Page 1 of Sergeant's Christmas Siege

One

The man she was supposed to meet was late.

Deliberately, she assumed.

Investigator Kate Holiday of the Alaska State Troopers noted the time, then sat straighter in the chair she’d chosen specifically because it faced the door of the only café she’d found open in tiny Grizzly Harbor, one of Southeast Alaska’s rugged fishing villages that was accessible only by personal boat, ferry—which at this time of year ran seldomly—or air.

Another minute passed. Five minutes. Ten.

This was not a particularly auspicious beginning to her investigation into the strange goings-on in and around this remote town, tucked away on one of the thousand or so islands along the state’s southeastern coast. Kate took a dim view of strange goings-on in general, but particularly when they consistently involved a band of ex-military operatives running around and calling themselves “Alaska Force.”

Of all things.

Kate was not impressed with groups of armed, dangerous, unsupervised men in general. Much less with those who gave themselves cute names, seemed toexpend entirely too much energy attempting to keep the bulk of their activities off the official radar, and yet kept turning up in the middle of all kinds of trouble. Which they then lied about.

She had been unimpressed the moment she’d read the file that carefully detailed the list of potential transgressions her department at the Alaska Bureau of Investigation believed the members of Alaska Force had committed. But then, Kate had a thing about the men up here, on this island and all over the state, who seemed to think that the law did not apply to them. It was a time-honored part of the Alaskan frontier spirit, and Kate had hated it pretty much all her life.

But this was not the time to think about her unpleasant childhood. What mattered was that Kate had grown up. She had escaped from the armed, dangerous, and unsupervised men who had run roughshod over her early years, helped put them away, and had thereafter dedicated herself to upholding the rule of law in the most defiantly, gleefully lawless place in the United States.

This introductory interview with the supposed public relations point person of Alaska Force was only the opening shot. Kate was unamused that the group—who secreted themselves away on the near-inaccessible back side of the island, and when had anything good come from groups of dangerous men with hideouts?—considered it necessary to have a public relations point person in the first place.

She had every intention of taking them down if they were responsible for the escalating series of disturbances that had culminated in an act of arson two days ago, which had amped up her department’s interest in what was happening out here in Grizzly Harbor. Because she had no tolerance whatsoever for people who imagined themselves above the law.

Much less people who thought it was entertaining toblow up fishing boats in the sounds and inlets that made up so much of Southeast Alaska, where summer brought cruise ships filled with tourists. This time there had been no one aboard, likely because it was the first week of a dark December.

But it wouldn’t always be December.

The door to the café opened then, letting in a blast of frigid air from outside, where the temperature hovered at a relatively balmy thirty-three degrees. Or likely less than that now that the gray, moody daylight was eking away into the winter dark and the coming sunset at three fifteen.

Kate glanced up, expecting the usual local in typical winter clothes.

But the man who sauntered in from the cold was more like a mountain.

She sat at attention, unable to help herself, her body responding unconsciously to the authority the man exuded the way other men—and the many deadly wild animals who roamed these islands—threw off scent. And she deeply loathed herself for the silly, embarrassingly feminine part of her that wanted to flutter about, straightening her blue uniform. She refrained.

The man before her was dressed for the cold and the coming dark, which should have made him look bulky and misshapen. But it didn’t, because all his gear was very clearly tactical. He was big. Very big. She put him at about six four, and that wasn’t taking into account the width of his shoulders or the way he held himself, as if he fully expected anyone looking at him to either cower in fear or applaud. Possibly both.

Kate did neither.

It was December on a steep, rugged island made from the top of a submerged mountain and covered in dense evergreen trees, perched there in the treacherous northern Pacific with glaciers all around. One of the mostbeautiful, if inhospitable, parts of the world. There were only about 150 or so year-round residents of this particular village, and Kate was the only person in the café besides the distinctly unfriendly owner, who had provided her a cup of coffee without comment, then disappeared into the kitchen.

Meaning she was, for all intents and purposes, alone with a man who made her feel as instantly on edge as she would if she’d come face-to-face with a grizzly.

Kate didn’t speak as she eyed the new arrival. She’d joined the Troopers after college and had been on the job ever since, helping her fellow Alaskans in all parts of this great state. And sometimes providing that help had involved finding herself in all kinds of questionable situations. The man standing before her radiated power, but Kate knew a thing or two about it herself.

She watched, expressionless, as he stuffed his hat and gloves in the arm of his jacket, like a normal person when he wasn’t, then hung it up on one of the hooks near the door. All with what seemed to Kate entirely too much languid indifference for a man who was clearly well aware he was nothing less than a loaded weapon.

He looked around the café, as if he expected to see a crowd on this dreary, cold Friday afternoon in the darkest stretch of the year. Then he finally looked straight at Kate.

For a moment, she felt wildly, bizarrely dizzy. As if the chair she was in had started to spin. She went to sit down, then realized three things, one on top of the next. One, she was already sitting down. Two, the man might have made a big show of looking around, but he’d taken in every single detail about her before he’d fully crossed the threshold. She knew it. She could tell.

And three, the man in front of her wasn’t only big and powerful, and incredibly dangerous if the file on him was even partially correct; he was also beautiful.

Shockingly, astonishingly, absurdly beautiful, in away that struck her as too masculine, too physical, and too carnal all at once.

He had thick black hair that didn’t look the least bit military and that he made no attempt to smooth now that he’d pulled his hat off. His eyebrows were arched and distinctly wicked. His eyes were as dark as strong coffee, his mouth was implausibly distracting, and his cheekbones were like weapons. He looked the way Kate imagined a Hawaiian god might.

Which was a fanciful notion that she couldn’t believe she’d just entertained about a person of interest in a recurring series of questionable events.

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