Against the Wild

Book 1: Brodies of Alaska

by Kat Martin

Genres: Romantic Suspense

Synopsis

"I love her books." --Linda Lael Miller "Gloriously suspenseful. . .magnificent reading. . .Martin is superb." --RT Book Reviews Alaska Where the men are as bold and untamed as America's last wilderness It's been three years since Lane Bishop tragically lost her fiancE, and she's finally ready to risk her heart on someone else. The hot look in Dylan Brodie's eyes says he's going to be that man. But when Lane flies to the remote 1930's fishing lodge to help him renovate, she discovers a little girl who won't speak, eerie legends and strange sounds in the night. And when she investigates the history of the lodge, she uncovers a legacy of injustice and murder. As danger stalks his daughter and the woman he is coming to love, Dylan must risk everything to uncover the shocking truth.

Release date: May 27, 2014

Publisher: Zebra Books

Print pages: 368

Sample

The low moaning of the wind awakened him. The old fishing lodge, constructed in the thirties, was built of hand-hewn logs, the chinking between them worn by time and weather, leaving spaces for the air to blow through. An eerie keening echoed inside the house, a chilling sound that sent shivers down Dylan’s spine.

Just the wind, he reminded himself. Nothing to do with stories of ghosts and hauntings. Just an inconvenience, nothing more.

Still, he had Emily to think of. Dylan Brodie swung his long legs to the side of the bed, shrugged into his heavy flannel robe, and padded barefoot down the hall toward his daughter’s bedroom.

The lodge he’d purchased earlier in the spring was big and sprawling, two stories high, with a separate family wing for the owner, another for the prestigious guests it had once hosted, back in its heyday in the thirties. The living room was big and open, exposing fourteen-inch logs in the ceiling. A massive river-rock fireplace climbed one wall; a second, smaller version warmed the sitting room in the master suite.

Dylan had fallen in love with the place the moment he had seen it, perched on Eagle Bay like a guardian of the two hundred forested acres around it.

Old legends be damned. He didn’t believe in ghosts or any of the Indian myths he had heard. He’d waited years to find the perfect spot for his guided fishing and family vacation business, and this was the place.

The wind picked up as he moved down the hall, the air sliding over rough wood, whistling through the eves, the branches on the trees shifting eerily against the windowpanes. Dylan picked up his pace, worried the noise would frighten Emily, though so far his eight-year-old daughter seemed more at ease in the lodge than he was.

Frosted-glass wall sconces dimly lit the passage as he walked along, original, not part of a remodel of the residential wing done a few years back, before the last owner moved out and left the area.

The four bedrooms and bathrooms upstairs on this side of the building weren’t fancy, but they were livable while he worked on the rest of the lodge. The master suite had been updated, but it wasn’t the way he wanted it yet. Eventually, he would rebuild this section, as well, bring it all up to the four-star standard he’d had in mind when he had purchased the property.

Dylan paused at the door to Emily’s room, quietly turned the knob, and eased it open. His daughter lay beneath the quilt his housekeeper, Winifred Henry, had made for her as a Christmas gift. It had princesses and unicorns embroidered in puffy little pink and white squares, all hand-stitched to fit her youth-size four-poster bed.

His gaze went to the child. Emily had the dark hair and blue eyes that marked her a Brodie, but her complexion was as pale as her mother’s. Unlike Mariah’s perfect patrician features, Emily’s mouth was a little too wide, her small nose freckled across the bridge.

She was awake, he saw, her eyes fixed on the antique rocker near the window. It was just her size, fashioned of oak and intricately carved. She loved the old chair that had been in the lodge when he’d bought it.

Emily never sat in it, but she was fascinated by the way the wind made it rock on its own. Dylan found it slightly eerie, the way it moved back and forth as if some invisible occupant sat in the little chair. She was watching it now, her lips curved in the faintest of smiles. She mumbled something he couldn’t quite hear, and Dylan’s chest clamped down.

It hurt to watch his little girl, see her in the make-believe world she now lived in, forming silent phrases, nothing he could actually hear.

