Wild Men of Alaska Collection - By Helmer, Tiffinie Page 0,126
kitchen was her first stop. As with any dwelling, the kitchen always housed the most interesting objects. She helped herself to a handful of nice, decent cutlery and one sinfully-sharp Ulu—an Eskimo knife mostly used for filleting fish. It was a third of a circle in shape with a bone handle that fit nicely in her palm. A long curved blade used for slicing muscle meat from the bones of salmon, it was wicked cool.
Yeah, that could come in handy.
The chef knew her knives. As Kate explored the downstairs section of the lodge, she stashed them in places just in case she needed them later. One thing she’d learned as a spy, always be ready to defend yourself.
Her life was all about putting up walls and arming them with deadly things. The filleting knife was hard to let go of as she hid it inside a stunning vase, glazed in the colors of the Aurora Borealis, and displayed upon the large hearth of the fireplace. She hated not having a weapon on her person. Being tied and strip-searched again was not in her future. She really wanted to hate Sergei for what he’d done to her, wanted to use the violation as fuel against him, but was finding that harder and harder to do. Probably because part of her had enjoyed his touch. More than part of her. He hadn’t needed to be so gentle with how he’d conducted the search. Leaving her wanting had burned more than the actual act of the strip-search. Probably because if the roles had been reversed, she’d have done the same.
The thought of tying Sergei to a bed and stripping him naked, allowing her hands to search every inch of his skin, had her rooted in place. What would it be like to have free access to his body? To do with him what she wanted?
Oh, so not thoughts she wanted to be having.
Slowly she sank down on the leather couch, her toes curling on the rug, and her hands fisting in her lap. She gazed unseeing out the French doors. Snow had piled up on the deck in alarming amounts. Wind swirled flakes into a mass that became a wall. If Sergei didn’t show up soon, he wasn’t going to be able to. He’d be stuck out there unable to find his way back. She didn’t know how he could see a foot in front of him as it was. It would take nothing to get turned around, step off a cliff and fall to his death, or slip on ice and break a bone, and then freeze to death out there in this.
Why was she more worried about Sergei struggling through the storm than making him pay for Perry’s death?
She’d been all fired up to make him pay, had dropped in on The Edge guns blazing and knives slashing after his head. Was that the problem? What if she was really after his heart, since he’d broken hers?
Oh God.
He’d left her in Afghanistan. Abandoned her in the face of betrayal, death, and devastation. His betrayal, or so she thought. The accusations he’d said about Perry had a truthful ring to them. There were things she’d witnessed and for some reason or another had talked herself around to where Perry wasn’t in the wrong.
Could she have been wrong this whole time? She wasn’t gullible like Sergei claimed, but were her loyalties misplaced?
She stood and paced the area of hardwood next to the French doors, searching to see something through the whiteout.
Where the hell was he?
She rubbed her arms and realized how chilled the room had become. She added another couple of logs to the fire, stoking the flames until they burned brighter and hotter. Much the way she burned waiting for Sergei.
She had questions he needed to answer, and he’d better get his butt back here fast.
A clatter coming from the kitchen froze her in place.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Kate positioned herself near the fireplace, the fillet knife within handy reach.
Sergei entered and came to a fast stop at seeing her. He’d already taken off his winter gear but his skin was flushed with cold, his nose and cheeks red, and his hair wet from melting snow. She drank him in, and he stared at her in wonder.
“How did you get free?” His eyes narrowed and slid around the room as though looking for someone else.
She disregarded his question for one of hers. “Where the hell have you been?” It came out accusing as though she