat, contemplative. He’d never picked up a hitchhiker before. He’d seen his share of “lot lizards” in the lower 48. They were hard-looking women, desperate for hard-up men. Nothing like this fresh beauty beside him.
She waited for his answer in silence.
“I’ll take you to Fairbanks,” he said, against his better judgment. He knew it was the wrong choice. She needed help, beyond a simple ride north, and he couldn’t give it to her. He had nothing left to give. “From there you’re on your own.”
“Thank you,” she said stiffly. “I appreciate it.”
He made a noncommittal sound and fell silent. It was a long drive to Fairbanks, and he didn’t intend on passing the time with idle chitchat. He couldn’t remember how to engage a woman in conversation. The less she spoke, the easier it would be to ignore her. He could keep his mind—and his eyes—on the road.
A part of him wanted to look at her. A part of him wanted to do more than look. He’d been living like a monk for three years. He’d isolated himself in Alaska for a reason. He’d abandoned every comfort, including female company. He couldn’t imagine dating again. He almost couldn’t imagine a single night of pleasure.
Almost.
He knew she wasn’t offering. She wasn’t a lot lizard, and he didn’t prey on vulnerable women, regardless. The man he used to be, the man who’d been a good husband and conscientious police officer, would never have considered taking advantage of her desperation. The man he’d become was numb. He had no moral high ground. He was a shadow of his former self, frozen in grief. He suddenly longed for some release from the monotony of his existence. He longed for human touch.
He glanced at Jenny’s smiling picture on his dashboard. Her guileless expression never changed. She wouldn’t have approved of his reclusive lifestyle or his current predicament. But she was dead, and had no say in the matter. He moved his gaze to the windswept lanes ahead. His heart felt like a stone inside his chest. He didn’t say anything to put his passenger at ease. He just kept driving, into darkness.

Chapter 3 (#u0ab8344d-c16a-5c50-a33b-12b9ae170066)
Tala regretted asking him if he was a cop.
She should have just shut up and let him drive. He’d threatened to call the police, but he hadn’t picked up his phone or CB. He hadn’t pulled over and told her to get out. He’d questioned her safety, like any conscientious person would, and she’d panicked.
She couldn’t tell him what happened at the diner. He’d take her to the nearest police station and insist that she report the crime. She had no intentions of falling into that trap. No, she was going to run until she felt secure.
Running was what she did. It was what she knew.
She slunk lower in the passenger seat, feeling nauseated. She wished she’d never come to Alaska. She wished she hadn’t fled Canada like a thief in the night. Now she was in a bind, and she had no idea how to get out.
She snuck another glimpse at the man behind the wheel. She hadn’t lied when she’d said he didn’t look like a trucker. There was something different about him, beyond his handsome face. She couldn’t put her finger on what. He was rugged and outdoorsy enough to fit in with the locals. He wore flannel shirts and steel-toed boots. He had dark brown hair that curled around his collar and a well-trimmed beard that suited his features. She got the impression that he didn’t smile or laugh much. He had thickly lashed, soulful brown eyes.
He was built more like a logger than a trucker. His broad shoulders and lean physique added to his appeal. He looked stronger than most homesteaders. He could even pass for one of those elite mountain climbers who came to summit Denali. He was a man in his prime. He was also married. He wore a plain gold wedding band on his left hand. She hadn’t noticed it when he’d visited the diner.
The diner. A fresh wave of memories assaulted her. She could never go back there. Thoughts of Walt trickled in, making her heart clench. She hadn’t stopped to consider the danger to him. He’d been asleep inside the office. What if those men had shot him? Guilt and shame and fear struck all at once, overwhelming her.
“What’s your name?” the driver asked.
“Tala.”
“Tala? Is that Native American?”
In her distress, she’d forgotten to lie about her name. She’d been Abigail Burgess for the past six months. She massaged her forehead, wincing. “We don’t say Native American in Canada.”
“What do you say?”
“First Nations.”
“First Nations,” he repeated, glancing at her. “You’re from Canada?”
She nodded. Now that she’d screwed up, she might as well be honest. “I was born in Yellowknife.”
“They have ice roads in Yellowknife.”
“Yes.”
“Have you been on them?”
“No. Have you?”
“I’ve always wanted to. I’ve been on the Dalton, which has an ice road section near Prudhoe Bay.”
She hadn’t realized he was an ice-road trucker. Maybe that was why he reminded her of a mountain climber. Both endeavors required nerves of steel. Only the most daring truckers would drive over a layer of ice with arctic waters flowing underneath.
“I’m Cam, by the way. Cameron Hughes.”
“Nice to meet you,” she said automatically. It felt odd to have a normal conversation after what she’d been through. “Where are you from?”
“Tacoma, Washington.”
“When did you come to Alaska?”
“Three years ago. I needed to...get away.”
She could relate. Unless he meant he needed to get away from his responsibilities. Maybe he’d left a wife and children behind. He didn’t seem like the deadbeat-dad type, but she didn’t know him. She couldn’t judge his personality on polite manners and generous tips. His nice-guy vibe could be deceiving. After Duane, she didn’t trust easily.
The short exchange ended, revealing the extent of his curiosity about her. She was relieved by his disinterest. She didn’t want to talk.
The sun rose over the horizon as they continued north on the highway. Warm rays penetrated her window. A few hours ago, she’d been convinced she was going to freeze to death. It had been unbearably cold in that dark space. She’d pounded her fist on the cab for help. If he hadn’t pulled over to investigate, she might have died.
She moved her gaze to the side mirror. She didn’t think they were being followed. The road behind them was clear. The killers must not have seen her flee. She was safe—for now. Thanks to Cam, she was warm and dry.
She folded his jacket and set it aside. Then she removed the blanket. Her stockings were ruined, her knees scraped. She had bits of gravel embedded in her skin. Her palms were raw, too. She needed to wash up.
“I have a first aid kit in the glove compartment. There’s a toilet in the back. Make yourself at home.”
She glanced over her shoulder. There was a narrow bunk and a mini-fridge in the berth. “Do you sleep here?”
“When I have to.”
With his long legs and rangy build, he didn’t look like he’d fit. She rose to her feet and ventured into the space. A sliding door led to a closet-sized bathroom. It was cramped, but clean. She washed her hands at the sink before inspecting herself in the mirror. Her hair had come loose from the bun. She combed her fingers through the tangled strands to smooth the disarray. Then she returned to the front of the cab. Taking a deep breath, she helped herself to the contents of the first aid kit. After she cleaned the minor wounds with alcohol, she applied antibiotic ointment and stuck on some bandages.
“There are drinks in the fridge,” he said. “And sandwiches.”
She grabbed a bottled water. “Do you want something?”
“I’m good.”
He drove for several hours without speaking. It felt odd to sit next to a stranger in complete silence, but she made no attempt at small talk. Sharing personal information with him seemed unwise.
She felt self-conscious in his presence. She wished he wasn’t so handsome. She couldn’t pretend she hadn’t noticed his rugged good looks, and the last thing she wanted to do was get caught staring. Many truckers, even the married ones, wouldn’t hesitate to proposition a female hitchhiker. Cam hadn’t given any indication that he expected sexual favors from her. He didn’t have a creepy-predator vibe. She sat very still and tried not to imagine the worst.
He gestured to the radio. “You can change the station if you like. Or I have audiobooks.”
“Audiobooks?”
“Books on tape.”
She nodded her understanding. There was a device plugged into his port. She picked it up and browsed the files. A Stieg Larsson book was at the top of the queue. The other options were horror, murder mysteries and true crime. Disturbing stories of violence and mayhem.
“Is this what serial killers listen to?”
He frowned at the question.