Emily hadn’t spoken a single audible phrase since her mother had abandoned her three years ago. Not a meaningful word since the night Mariah Brodie had run off with another man.

Dylan’s hand unconsciously fisted. Maybe he hadn’t been the husband Mariah wanted. Maybe he’d been too wrapped up in trying to make a life in the harsh Alaskan wilderness he loved. Maybe he hadn’t paid her enough attention.

Maybe he just hadn’t loved her enough.

Guilt slipped through him. He never should have married her. He should have known she would never be able to adjust to the life he lived here. Still, it didn’t excuse her cruel abandonment of their daughter. An abandonment Emily had not been able to cope with.

Dylan forced himself to walk into the bedroom. Emily’s eyes swung to his, but she didn’t smile, just stared at him in that penetrating way that made his stomach churn.

“Em, honey, are you okay?” She didn’t answer, as he had known she wouldn’t. “It’s just the wind. The lodge is old. There’s nothing to be afraid of.”

Emily’s gaze went to the window, where a lone pine branch shifted restlessly against the sill. Ignoring him as if he weren’t there, she snuggled back into her pillow and closed her eyes. She blamed him for the loss of her mother, he knew. It was the only explanation for why she had withdrawn from him so completely.

Tucking the quilt a little closer beneath her chin, he leaned down and kissed her cheek. The wind picked up as he walked out of the bedroom and eased the door closed. Emily was his to watch over and protect, his to care for and comfort. But he had lost his daughter three years ago.

When he had driven her mother away.

Lane Bishop stepped off the Alaska Airlines flight at the Ketchikan International Airport. When she had finally agreed to make the trip from L.A., she’d been surprised to discover that the journey—two and a half hours to Seattle, then two hours on to Ketchikan—was shorter than a flight to New York.

Alaska had always seemed so far away, so remote. And yet she had always wanted to see it.

Of course, she had never imagined she would accept Dylan Brodie’s offer and take a job helping him remodel the old fishing lodge he had purchased in the middle of God-only-knew-where, Alaska—even if it was a challenge she found hard to resist.

As the owner of Modern Design, an interior design studio in Beverly Hills, Lane had done a number of log homes, ski chalets, and exclusive rural getaways for the rich and famous. But a handcrafted nineteen-thirties fishing lodge on a bay in the Inland Passage pushed every hot button she had.

But then so did the lodge’s incredibly sexy owner.

Which was the reason she had been determined to stay away.

She still wasn’t completely sure why, after half a dozen refusals, she had changed her mind and agreed to take the job. Perhaps it was the debt she owed Dylan for saving her life—and getting himself shot in the process.

They’d only just been introduced, both simply guests at the wedding of a mutual friend, when gunfire had erupted. She hadn’t been the target and neither had he, but Dylan had shoved her to the ground and been grazed by a bullet while trying to protect her.

Gratitude for the near stranger who had come to her rescue accounted for at least some of her motivation.

The rest had to do with the attraction she’d felt for him from the first moment she had met him.

She spotted him walking toward her, as tall as she remembered, at least six-two, and even more imposing. Her mouth went dry and her insides quivered. He was wearing a red plaid flannel shirt, the sleeves rolled up over sinewy forearms. His rugged features were chiseled, his face darkly tanned, and in a hard, masculine way, he was amazingly handsome.

He’d attracted her as no man had in years, and seeing him now, Lane felt the same jolt of heat she had felt back then. It was exactly the reason she had tried to stay away from him, and she now fought an urge to run back to the plane, take the next flight home to L.A.

Instead, she forced herself to look up at him and smile. “Dylan. It’s good to see you.”

She could feel his eyes on her, as blue as the sky, skimming over her beige slacks and peach knit sweater, subtly assessing her curves. There was something about him, something that made him seem dark and forbidding, like eating chocolate at midnight.

He stared at her so long she thought he was going to haul her into his arms and kiss her. Her breathing hitched, and she realized she wanted exactly that.

Instead, he reached for the handle of her wheeled carry-on bag, and relief hit her. Or maybe it was disappointment.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Dylan said. “The construction crew is hard at work, but I need to get things rolling on the interior.”

“Yes, of course.”

His lips curved in a smile, but his expression was as guarded as she recalled. A man with secrets—it was a thought she’d had before. Perhaps uncovering those secrets was part of the reason she had decided to come.

Perhaps it was simply that she hadn’t been able to think of anything but Dylan Brodie since he had left L.A.

“We need to get your luggage. The baggage claim is off to your right.”

“We have to get Finn.”

His mouth, which was hard and fit his face perfectly, edged up. “I can’t wait to meet him.”

Finnegan was her dog, a ninety-pound Irish wolfhound—the runt of the litter. Her closest companion since her fiancé, Jason Russell, had died in a motorcycle accident three years ago. Bringing Finn along was the only way she would agree to come.

They collected her bags, then went in search of her dog. One of the airport staff released him from his giant cage, and he raced to her side as if she had saved his life. Which she’d actually done when she’d rescued him from the pound just hours before he had been scheduled to be put down.

“You might have mentioned you were bringing your horse,” Dylan said drily.

Lane just smiled. “This is Finn.” She knelt and put her arms around his neck, gave him a hug. “Good boy,” she said. Tall and rangy, he had a coarse gray coat and dark brown eyes that seemed able to look into her soul.

“Were you a good boy on the plane?” Rising, Lane rubbed between his ears the way he liked, calming him a little. “I bet you were.”

Finn panted and gave her one of his goofy wolfhound grins. Lane scratched and petted until the stiffness went out of his body and he began to relax. “Finn, meet Dylan. He’s a friend.”

Dylan closed the distance between them, eased a hand out for Finn to sniff. The dog got a whiff of his scent and relaxed even more.

“He knows the word friend,” she said. “He’s very intelligent. He’s a great watchdog, but he’s amazingly gentle.”

“You said he was okay with kids.”

“Finn loves children.”

Dylan just nodded. From the terminal, he led her outside, carrying her heavy suitcase as if it were full of feathers instead of a month’s worth of clothes and wheeling her carry-on, too.

“I hope you had a decent flight,” he said as they walked along, Finn trotting quietly at the end of his leash.

“As far as I’m concerned, any flight I can walk away from is a good one.”

His smile came easy this time, genuine and warm. It made her stomach lift alarmingly. This was the reason she had come, this amazing attraction. And yet it scared her to death.

“Up here, flying’s mostly the way we get around,” he said. “Maybe I can teach you to like it.”

She knew he was a pilot. She had also known he would be flying her into his recently purchased fishing lodge. Instead of heading for the parking lot, he turned and started walking toward the water. Since the Ketchikan Airport was built on an island with only ferry access to the mainland, there were docking facilities for the floatplanes that carried passengers to inland destinations.

“I have a feeling you’re a very good pilot,” she said. “I’m actually looking forward to the trip.” Though she didn’t know that much about him, there was an air of confidence in the way he moved, the way he handled himself that made her think he was good at anything he attempted.

Dylan seemed pleased by the comment. “I think you’ll find the scenery pretty amazing.” But he was looking at her and not the incredible view of the ocean, and Lane was having a hard time catching her breath.

Too late to back out now, she reminded herself. Followed by, Just remember to keep your head.

A ramp appeared in front of them, bobbing in the water. It swayed a little beneath their feet as Dylan led her toward a white floatplane with blue striped sides, rocking at the end of its tether.

“Beautiful airplane. What is it?”

“De Havilland Magnum Turbo Beaver,” he said proudly. “Some Microsoft exec from Seattle was the original owner. Sold her to a guy in Newport Beach, but it didn’t work out. Now she’s mine.”

“This is the plane you bought in L.A.?” That was what had led to their meeting. Dylan had stopped to visit his cousin, Tyler, who lived in the city. At the time, Ty, a private investigator, had been working with Lane’s best friend, Haley Warren.