“Sorry,” she said awkwardly. “That was a joke.”
He changed gears, glancing her direction. “I guess my selections are pretty stark.”
“They’re fine.”
“I choose books that will help me stay awake. It’s a trucker trick.”
She set aside the device. “I’ve never listened to an audiobook. I don’t think they make them for the books I like.”
“Why not?”
“I read graphic novels. They have pictures.” She flushed at the admission, as if it was something to be ashamed of. Duane always said her “comics” weren’t real books. But Duane never read anything, so what did he know?
“Where do you get graphic novels?”
“I’ve bought a few at a used bookstore, but they’re hard to find. In Canada, I checked them out from the library. I don’t have a card here.”
“How long have you been in Alaska?”
“Six months.”
He didn’t ask her why she’d come. She wouldn’t have told him.
“What’s Canada like?”
“Cold.”
He smiled at her answer. “Were you a waitress there, too?”
“I was before I got married.”
“You’re married?”
She searched his face for judgment and found none. “It didn’t work out.”
“Is he the one you’re running from?”
“None of your business.”
A muscle in his jaw ticked with displeasure, but he dropped the subject. She crossed her arms over her chest to hide her trembling hands. Although she wasn’t naturally meek or shy, she’d learned to avoid conflict with men. She’d managed to escape Duane and his hair-trigger temper. This morning, she’d stumbled into more danger. Witnessing a murder hadn’t improved her opinion of strangers. She half expected Cam to lash out at her.
When he didn’t, she released a slow breath. Her first instinct was to apologize again, but she squelched it. They had to establish some boundaries. Certain topics were off-limits. She couldn’t tell him why she was running.
To his credit, Cam took her prickly attitude in stride. He didn’t interrogate her further. He continued driving, steady as a rock. He didn’t exceed the speed limit or take unnecessary risks. They entered Denali State Park, which offered spectacular views. She looked out the window and watched the rugged landscape pass by.
They stopped for lunch around noon. Cam gave her a sandwich and a drink from the mini-fridge. Then he put on his jacket and went outside to check his load. She was surprised by how hungry she was. She bit into the sandwich with relish.
He came in from the cold, his cheeks ruddy, and they hit the road again. He ate his sandwich on a long straightaway.
Tala thought about the last man who’d given her a sandwich: Walt. He’d always been kind to her. The day she’d walked into his diner, he’d hired her on the spot. He’d fed her and offered her some pocket money at the end of the shift. His generosity reminded her that there were good men in the world. Men like her father, who’d raised her to be strong, to fight back, to take care of herself. She wondered if he’d have been disappointed in her, had he lived.
Cam seemed like a good man. Maybe a little too good, with his healthy eating habits and unflappable demeanor. It occurred to her that he might call the police after they parted ways. If something had happened to Walt, Cam would hear about it. He’d want to help. He would tell them everything. Her name, birthplace, nationality. It was more than enough information to identify her. She’d fled the scene of a crime. She could be arrested just for that.
Trying not to panic, she nibbled the edge of her thumbnail. Maybe he wouldn’t go to the authorities. He was a trucker, not a Boy Scout. She sensed a certain amount of detachment in him, which made sense for a married man who wanted to stay true to his wife. He was giving Tala a ride to Fairbanks, nothing more. When they got there, she was on her own. She had no idea what she’d do.
She didn’t know anyone in Alaska, other than Walt, her landlady and her coworkers. She had no family here. She hadn’t seen her mother in years. She’d been closer to her father, who’d died almost a decade ago. She still missed him.
Blinking away fresh tears, she pushed her anxieties aside and focused on the present. There were majestic mountains in the distance. She hadn’t seen much of the state in her short time here. She’d passed by Denali once on her way toward Anchorage. It was a sight to behold, immense and breathtaking.
Her father had been an avid outdoorsman. He’d shared his love of the land with her. Traveling through this beautiful country reminded her of him. Live simply, he’d always said. Take only what you need.
She closed her eyes and held those thoughts for as long as she could. When she opened them, she was strong again.

Chapter 4 (#u0ab8344d-c16a-5c50-a33b-12b9ae170066)
Fairbanks, AK65N2 degrees
It wasn’t a pleasant drive from Denali.
Another rig had jackknifed on the icy road before McKinley Peak, causing a major pileup. Traffic was stopped for miles in both directions. There was no way around the wreck, no alternative route. Cam had to sit and wait for several hours. Tala didn’t complain about the delay. She didn’t say a word. The sun set early and daylight faded. They reached the outskirts of Fairbanks in the evening hours.
“Where should I drop you off?” he asked.
“Anywhere is fine.”
He didn’t feel right about abandoning her on a street corner. It was getting late. “You have family around here?”
“No.”
“Friends?”
“I can get by on my own.”
He wanted to ask how, even though it was none of his business. She appeared to have no belongings, other than a serviceable parka and a cheap waitress uniform. She wasn’t carrying a purse or backpack. If she stood out in the cold, she’d get another ride. That much was certain. Someone would pick her up. Someone with ill intentions, most likely.
“I’ll find work.”
“What kind of work?”
Her eyes narrowed at the question. “Not the kind you think.”
“You need a change of clothes before you go job-hunting.”
She fingered the torn fabric at her knees, sighing.
“I don’t want to leave you on the side of the road.”
“I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about it.”
That was the problem: he was worried about it. He’d assumed a certain amount of responsibility for her when he’d agreed to give her a ride. He’d decided not to call the police, against his better judgment. Now he couldn’t just walk away. He was standing between her and danger, whether he liked it or not. He felt obligated to see her off safely. If he didn’t, he’d think about her all night. He’d obsess over worst-case scenarios. He’d imagine her climbing into a stranger’s car. Or freezing to death.
He hadn’t been able to save Jenny, and he’d never recovered from the loss. The helplessness. The soul-crushing futility.
He didn’t have to save Tala, per se, but he could at least offer her shelter for the night. He could give her a few bucks for clothes in the morning. She could find a job tomorrow. She was young and resourceful. She’d survive. It was no hardship for him to dig into his pockets, and it might make all the difference in the world for her. A minimal cost and effort on his part could keep her from doing something desperate.
“Are you hungry?” he asked.
She moistened her lips, not answering.
“I have to deliver this load first. Then we can grab some dinner.”
“You don’t have to buy me dinner.”
“I know.”
Her eyes narrowed with suspicion. “Why are you being so nice to me?”
“Not the reason you think.”
“No?”
“No.”
She crossed her arms over her chest, still wary. “What would your wife say about this?”
He gave her a puzzled look. “My wife?”
“Aren’t you married?”
“No.”
“You’re wearing a wedding ring.”
He rubbed the band on his left hand absently. He’d forgotten it was there. “I’m not married anymore.”
“What happened?”
“She died.”
Her lips parted in surprise. Then her features softened with sympathy. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay,” he said, clearing his throat. Saying the words out loud wasn’t easy, even after three years, but he’d learned to swallow the pain. Then the numbness returned to his chest and he could breathe again.
Maybe Tala felt sorry for him, because she didn’t reject his dinner offer. He continued to the stockyard to deliver the trailer. He’d get a new load tomorrow morning before he traveled north on the Dalton. The Dalton Highway was both his savior and his nemesis. The route wasn’t for the faint of heart. It was a death-defying stretch of snowpack, black ice and whiteouts, with avalanche-prone areas and roller-coaster turns. He relished every mile.
He’d come to Alaska to be an ice-road trucker. Nothing else got his blood pumping like the Dalton. There was nothing more exciting, more addictive, or more life-affirming. Except maybe sex. It had been so long since he’d had any, he couldn’t quite remember. He’d stayed true to Jenny’s memory. He still wasn’t ready to move on.