“I found her on the Internet. She was in fantastic condition, and the price was right. It was worth the trip down to pick her up.”

Since then, Haley had married Ty and become a partner in Modern Design, giving Lane the freedom to make the trip. Her gaze went over Dylan Brodie, looking like every woman’s macho fantasy in his worn jeans and plaid flannel shirt. After the shooting at the wedding, while the EMTs had been cleaning the wound in his side, she had seen him shirtless, seen a portion of his incredible body.

Now, just thinking about all that hard male flesh had her nerves kicking up again.

Lane shifted a little closer to Finn as Dylan loaded her bags into the cargo compartment. He urged the dog up into the seven-seat passenger section of the plane and helped her into the copilot’s chair. After a final check of the exterior, he climbed aboard, settled himself in the pilot’s seat, and began flipping switches.

Her nervousness built. She still couldn’t believe he had talked her into leaving her business and flying up for the weeks it would take to complete the remodel job. She couldn’t believe she had given in to her wild attraction to him and accepted the job.

But as she looked over at Dylan Brodie, saw the confident way he went through the flight check, the ease with which his hard hands moved over the controls, she understood exactly why she had come.

Not since Jason had died had a man attracted her the way Dylan did. She had dated a couple of other good-looking men, but those few dates had ended in disaster. Maybe it would happen again, but there was something about Dylan Brodie that had convinced her to take the risk.

Aside from his irresistibly challenging project, she was determined to explore the attraction between them. She would take things slowly, keep her emotions in check and make sure she was doing the right thing, but if the feeling was mutual and as strong as it had been before, she would act on it.

She was a woman, after all. She had needs, desires, just like any other woman. After three long years of grieving, she deserved a little physical contact with an amazingly attractive man.

Or at least that was what she had told herself.

Unfortunately, as the plane began to rush through the water, throwing up a frothy wake, traveling faster and farther toward some unknown destination, all her earlier doubts rose into her head.

She didn’t have to be psychic to know she was completely out of her league with a man like Brodie. Good Lord, she didn’t even know him!

She hadn’t been sure what Dylan expected of her when she’d agreed to take the job, but she wasn’t going to let him push her into making a mistake. She hadn’t had sex in three years. She simply wasn’t ready to rush into a relationship, she told herself, as brief as this one would be.

Dear God, she thought in near panic as the engine roared and the plane began to lift out of the sea, what on earth have I done?

Dylan eased the plane into a slow climb, then flattened out and settled at a comfortable altitude above the ocean and deep green forests below.

He flicked a glance at the woman beside him, sitting rigidly in the copilot’s seat. She was wearing beige slacks, a peach-colored sweater, and low-heeled shoes. Gold earrings sparkled in her ears, and pale orange fingernail polish gleamed on her slender hands. Not exactly outdoor wear, but he liked it.

He wondered if the tension she was feeling came from the plane ride or just sitting next to him.

He was pretty sure it was the latter.

She’d been wary of him since the moment he had introduced himself one sunny afternoon in California. Over the next few days, she had dodged every effort he had made to get her to go out with him, told him in no uncertain terms she just wasn’t interested.

Not in him, or the job he offered.

She owned an interior design firm in Beverly Hills, she’d told him, adding when he’d baited her that she was a damn good designer. Having checked her résumé and the references he found on the Internet, having done all the necessary homework, he knew she hadn’t been unjustly boasting. The woman knew interior design, and her credentials said she could handle the job.

Still, she’d said no when he’d tried to get her to come north and take on the project. She’d said no half a dozen times, and it should have been enough.

For reasons he had yet to fathom, he had called her again when he got back home and asked her one last time, offered her way more money than the job was worth.

He’d called himself an idiot a hundred times, been thinking it right up to the moment he’d seen her standing in the terminal and felt that same punch in the gut he’d felt in L.A.

Taller than average, about five-eight, she was twenty-seven years old, slender yet curvy in all the right places. She had wavy, just-below-the-shoulder red hair and eyes greener than a high meadow pine. She had bold yet feminine features, and her skin had a golden cast he didn’t think came from the sun. Just looking at her made him hard. God, she was a beauty.