He hadn’t lied to Tala about his intentions. He wasn’t being nice to her in hopes of getting laid. She was incredibly attractive, but he couldn’t imagine hooking up with her. Even if he was in the market for female company, she wasn’t an appropriate choice for a one-night stand. She’d had a close call this morning. She was on the run from someone. She needed protection, not seduction.
He unloaded the trailer and returned to the cab, invigorated by the chill in the air. It was perfect ice-road weather, with temperatures dropping below zero. He climbed into the driver’s seat and pulled out of the yard.
There was a good burger joint off the main drag, so Cam headed in that direction. It was crowded with customers, despite the late hour. Tala kept her hood on as they entered the building. She chose a back booth in the corner, glancing around warily. Cam knew they hadn’t been followed from Willow. He’d checked his rearview mirror at regular intervals. He figured her skittishness was a side effect of past trauma, not an indication of current danger, but he made a point to stay alert.
The waitress arrived quickly. He ordered a salmon burger, iced tea and french fries. Tala asked for chicken strips and a strawberry soda. After the food was delivered, he offered her some of his fries, because he had a mountain of them.
“You like to eat healthy,” she said, grabbing a fry.
“I do.”
“That seems unusual, for a trucker.”
“I grew up on a farm in upstate Washington. My parents made me learn about sustainable agriculture and organic produce. We ate food we grew ourselves.” He shrugged, picking up his salmon burger. “It stayed with me.”
She nodded her understanding. “We ate food my dad caught.”
“Was he a fisherman?”
“He did a little bit of everything. Fishing, trapping, hunting. It was hard in the winter, but we got by.”
Cam swallowed the bite he’d taken. “You lived off the land exclusively?”
“Yes.”
He couldn’t hide his surprise. He thought his childhood had been atypical. Eating fresh farm produce instead of junk food was nothing compared to eking out a meager existence in the Northwest Territories.
“He died when I was sixteen. He was only forty at the time.”
“Jesus,” Cam said.
“He had a good life,” she said. “Short, but not wasted.”
“Is that what you want?”
She shook her head. “I’d rather take after my grandmother. She lived to be eighty. She used to say my dad used up all of his spirit in half the time because he never sat still. He never stopped working.”
“How old are you?”
“Twenty-five. You?”
“Thirty-four,” he said gruffly.
“That’s a good age,” she said, grabbing another fry.
Cam tried not to be captivated by her, and failed. She had a slight accent that sounded woodsy and pleasant to his ears. She was interesting, as well as beautiful. A wave of sexual awareness washed over him, heating his blood and kicking up his pulse. He felt mildly alarmed by his response to her. He needed to pump the brakes, and stop asking so many personal questions. This wasn’t a date.
She stuck a straw in her soda bottle and took a sip, drawing his attention to her mouth. Tulips in spring.
“What about you?” she asked.
“What about me?”
“Would you rather have a short life or a long one?”
He made a noncommittal sound and kept eating.
“You’re an ice-road trucker, so I’m guessing short. Then again, you eat healthy and take care of your body.” Her gaze traveled over him. “You work out, right?”
He flushed at her perusal. “I don’t work out to live longer.”
“No?”
“I sit in a truck all day. I’d get stir-crazy if I didn’t exercise.”
“It’s not natural to spend so much time inside a vehicle.”
Cam couldn’t argue there. The lack of activity didn’t bother some truckers. They each had their own vices. Chain-smoking and snacking were common ways to stay awake. The long hours of limited movement were difficult, but it was part of the job. He embraced the restrictions as much as the freedoms. He relished the danger and the solitude. He hadn’t become a trucker to take it easy. He’d done it to disconnect with the rest of the world, and from himself.
He also didn’t exercise just to combat inactivity. He did it to assuage his grief, to punish himself for living, and to sleep at night. The more grueling the workout, the better. He’d become obsessive. He’d made an effort to cut down last year, after pulling a muscle in his thigh. Overdoing it wasn’t healthy, either.
They were almost finished eating when a pair of uniformed officers walked in. Cam watched them dispassionately, reminded of his former self. Tala rose from the table after the officers paused at the front counter.
“I have to go to the bathroom,” she said.
Cam paid the check while she was gone. The waitress came and went. So did the police officers, who ordered their coffee to go. Cam drummed his fingertips against the table. It dawned on him that Tala had taken her parka with her, which was odd.
He wondered if she’d ditched him. It wouldn’t be a big shock. She’d wanted a ride to Fairbanks, and here they were.
Curious, he went looking for her. The women’s restroom was at the end of the hall. An emergency exit on the opposite side of the restaurant offered the only escape. He paused outside the door, listening for a moment. Then he pushed it open. There were two stalls and two sinks under a big mirror. “Tala?”
No answer. Just a sharp intake of breath.
He waited another beat. “The officers are gone, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“I’ll be right out.”
Frowning to himself, he shut the door. What had he gotten himself into? It was one thing to risk death on the ice roads, quite another to risk arrest by harboring a female fugitive.
She emerged from the bathroom a second later, feigning innocence. They walked into the night together and approached his rig. He glanced in her direction, noting she was tight-mouthed and ghost-pale. He didn’t ask her why she’d been hiding from the police. She probably wouldn’t tell him, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to know. He couldn’t afford to get wrapped up in whatever trouble she was in. He had to leave tomorrow.
She paused in the parking lot, her breaths visible in the frozen air. “Thank you.”
“I haven’t done anything.”
“You’ve done a lot. I won’t forget it.”
He realized she was trying to say goodbye. He shook his head in protest. “Come with me. I know where we can stay for free.”
“Where?”
“Ann’s Cabins.”
“Why is it free?”
“I split wood for her every time I’m in Fairbanks. We trade services.”
She searched his face for hints of deception. He was stretching the truth a little. Ann gave him a discount, but he hardly ever stayed at the cabins. He split wood because he liked doing it, not because he cared about saving money.
“Are we trading services, too?” she asked.
He laughed, rubbing a hand over his mouth. Then he realized it was a serious question. She wanted to know what he expected of her, and she was smart to be cautious. Very few men would offer her a bed without intending to share it.
He held her gaze. “No. We’re not.”
She stared at him with undisguised curiosity. “Why are you helping me?”
An icy fist of grief squeezed around his heart. He couldn’t answer her question honestly. He couldn’t bear to talk about Jenny and his inability to save her. He opened his passenger door. “I didn’t bring you in from the cold just to let you freeze somewhere else.”
She didn’t appear satisfied with the response, but she climbed inside his truck. She must have trusted him more than another stranger. The next trucker she met might not be a gentleman. He might demand sexual favors in exchange for a ride. If she said no, he could leave her stranded on the side of the road. Or worse.
Cam got behind the wheel and started the engine. Ann’s was within walking distance of a major shopping center. Tala could rest tonight and look for work tomorrow.
The cabins were quaint and secluded. Romantic, even. Although it wasn’t a trucker hangout, it was known to truckers because the owner was a trucker’s widow. Her husband had died on the Dalton a few years ago, in an avalanche. Cam had heard chatter about it on the CB last winter. The truckers pitched in to help Ann with odd jobs. One of them said she needed someone to chop firewood for her. Cam had jumped at the task.
Turning off the main drag, he drove toward the cabins. He parked in the back of the lot and went inside the office while Tala waited in the truck.
The front desk was empty, so he rang the bell. Ann came out to greet him. She reminded him of Mrs. Claus, with her round-framed glasses and curly white hair. “If it isn’t my woodcutter,” she said with a smile. “How’s the season going?”
“It’s good. I’m keeping busy.”
“Have you been on the haul road?”
“I’m heading that way tomorrow.”
“You be careful out there.”
“I will.”
She toggled the mouse on her computer to check him in. “The only cabin left is a double. My singles are under remodel, so they’re all closed.”
He took out his wallet, considering. Would Tala stay with him in one room?
“I’ll give you a double for the single price, if it’s just you.”
His neck heated with embarrassment. “I have a guest, actually.”
Ann gave him his discount and handed him the key. If she was curious about his companion, she was discreet enough to pretend otherwise. “Ring me if you need anything,” she said, winking.
He left the office and approached cabin 4, which was at the end of the first row. He opened the door and turned on the lights. It was a cozy room with two beds, a fireplace and a bathroom. Tala got out of his truck and walked across the parking lot, her parka hood obscuring most of her face. She didn’t object to the sleeping arrangements. Maybe she hadn’t anticipated having her own space. He followed her inside, his heart racing.
She sat down on the far bed. She bounced on the mattress to test its firmness. “This is nice.”
Cam glanced around for something else to look at. His gaze settled on the fireplace. There was a bin full of logs he’d split. The evidence of his last good deed unsettled him. He crouched down to build a fire with shaking hands. He didn’t know what he was so nervous about. They were here to sleep, nothing more. He wasn’t going to touch her. Even if he was capable of a clumsy seduction attempt, which he doubted, he wouldn’t try anything. He might be numb and emotionless, but he wasn’t a liar. He’d given her his word.
She stood, shrugging out of her parka. “I’m going to take a shower.”
He watched her disappear into the bathroom. She locked the door behind her with a click. He turned his attention back to the fire. When he had it blazing, he got up and dusted off his hands. Then he moved to the far corner of the room, by the window. There were logs stacked up near the chopping block. He considered going outside to split wood. Tala might appreciate the privacy. He turned his attention to the bathroom door, picturing her naked. Wet, dark hair. Warm, soap-slick skin.
His blood thickened with arousal. He could feel that, if nothing else. He was still capable of desire. He scrubbed a hand over his eyes, but the images didn’t cease. He was ten steps away from a nude woman. He could hear the water running, streaming over her body. Erotic thoughts filled his head, fantasies and memories combined. He remembered how it felt to join a lady in the shower. To lift her up against the tiles and take her. To drink water droplets from her skin.
His hands curled into fists and his groin tightened to a painful degree. He didn’t know what to do, or where to look. Staring out the window didn’t help. It was as if his brain had short-circuited from the sensory overload. He was afraid she’d emerge from the bathroom and see him standing there with an erection.
He sat down on the edge of the mattress, his heart pounding. He tried to think unsexy thoughts, but it was no use. He was too wound up. He took deep breaths, fists clenching and unclenching. Unfortunately, his arousal didn’t ebb. He’d denied himself pleasure too long. His body was staging a full-on revolt. He needed to get out of here.
Springing to his feet, he walked outside, into the frigid air. He gulped it into his lungs, staring at the clear night sky. It was bracingly cold. He felt better. He wanted to stretch his legs, so he started jogging. He did a few laps around the neighborhood, his breaths puffing out in the black night.
After he regained control of his body, his thoughts cleared. He returned to the chopping block outside their cabin. There was a stack of heavy logs beneath a covered awning. The ax was in the shed. He placed a log on the stump and brought the ax down, splitting it in one strike. He repeated the process over and over, until his mind was numb.

Chapter 5 (#u0ab8344d-c16a-5c50-a33b-12b9ae170066)
Tala ducked into the bathroom and locked the door.
Even though Cam had made it clear that he didn’t expect her to sleep with him, she couldn’t stop her heart from racing. She shouldn’t have come here. Now she felt trapped. She was at his mercy.
What if he made a pass at her? He might think she was fair game for a one-night stand, despite his reassurances. The poor guy’s wife had died. He was lonely. He was young and strong and healthy. It was only natural for him to seek out female company, and he liked her. She could see it in his eyes. When his gaze settled on her, awareness sizzled done her spine. Because she liked him, too.
She studied her anxious expression in the mirror, feeling conflicted. She wished she’d asked him to take her to the airport. She could have spent the night on the benches. It wouldn’t have been comfortable, but she’d endured worse. At the airport, there were multiple exits. If she needed to, she could run.
Cam wasn’t holding her against her will, of course. She’d agreed to stay with him. She didn’t think he was a physical threat. It wasn’t so much that she was afraid of him. She was afraid of men, period. She was afraid of letting down her guard, and of getting attached. She hadn’t escaped Duane to become reliant on another man. She couldn’t make that mistake again. She had to take care of herself before she could feel safe with anyone else.
She turned away from the mirror and stripped off her clothes. As she stepped into the shower, memories from this morning crept up on her. She started shivering again, even though the water was piping hot. When she closed her eyes, she imagined the scene in the parking lot. Blood spraying from the gunshot wound, spreading from the body in a dark circle. She scrubbed at her skin, as if the trauma had sullied her.
After she rinsed off, she felt lightheaded and slightly nauseated. She stepped out of the stall, wrapping a towel around her body. She didn’t have anything to wear besides her uniform, which wouldn’t double as pajamas. Her tights were ruined, so she tossed them in the trash. Then she washed her underwear in the sink. They were nylon, so they’d dry by morning. She hung them on the hook behind the door.
She was reluctant to leave the bathroom without clothes on, but whatever. She’d have to climb into bed in her towel. Maybe Cam wouldn’t notice. Maybe he wasn’t that interested. She’d been told she was pretty often enough, but she’d also been told otherwise. Duane had yelled at her to shut her ugly mouth, or move her skinny ass. She didn’t think she was ugly, and she definitely wasn’t skinny, but his criticism had eroded her self-confidence.
Tension welled up inside her. A part of her wanted Cam to find her attractive. She just didn’t want him to do anything about it. She hoped he wouldn’t consider her near nudity a sign of encouragement.
Taking a deep breath, she opened the door and ventured out. She tried not to worry about Cam’s reaction, or overestimate her appeal. With her tangled hair and skinned knees, she wasn’t some irresistible femme fatale. He might not look twice at her.
As it turned out, Cam didn’t look once. Because he wasn’t there.
She clutched the towel to her chest, bewildered. He must have gone outside. There was no reason to run for cover now, so she stood in front of the fireplace. It was crackling with new flames, bright and warm. If Cam didn’t return, she’d spend the night in the cabin and figure out her next step in the morning. She’d have to look for work at another café or diner. While she finger-combed her hair, letting it dry, she became aware of a familiar sound. Someone was splitting wood. She approached the window and peeked through the curtains.
It was Cam. He swung the ax in powerful strokes, bringing it down hard. When he had a nice stack of split pieces, he carried them to the shed. Then he started over. He set a punishing pace, his brow furrowed. She didn’t know what demons were inside him, or why he worked so hard for physical release, but she enjoyed watching him. His strength was impressive and his tortured-soul expression captivated her imagination. She assumed he was still grieving. He was still in love with his late wife. That was why he didn’t want to “trade services” with Tala. That was why he seemed so detached and alone.
She left the window, her heart heavy, and sat down to fix her hair. She made two braids and secured the tails. She hadn’t worn her hair like this since she’d left Canada. She hadn’t wanted to look Indian while she was hiding out in Alaska, but she was proud of her heritage. The blood of her ancestors flowed strong and true inside her. Unlike her self-esteem, it could never be weakened or changed. It could never be beaten.
Cam came in from the cold, breathing hard. His face was flushed from exertion. He had a duffel bag in his hands. He did a quick scan of her towel-clad form. Then he unzipped the bag and took out a red-checked flannel. He thrust it at her, averting his gaze. “You can wear this to sleep in.”