He reminded himself he had fallen for a beautiful woman before and it had ended in disaster. Marrying Mariah Douglas was the worst mistake he’d ever made. But he wasn’t interested in marrying Lane. And she sure as hell wasn’t interested in tying up with him.

Not for any length of time, at least.

Lane was a sensible woman, a businesswoman sophisticated enough to enjoy a brief, intense relationship and walk away unfazed when it was over.

From the moment he had seen her, he had wanted her. More than wanted her. And though she was skittish and unsure of her feelings, he knew damn well she wanted him.

He wouldn’t rush her. It wasn’t his way. If it worked, it worked. If it didn’t, it didn’t. But he was a man who went after what he wanted, and he wanted Lane Bishop in his bed.

He thought of his daughter and wondered what Emily would think when he brought another woman into the house. He hadn’t told Lane about her. But then what was there to tell? Em lived in a world of her own. She never bothered anyone. And Lane was there to do a job. The two would rarely see each other.

“You were right,” Lane said, flashing him a grin, apparently forgetting her nervousness, at least for the moment. “It’s spectacular.” She went back to looking at the view of deep pine forests stretching endlessly beneath the plane, the landscape interspersed with blue ocean, quiet lakes, and rocky peaks. “It’s better than any picture I’ve ever seen.”

He relaxed a little. “I hoped you’d like it.” But he hadn’t been completely sure. These days, a lot of people were more interested in texting or playing a game on their iPhones than looking at the scenery.

Though his ex-wife had been raised in Wyoming and should have been used to the climate and surroundings, she had hated Alaska the minute she’d set foot on the loamy soil.

Next to him, Lane was still smiling. “I love the mountains,” she said. “I grew up in Illinois farm country, but my mother came from Vermont. She always missed it. The snow on the mountains at Christmas, the scent of pine trees. I guess I must have inherited a little of that love.”

Of course it was easy to love Alaska in the late spring and summer. The tourist season. It was the rest of the year most people couldn’t handle.

“Your folks still around?” he asked.

He caught a flash of sadness in her face. “Dad took a job in L.A. and died of a heart attack right after the move. Mom got breast cancer a few months later. I was in college in Chicago. I quit school and moved out to California to take care of her.”

“That had to be rough.”

“It was worth it. Over those last few months, Mom and I really got to know each other. I wouldn’t trade the time we spent together for anything.”

Interesting. He had her pegged as a cooler, less emotional kind of woman. He wondered if that would pose a problem later on. Then again, why should it? Lane was from L.A. No-strings sex was perfectly acceptable there.

She turned back to the window. “Oh, look at those snow-covered peaks! They seem tall enough to touch the sky.” She grabbed her handbag and started digging frantically around in the bottom. Behind them, Finn moved a little in his seat, then put his head back down and went back to sleep.

Lane retrieved her digital camera and started snapping away. For the next few minutes she took photo after photo of the incredible view outside the window.

“How far away is the lodge?”

“It’s about a hundred miles from Ketchikan to Eagle Bay.”

She started snapping pictures again as if she wouldn’t have time to get enough. He didn’t tell her the view she was looking at went on for thousands of miles.

There was only so much a city girl could take.

Lane enjoyed the flight to Eagle Bay far more than she had expected. She’d been completely caught up in the incredible scenery, the snow-capped ranges that stretched as far as the eye could see, the islands, one after another in the Inland Passage below the plane. She had even spotted a whale, and Dylan had dipped down so she could get a closer look.

For a while she’d even been able to forget the unsettling man beside her. Now they were descending, losing altitude, preparing for a water landing in the bay.

“I’ll make a pass over the lodge so you can get a look at what you’ll be dealing with.”

“That’d be great.”

The plane dipped, continued its descent, then began to circle over a structure sitting along the shoreline of the bay. The lodge was larger than she had imagined, big and sprawling, a U-shaped building two stories high, one side a little longer than the other.

“There are two separate wings,” Dylan said. “The smaller one’s for family, the bigger one’s for guests.”

“How many rooms?”

“Four bedrooms and a master suite on the residential side, ten rooms in the guest wing. We’re knocking out some walls so we’ll end up with two suites and six bedrooms with baths in that wing. There’s a garage underneath. The center of the lodge is the great hall and dining room, a few miscellaneous spaces.”

“It looks a lot bigger than I imagined when I saw the photos.” She looked down. “Are those cabins?”

“That’s right. Four outside cabins plus the main lodge, and a few outbuildings: sheds, covered wood bins, that kind of thing.” One of his dark eyebrows went up. “You can handle it, right?”

A shot of irritation trickled through her. “Of course.” She was damn good at what she did. And she had done far bigger projects. She wouldn’t have taken the job if she couldn’t do it right. She flicked him a sideways glance. “I can handle it. That’s why you’re paying me the big bucks.”

Dylan laughed, a husky, masculine sound that sent a ripple of heat sliding through her, reminding her of the underlying reason she had come.

Dylan circled the plane one more time and some of her unease returned as she realized that as far as she could see there was nothing but forest, miles and miles of deep green woods broken only by blue mountain lakes and long stretches of ocean.

“I thought there’d be a town,” she said.

“Not to worry.” The engine buzzed as he swung the plane a little to the right and she spotted what looked like structures in the distance, a few scattered homes and businesses. “That’s a settlement called Yeil. It means ‘raven’ in Tlingit.”

“Klink-it?”

“That’s the way you pronounce it. It’s the name of the Indians in this area. There’s a small school, a grocery store with a one-pump gas station, and a community center. It’s where we get our power, and the cell tower is there. Some of the people who live there work for me.”

“I see.”

“Waterside is fifteen minutes further north by air. The ferry docks there. That’s where we get supplies, pick up guests. There are businesses there, even a movie theater.”

“So you can drive there?”

“You can. Or you can go by boat.”

“You have a boat?”

“Twenty-five-foot Grady-White. Great for fishing.”

“How long does it take to drive?”

“The town’s only twenty-five miles away, but the roads are gravel. They aren’t too bad this time of year, but if the snow gets too deep, you have to fly or go by snowmobile.”

Her stomach knotted. Unless Dylan flew her, or took her in his boat, she was stranded miles from the nearest real town. Why hadn’t he mentioned how secluded they would be? Why hadn’t she asked more questions? She’d been so damned busy she hadn’t had time to do her research.

Or maybe she was afraid if she knew too much, she wouldn’t come.

When she turned, she saw him watching her.

“You know you read like an open book. We won’t be alone out here, if that’s what you’re worried about. Other people live in Eagle Bay. They aren’t that close to the lodge, but they have homes not too far away. With the remodel, I’ve got contractors working at the lodge all day. I’ve got a housekeeper. You don’t have to be afraid, Lane.”

Her hackles went up, though she had definitely been feeling uneasy. “I’m not afraid. I was just . . . I should have done a little more research.”

“I’ll tell you anything you want to know.”

She sat back in her seat. It would have to be enough. She was here now and she had to admit she was captivated by what she had seen so far. Whatever happened, she would remember this wild place. She figured very few people who saw it ever forgot it.

Dylan made a nice, easy, smooth-water landing, then taxied close to the dock and let the wake nudge him up to the tie-downs. Paddy O’Ryan, the brawny, redheaded Irishman who worked for him, began securing the lines, attaching the plane so it wouldn’t float away.

Dylan climbed out, stepping down on one of the pontoons that replaced the wheels, then reached up for Lane and helped her climb out. She caught Finn’s leash and tugged, and the dog jumped out of the plane, nearly knocking her into the water as he shot past her and landed on the dock.

Grinning, Dylan caught her waist to steady her and felt her firm, lean muscles. A jolt of heat shot through him. Lane must have felt it, too. She turned, eyes wide, and quickly stepped onto the dock. Collecting Finn. . .