She accepted the shirt with gratitude.
“I’m going to shower,” he muttered, and ducked into the bathroom.
After the door closed, she brought the flannel to her nose and inhaled. It smelled nice, like cozy man and laundry detergent. She put on the shirt, securing the buttons. Then she climbed into bed and stared up at the log-beam ceiling. Her thoughts whirled around and around before settling on the obvious. She pictured Cam naked in a soapy lather. She wondered if he was hard-muscled all over, or if he carried most of his strength in his arms. Was he hairy, with a thick pelt on his chest to match his beard? Maybe he had ugly feet. She smiled at the thought. Surely he had flaws. He was just a man like any other.
When he emerged from the bathroom, she had to revise her opinion. He was shirtless, in a pair of gray sweatpants. She couldn’t find a single imperfection. Splitting wood had brought his muscles into sharp definition. His shoulders were broad, his stomach tight. His biceps looked as hard and crisp as McIntosh apples. The smattering of hair across his chest didn’t qualify as a pelt, but it added to his rugged masculinity.
He turned off the lights and headed toward the other bed, ignoring her. She watched him get settled under the blankets. They were quiet for several moments. She listened to the wood crackle and pop in the fireplace.
It became clear that he wasn’t going to try to climb into bed with her. She didn’t have to worry about him demanding sexual favors in exchange for the ride to Fairbanks. Maybe she’d mistaken simple kindness for desire on his part.
Maybe he didn’t want her.
She should have been relieved by his decency. She could relax now that she knew where she stood with him. For some reason, she felt sad and restless. Although she was exhausted, sleep wouldn’t come.
She turned toward him in the dark. The light from the fire didn’t reach his face. Although she couldn’t see his features, she sensed his tension. The reason for it eluded her. He hadn’t seemed anxious before they entered the cabin. Something had triggered him. While she showered, he’d gone outside to chop wood in a frenzy. “Are you awake?”
“No,” he said in a clipped tone.
She smiled at his curt response.
“Do you need something?” he asked.
“I don’t want to bother you.”
“I don’t mind.”
“What happened to your wife?”
He paused for so long she thought he wasn’t going to answer. Then he said, “She was in an accident. Hit-and-run. They rushed her to the hospital and tried to save her. She was in a coma for a few months.”
“She never woke up?”
“No. She didn’t.”
Her heart constricted with sadness. “I’m sorry.”
He didn’t say anything.
“Is that why you came to Alaska?”
“Yes.”
“You needed to get away from the bad memories.”
He shifted on the mattress, seeming uncomfortable. “I thought if I kept moving, I could...move on.”
“Did it work?”
“What do you think?”
“I think you’re too hard on yourself.”
He fell silent again.
“It’s okay to grieve, even for a long time.”
“Let’s talk about you,” he said.
“Me?”
“You’re on the run for a reason.”
It was her turn to be quiet.
“You won’t tell me about it?”
“No.”
“You don’t trust me?”
That wasn’t it. Right now, in the dark of the cabin, with flames crackling in the fireplace, she trusted him. She didn’t think he would hurt her or take advantage of her. But she also couldn’t expect him to rescue her from this mess. She had to rescue herself.
“I don’t want to involve you,” she said finally.
“Why not?”
“It’s not your problem.”
“Maybe I can help.”
She shook her head in denial. “I just have to lay low for a while. I’ve done it before.”
He grunted at this admission, as if it didn’t surprise him.
“I’ll be okay. I can find a job.”
“Where?”
“At a diner.”
“A diner with no cops or truckers? Good luck with that.”
“I’m not worried about truckers.”
“You should be, because they’ll recognize you.”
“So?”
“They’ll talk about you on the radio.”
“They will not.”
“Sure they will. They already do. I’ve heard them.”
She moistened her lips, incredulous. “What do they say?”
“Complimentary things. Some of it’s a little crude.”
Those bastards. She curled her hands into fists. If truckers talked about her on the radio, she’d be in trouble. Anyone could listen to those stations, including the cops—and the killers. But maybe Walt was okay, and no one would come looking for her. Maybe no one would worry about a missing waitress.
“I’m sure you’ll be able to find work on your back, if nothing else.”
She sat up in bed, her eyes narrow. He wasn’t insulting her to be mean. He thought he was helping her. “You’re trying to scare me into going to the police.”
“You should go to the police.”
“Why do you care?”
He tucked his hands behind his head. “I don’t know.”
She settled back down and hugged a pillow to her chest. Cam meant well, but she didn’t trust the police. She could take care of herself. Cam felt responsible for her because he’d given her a ride, and now she was like...his cargo. He wanted to deliver her safely. But she knew better than to expect him to stick around.
He was a trucker. He’d move on in the morning.
She closed her eyes and tried to rest. Visions of murder and violence plagued her. She burrowed deeper in the blankets. When she finally drifted off, the nightmares closed in. She was back at the diner. There was a bloody pile of innards sizzling on the griddle. She plated the mess and took it out to her customers. The killers were sitting at a table in the parking lot. She dropped the tray and started running, but her legs didn’t work. She couldn’t escape, so she climbed inside the dumpster to hide.
Walt was at the bottom. He’d been disemboweled.
She let out a terrified shriek, covering her mouth. A figure emerged from the shadows. It was Duane.
“I knew I’d find you in the trash with another man.”
He struck her across the cheek, and everything went black.
Tala woke up screaming. Her skin crawled with creepy sensations, and blankets were tangled around her ankles. She kicked them aside to free herself, flinging out her hands. She connected with someone, but it wasn’t Duane. It was Cam.
He put his arms around her. “Shh. You’re okay now. I’ve got you.”
She stopped struggling and went quiet. It was dark in the room. She could see the pleasant glow of the fire in the hearth. The only sound was her ragged breathing. A sob rose up to her throat. The breakdown she’d been fighting all day caught up to her with a vengeance. She couldn’t prevent the tears from coming, and they were long overdue. She hadn’t cried since she’d left Duane.
Cam stroked her hair and made soothing noises.
She finally calmed down enough to speak. “Walt was in the dumpster. He was dead.”
“It was just a dream.”
“Duane was there, too. He hit me.”
“Did he?”
She heard the edge in his voice and eased away from him. There were tissues on the nightstand, next to a bottle of cold water. She used a tissue and took a soothing drink. Little by little, her tears abated.
“Better now?”
“Yes.”
“Duane is your husband?”
“He was.”
“Are you divorced?”
“Not legally, but I left him.”
“Because he hit you?”
Her stomach clenched with unease. It was a deeply personal question, but they weren’t strangers anymore. They’d passed that point and entered another territory. He’d opened up to her about his wife. She’d wept in his arms.
She’d never told anyone about the abuse she’d suffered in her short marriage. She’d been too ashamed. Her father had raised her to be strong and proud. She wasn’t the victim type. She was a survivor, and a fighter. Somehow Duane had taken that away from her.
Maybe talking about him would help her get it back. He didn’t deserve to be protected. She couldn’t excuse his actions, and she was done keeping his secrets.
“He was abusive,” she said, letting out a slow breath. “Mentally and physically.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
A cold calm passed over her, and she nodded. “He got more violent and controlling as time went on. It was so gradual, I almost didn’t notice it. Or I didn’t want to acknowledge it. Then he snapped, and I couldn’t pretend it wasn’t happening anymore.”
“What do you mean, he snapped?”
“Well, he changed after we got married. It wasn’t a huge transformation, because he’d always had a temper. He’d yell at me and act jealous and get drunk and stupid. I thought it was regular boyfriend stuff. Then we got married, and we moved to a very rural area. He started treating me like his property, instead of his wife. He’d have these dark moods that scared me. He didn’t want me to leave the house without permission. One day, I snuck out to go to the library. When I got back, he hit me.”
“What did you do?”
“Nothing. I was too stunned to move. He cried and begged me to forgive him. He said he’d never do it again.”
“But he did.”
“Yes.”
“Is he a cop?”
She was startled by the question. “How did you know?”
“Just a hunch. Go on.”
“We stayed together for a few more months. He flew into another jealous rage and hid my purse so I couldn’t go anywhere. I realized things weren’t going to get better. The next time he hit me, I hit him back.”
“What happened?”
She touched her face, remembering. “I bloodied his nose. I don’t think he expected that, and he got really mad. He knocked me out. As soon as I could move, I packed a bag. I left in the middle of the night while he was sleeping.”
“How did you get to Alaska?”
“I stowed away in a trailer.”
“You’re kidding.”
“No. I wasn’t planning on leaving Canada. I thought the trucker was going south. Instead he went west, and here I am.”
“Are you here illegally?”
She shook her head. “Have you ever heard of the Jay Treaty?”
“No.”
“It allows First Nations people the right to come to the US from Canada and vice versa. There’s really no such thing as an undocumented Indian, but I don’t have my tribal card or any ID to prove my status. I left everything in Canada.’
“I’m glad you escaped.”
“So am I.”
She looked away, contemplative. Cam didn’t seem to think less of her for having an abusive husband. She knew it wasn’t her fault, but a part of her felt responsible for what had happened. She should have been smarter, and more aware of Duane’s true nature. She shouldn’t have rushed into marriage. She should have identified the threat sooner.
Tala closed her eyes to clear the bad memories. Her relationship with Duane was over. She’d left him, and she’d never have to suffer his abuse again.
Unfortunately, she’d traded up as far as personal problems went. Now she had to worry about the other men she was running from.
Goose bumps broke out across her flesh. She’d kicked off the blankets in the throes of her nightmare. Her legs were bare and cold. So was Cam’s chest, she realized with a start. She’d been too distressed to notice that before. The faint glow of the fire revealed an intimate scene. They were in bed together, close enough to touch. He was shirtless, his torso outlined against the pale sheets. She was wearing his flannel without a stitch underneath. She tugged the comforter back into place, flushing.
“I should let you sleep,” Cam said.
“Don’t go,” she whispered. “Please.”
He glanced in her direction, brow furrowed. He seemed uncomfortable with her proximity, and was possibly confused about what she wanted from him. Tala struggled to pinpoint it herself. She knew he was hung up on his wife, and not interested in sex. Or not interested in her. Whatever his reasons, she felt safe with him.
She wouldn’t drag him into her problems, but she could ask him for one small thing. “Will you...hold me?”
He drew in a ragged breath, as if tortured by the thought.
“Just until I fall asleep,” she said, to make her wishes clear. “Nothing more.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
She searched his features in the dark, uncertain what he meant. His eyes glinted with something she’d seen before. Something he’d been trying to hide. The desire she’d sensed earlier flared between them, like a new spark.
He wasn’t so disinterested.
She altered her request. “Can I hold you?”
After a short hesitation, he rolled onto his side, facing away from her. She hugged his back, spoon-style. It was the best of both worlds. She could cuddle him and enjoy the simple pleasure of human touch without worrying about him getting aroused. He could lay there and be her teddy bear, no strings attached.
She slipped her arm around him and closed her eyes. He was warm and hard-muscled. Solidly built, like a protective shield. She could feel his heartbeat under her palm, strong and sure. He covered her hand with his and linked their fingers together. Her throat tightened with emotion. She hadn’t felt peace or contentment in such a long time. His presence filled an empty place inside her she hadn’t known was there.
She savored him for as long as she could before she fell asleep.

Chapter 6 (#u0ab8344d-c16a-5c50-a33b-12b9ae170066)
December 1265N-5 degrees
Cam got dressed in the dark.
He pulled on his jeans over thermal underwear and shoved his feet into steel-toed boots. His long-sleeved T-shirt provided minimal warmth against the morning chill, but he didn’t grab his jacket. He wanted to feel the cold bite of winter, and he did. It had snowed overnight. Powder crunched beneath his soles as he crossed the dark, deserted parking lot. Frosty air filled his lungs and penetrated his clothing.
He made his way toward the front office, which was open but unmanned. The smell of fresh-brewed coffee awaited him. He helped himself to two cups. He didn’t know if Tala liked cream and sugar, so he grabbed packets of both.
“There’s oatmeal,” Ann said, emerging from another room.
He glanced at the cooking pot next to the carafe. His stomach growled with interest, but his hands were already full. “I’ll come back for it.”
“I can deliver two bowls to your cabin.”
A flush crept up his neck at the thought of Ann coming to his door and catching a glimpse of Tala in his bed. He felt like a teenager who didn’t want his mom to find out his girlfriend had slept over. “No need.”
Ann smiled at his quick response. “Thanks for splitting logs.”
“I enjoy the work.”
She nodded, and he escaped the cozy space in a hurry. He had no reason to be embarrassed. He hadn’t done anything wrong. He’d slept next to Tala without crossing the line. Even if their night hadn’t been innocent, so what? Surely Ann had seen worse in her days as innkeeper. Drunken hookups, seedy affairs, hard partying. She wouldn’t blink an eye at Cam’s pretty young guest. Unless she assumed he was married, which might be the case. He was still wearing his wedding ring.
He winced at the oversight. He’d put it on again a few weeks ago, after a disastrous Thanksgiving at his parents’ house. His mother had invited one of Jenny’s friends—one of her single friends—in a clear attempt at matchmaking. He’d left as soon as possible, claiming he had an important delivery.
Women had flirted with him before, and he’d felt nothing. No whisper of temptation. No need to armor himself with proof of his lack of availability. This time was different. He hadn’t been interested in Jenny’s friend. He’d thought of the waitress at Walt’s Diner, someone he hardly knew, and he’d been struck by a wave of intense longing, mixed with sorrow. It hit him like an avalanche, knocking him off-balance. He’d found his ring and slipped it on. He’d needed a protective shield, because his attraction to the waitress had triggered new pain. His grief had felt staggering, insurmountable.
That was the problem with moving on. It hurt more than standing still.
He took the coffee to the cabin and set the cups down on the mantel by the fire. He poked the ashes and added some wood. Tala stirred at the sound. She sat up in bed with an abruptness that suggested she’d forgotten where she was. Her gaze connected with his, and recognition dawned. She returned to a reclining position, her trepidation fading.
She trusted him not to try anything sexual. Which made sense, he supposed, because he’d kept his hands to himself all night. But if she could’ve read his thoughts in the wee hours of the morning—or right now, for that matter—she wouldn’t look so relaxed. Because he wanted to climb into bed with her. He wanted to kiss away the hurt her husband had caused and show her how a real man treated a woman.
Heat crept up his neck at the thought. Of course he wasn’t going to make a move on her. He wasn’t ready for that kind of intimacy. He was still wearing his wedding ring. The only way to stay numb was to keep his distance.
“I brought you a coffee,” he said. “Do you want oatmeal?”
She nodded, rising to her feet. She looked rumpled and sexy in his flannel shirt. Her eyes were sleepy, her legs a mile long. When she tugged on the fabric to make sure she was covered, he averted his gaze. He knew she was bare beneath it. He’d seen her pale blue panties hanging in the bathroom. He’d touched them this morning—to see if they were dry. To feel the silky material and imagine it against her skin.
After she went into the bathroom, he released a slow breath. He needed to get a grip before he embarrassed himself. He cleared his throat and left the cabin, sucking in the cold air. There were two servings of oatmeal in disposable cups with lids at the front desk. He carried them back to the room, plastic spoons in hand. Tala was sitting by the fire, sipping coffee. They shared a simple hot breakfast in silence.
He wasn’t eager to get on the road again, despite his discomfort in her presence. He wanted to make sure she was safe before he left town. He hadn’t expected to be so concerned about her welfare, but they were in an unusual situation. They’d spent the past twenty-four hours together. They’d shared personal stories. They’d even held hands.
Cam might be numb, but he wasn’t dead. His protective instincts were working overtime. So was his libido, if he was being honest.
“Do you have another load to deliver?” she asked.
He nodded. “I’m supposed to pick it up this morning.”
“What direction are you headed?”
“North, on the Dalton.”
It wasn’t a trip she could take with him. The Dalton Highway was the deadliest stretch of road in Alaska. There were almost no facilities, and constant obstacles. Whiteouts, avalanches, ice patches, snowdrifts.
“You could stay here,” he said, on impulse.
“In Fairbanks?”
“In this cabin.”
Her lips parted with surprise. She hadn’t expected him to make this offer. That made two of them.
“I know the owner of this place, like I said. She might hire you.”
“To split logs?”
“Or for lighter work.”
“I can handle heavy work.”
He believed her.
“The owner is a woman?”
“Yes.”
“How well do you know her?”
Cam rubbed a hand over his jaw. “Her husband was a trucker. He died on the Dalton. Since then, I’ve been coming around to do chores for her.”
“Do you really trade services?”
“She gives me a discount. Also, I like it.”
“You like helping women?”
“I like splitting logs.”
She studied his face with skepticism. “Is there anything else you enjoy doing for her?”
He smiled at her question. “Like what?”
“You know what.”
“She’s pushing seventy. My generosity doesn’t extend quite that far.”
Tala set her coffee mug aside. “These cabins aren’t cheap. Even if she hired me, I couldn’t afford to stay here.”
“I can afford it.”
She shook her head in refusal. She wouldn’t allow herself to depend on him, or anyone else, and it pissed him off. She had no belongings, no money, no job, no resources. She didn’t even have a change of clothes. But she’d rather strike out on her own than kick back in this cozy cabin on his dime.
What was wrong with her? What was wrong with him, for that matter?
He should never have given her a ride in the first place. His contract prohibited picking up hitchhikers. She was clearly in trouble with the law. He should be cutting her loose, not trying to keep her around. He didn’t understand what he was doing. He’d made a series of bad decisions upon meeting her. Emotional decisions that threatened his current, stark existence. He’d brought her inside his rig to get warm, and warmed himself in the process.
If he wasn’t careful, the protective layer of ice he’d been hibernating under would thaw. Then the real pain would come.
“At least let me buy you a change of clothes,” he said. She had nothing to wear. He wasn’t leaving her on a street corner without any pants. “I have to go to Walmart and get some supplies anyway.”
She nodded her agreement and ducked into the bathroom to get ready. She had to borrow his sweatpants. Even with the drawstring tightened, they rode low on her hips. Her black waitress shoes were for indoor use only. She needed warm clothes and winter boots no matter what her future plans were. She couldn’t job-hunt in her old uniform, or his pajamas.
The big-box store was about five miles away. He parked on the outskirts of the lot and accompanied Tala inside. He grabbed a cart, swamped by memories of Jenny. Their Sunday shopping trips. Rainy mornings in Seattle. They’d been good together. They’d been content.
He headed toward the women’s clothing department, where Tala browsed the racks. She selected black leggings and an oversize sweatshirt. When he gestured for her to continue, she added a pair of jeans to the cart. They strolled through another section with packages of socks and underwear. She chose basic white cotton, seeming embarrassed.
“That’s all you want?” he asked.
“You don’t have to buy the whole store.”
“This is Walmart. Everything’s cheap.”
“I’m going to owe you.”
“Consider it a gift.”
“No,” she said, her face solemn. “I’ll pay you back.”
Warmth suffused his chest at her assertion. He admired her pride, even though he cursed her stubbornness. The thought of reuniting with her after he returned from the Dalton appealed to him—and not because he wanted to collect on a debt. He’d like to see her again, despite his wariness toward women, and his general misgivings about the trouble she was in.
“You should let me introduce you to Ann,” he said.
She continued walking alongside him, not answering. It was a good sign, he supposed. She hadn’t refused outright. They found the shoe racks. He left his cart at the end of the aisle and accompanied her on the search for practical footwear.
“You know what you said about moving on?” she asked.
“Yeah.”
“I have to do that, too. I have to keep moving.”
“You’re running away from your problems.”
“And you aren’t?”
He didn’t answer. Of course he was. They both were.
“If you stay in the same place, your past catches up with you.” She turned to study the opposite side of the aisle. “When I first came to Alaska, I went from town to town. I hitchhiked here and there. I didn’t feel safe unless I was on the go. It took me almost a month to settle down in Willow.”
It was on the tip of his tongue to tell her that she didn’t have to run anymore. He could help her. He used to be a cop. His brother was still a cop. Cam could make some inquiries about her husband. He could probably have the guy arrested, with or without Tala’s cooperation. Cam didn’t extend the offer, because he sensed it wouldn’t go over well. She didn’t trust the police, obviously. She wouldn’t trust him if she knew he’d been a patrol officer.
He also had his own issues with faith and justice. And family, for that matter. Calling his brother would open him up to uncomfortable questions. He’d disconnected from everyone in Washington. He hadn’t spoken to Mason since Thanksgiving.
He massaged the nape of his neck, feeling guilty. It was better to keep his secrets and protect his privacy. Stay distant. Stay numb.
She reached into a large box on a lower shelf and fished out a pair of sturdy black boots. They looked warm and practical, with faux fur trim. She sat down on the floor to try them on. “They fit.”
He grunted his approval. “What else do you need?”
She walked back and forth to test the comfort of the boots. Then she removed them. “This is more than enough, Cam.”
“You don’t have to pay me back.”
“I want to. How long will you be on the Dalton?”
“Three days, maybe.”
“Do you have a cell phone?”
“Of course, but there’s no service. You can leave a message.”
“Give me the number.”
He handed her a business card with his information. She tucked it into the front pocket of his flannel.
“You can go to the cabin anytime. I’ll tell Ann to run a tab.”
She nodded, avoiding his gaze. He didn’t press, because he was afraid to scare her off. Maybe she’d call him in a few days. Maybe she’d rethink his offer to stay at the cabins. She had nowhere else to go, after all.
They headed toward the front of the store together. She added a couple of travel-size toiletries to the cart, along with a simple canvas backpack. He didn’t really need any supplies, but he grabbed a few boxes of snacks. The store was busier now, at the start of the morning rush. He paid for the items in cash.
“I’ll change here,” she said, gesturing to the restrooms.
He went to wait for her near the entrance. There was an in-store restaurant with a café. He sat down at an empty booth. A mounted TV in the upper corner displayed local news. He listened to the weather report with interest. There was snow in the forecast, as usual. Then a photograph of Tala flashed across the screen.
Cam’s blood froze at the sight. Newscasters launched into a story of a missing waitress from Walt’s in Willow. The photo of Tala appeared again. It had been taken at the diner, probably by a patron. Tala was standing at the counter next to Walt.
The caption under her face read “Abigail Burgess.”
Viewers were asked to call a number for the Willow Police Department if they had any information. The segment lasted sixty seconds at the most. He blinked and it was gone, like a figment of his imagination.
Abigail. Abigail?
He tried to remember hearing her name in the diner, or over the radio. The other truckers used terms like “honey” or “cutie” for an attractive waitress. Tala was a distinctive name, and he wouldn’t have forgotten it. She must have lied to him. He was disappointed, but not particularly surprised, by the realization.
Cam pondered this latest development. There was no mention of a crime committed, by her or anyone else. She didn’t have any family in the area to report her disappearance, and she’d only been gone twenty-four hours.
And yet, her story had made the morning news.
What the hell had happened at Walt’s? He got the feeling it was something more serious than a brief sighting of her ex. She’d woken up screaming last night. She’d mentioned a dream about Walt in the dumpster. Dead.
He glanced toward the restrooms, uneasy. She was taking too long to change clothes. Either she’d ditched him to avoid saying goodbye, or she’d run into some more trouble. The first option was far more likely, and it filled him with dark emotions. He hadn’t been able to say goodbye to Jenny because she’d never woken up. He couldn’t bear to relive the moment his wife had slipped away.
He had issues with saying goodbye. Major issues.
Stomach roiling, he rose to his feet. Women who weren’t Tala breezed in and out of the restrooms. Had she walked by him while his eyes were glued to the television screen? No. She couldn’t have left the store, unless there was another way out. He spotted a garden section in the opposite corner.
Damn it.
Cam strode past the potted plants and fertilizer. Sure enough, there was an alternate exit at this end. He moved forward and shoved through the doors, searching the dark for a wolf-quick girl in a fur-lined parka.
There.
She was in the parking lot—and she wasn’t alone. A man had his hand locked around her upper arm. He appeared to be leading her away by force. She looked over her shoulder at Cam. Their eyes met for a split second. Then the man, who must be her abusive ex, jerked her forward. She stumbled and almost fell.
Cam’s vision went red. He was already on edge, filled with angry tension. The sight of her being manhandled made him completely snap.
He rushed toward them, intent on introducing himself with his fists.

Chapter 7 (#u0ab8344d-c16a-5c50-a33b-12b9ae170066)
Tala had checked her reflection before she went out to meet Cam.
The form-fitting jeans flattered her figure and the oversize sweatshirt was cozy. Her dark eyes glittered with a mixture of emotions. Fear, excitement, hope. She liked Cam, but she couldn’t accept his offer to stay in the cabin. It wasn’t the right place to lay low. She needed a cheap, anonymous hotel where no one asked questions. Also, her instincts told her to keep moving. She had to run until she felt safe.
She wanted to be cautious with her heart, as well. She didn’t know Cam well enough to trust him, and what she did know gave her pause. He was still in mourning. He was quiet and reserved. He wanted her physically, but he might change his mind about that. She wouldn’t be surprised if he started to have second thoughts about her as soon as they parted ways. He wasn’t ready to let go of his wife’s memory.
There was also the small matter of Tala being on the run from the law. Cam wasn’t the kind of man who would disregard her suspicious behavior. He’d continue to ask questions. He’d insist on helping.
She tugged on her parka, her spirits low. She didn’t want to say goodbye to Cam yet. He made her feel sexy and tingly and warm inside. More importantly, he made her feel safe. Tearing her gaze away from the mirror, she picked up her backpack and left the bathroom. She searched the crowd for Cam and found someone else.
The police officer from Willow.
He was in plainclothes, but she recognized his face. He was standing less than twenty feet away, blocking her path to the exit. His mouth stretched into a menacing smile. Pulse racing, she whirled around and headed the opposite direction. She rushed through the garden section, trying not to panic. It was filled with indoor plants and herbs. Alaskans liked to grow stuff, even in the dead of winter.
She spotted another exit sign in the corner. She started running toward it. She knocked over a garden gnome and kept going. Then she was outside in the cold, dark morning. The parking lot lights beckoned. She didn’t see Cam’s truck, but it didn’t matter. She needed to escape without involving him. She sprinted away from the danger, picking up speed with every stride. Running had always come naturally to her. She’d won several medals for her college cross-country team.
Unfortunately, she got tripped up before she could reach the road. A man jumped out from behind a parked car and pushed a shopping cart directly into her path. She couldn’t hurtle it, and she was going too fast to stop. She avoided the cart, but collided with the man. They both went sprawling.
When she tried to scramble away, he grabbed her by the arm. He was skinny, but strong. He rose to his feet and dragged her upright. She recognized him as one of the killers from the diner. With his free hand, he brandished a wicked-looking knife. When he twisted his wrist, the blade glinted in the dark.
She stopped struggling.
“Walk,” he ordered.
She moved forward, swallowing hard. A glance over her shoulder revealed Cam emerging from the garden section. He bolted toward them. She didn’t want him to get hurt, but she needed his help. Her captor pulled her along, wrenching her arm painfully.
Five.
She counted down the seconds until Cam struck.
Four.
The man at her side continued walking, staring straight ahead.
Three.
Cam was almost on them.
Two.
She jerked her elbow from the man’s grasp and dove to the ground like a bomb was about to go off. And it kind of did. Cam was the bomb. He exploded with brutal force, punching her captor in the back of the neck. The skinny man staggered forward and dropped his knife, which clattered to the asphalt. He looked stunned, but he didn’t fall down. He turned to fight, raising his fists protectively.
Cam punched him again, in the jaw, and that was all it took. The man spun around and crumpled to the ground like a leaf. Cam kicked the knife away. He said a few choice words, his mouth twisted with fury.
Tala stayed down, afraid to move. She thought Cam might continue his attack. He stood over his opponent, as if evaluating his condition. Then he left the guy alone and came to Tala. When he offered her a hand, she took it.
“Are you all right?”
She stood, testing the strength of her knees. “Yes.”
The parking lot wasn’t deserted. There were cars driving past, people coming and going. She glanced around for the police officer, her legs shaky. He wasn’t there, but someone else emerged from the shadows. It was the man who’d leered at her at the diner. His jacket was open. He had a revolver tucked into his waistband.
Cam used one arm to move Tala into the space behind him.
“What’s the trouble?” the man asked.
Tala gripped Cam’s elbow, terrified. Cam didn’t answer. A car passed by in the next lane, its headlights illuminating the scene. The man closed his jacket. He squinted at the curious onlooker in annoyance. Then he nudged his friend with the edge of his boot.
“Get up.”
The skinny man rose to his feet slowly. The man with the gun helped him stagger away. He shot Cam a threatening look over his shoulder. Then they both disappeared into the dark recesses of the parking lot. An older-model SUV, maybe a Ford Bronco, took off in the opposite direction. There were other vehicles in motion. It was difficult to tell which one held the men who’d attacked her.
Cam picked up her backpack. “We have to go back inside to call the police.”
Fear spiked through her. “No. We can’t.”
“Why not?”
“There was another man in the store. He’s with them.”
His eyes narrowed with suspicion. He glanced toward the front entrance. “Okay, we’ll call from my truck.”
She didn’t argue, because she wanted to get out of sight. They crossed the parking lot in long strides. Cam unlocked the door for her. She climbed in, taking the backpack from his hands. He walked to the driver’s side and got behind the wheel.
“Please,” she said. “Let’s just go.”
A muscle in his jaw flexed. He fired up the engine and left the parking lot. A delayed reaction to the close call struck her. She started shaking uncontrollably. Tears flooded her eyes. She drew her knees to her chest, making a tight ball with her body. She thought about Duane, the last man who’d been violent toward her. He’d said he was going to kill her once. She didn’t know if he meant it, or if he was capable of murder. He seemed pretty tame compared to the men she was currently running from.
When she lifted her head, they were parked on the side of the street, in front of an auto repair garage. There was a café and a bookstore across the street. Cam turned off the engine and gave her a measured look.
“I have to call the police,” he said again.

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