Authors: Tiffinie Helmer
EDGE (48 page)
Now there was a woman. Full mouth, full breasts, full hips. The trifecta. He’d never been able to resist that sexy combination.
She must have sensed his scrutiny for she glanced back over her shoulder. He smiled. She frowned. He smiled wider. This summer was showing some promise.
Sonya sidled up to her four-wheeler, and Peter mounted behind her. Nikolai had commandeered the other ATV for him and his wife. In a cloud of dust, they took off rumbling down the dirt road.
Garrett was definitely showing up for dinner.
Waiting for his own ride to manifest, he took a moment to look around. South Naknek didn’t have the postcard beauty of the Kenai Peninsula that he’d flown out of that morning, but it had a rough and ready appeal. An appeal that fit his mood as of late. He could use some getting back to nature and there wasn’t anything but nature at present. He’d spent too much time indoors, riding a desk, and needed some space around him. Nothing
but
space here. The only building next to the dirt-packed runway was a six-by-eight shack with a broken window and a doorway with no door. Someone with a sense of humor had painted a sign on the shed that read, “South Naknek International Airport.”
There wasn’t a tree to block the wind or the view. Bright green tundra with the bloom of summer ended in silt cliffs that broke the ocean as she tumbled her destructive way to shore. Industry dotted the coastline in the form of canneries to help process the catch of the “Red Salmon Capital of the World.”
As an Alaska Wildlife Officer, he’d come to this place under the guise of policing the craziness that the combination of money and cutthroat fishing brought out in people.
“Yo, Hunt!”
Garrett turned from surveying the area to see Judd Iverson stepping out of a brown, rusty Jeep. Garrett hadn’t seen Judd in two years, but he looked as though he hadn’t changed much, still had that playful swagger as though he hadn’t a care in the world. Judd had grayed more at the temples, but it looked good on him. Straight dark brows slashed over eyes that noticed the slightest infraction, unless a woman was in the vicinity. It would be fun working with Judd again, as long as Garrett remembered not to be coerced into joining in any poker games.
“Iverson, you dog. How ya been?” he asked, slapping his hand out for a bone-crushing shake.
“Same as ever.” Judd focused on the surfboard. “Couldn’t have left the board at home, could you?”
Garrett’s face split into a grin. “Not a chance. Gotta have something to do on my off time.”
“Right,” Judd scoffed. “Like we’re going to get any time to breathe once fishing starts. Your memory’s fading, old man.”
“Last I heard, you had a few years on me. Like five.”
“Damn, it’s good to have you here.” Judd slapped him on the back. “I was glad to hear you wanted a change of scene. We can use all the help we can get. I take it Homer’s not treating you well?”
Homer had lost its appeal since his “friend with benefits” had revoked his bedding rights. Garrett shook off the melancholy. He’d had his chance with Mel Bennett and hadn’t taken advantage of it, though she might have been the one woman who wouldn’t have tethered him. He disregarded the thought and focused on Judd.
“Homer’s fine,” Garrett answered. “I just wanted a little more action.”
Judd grabbed Garrett’s bag and threw it into the back of the open Jeep. “There’s no shortage of action around here.”
Just what he was after.
Garrett boarded the
Calypso
and stowed his gear below deck. He then met Judd and the other trooper they’d be working with, Skip Ozhuwan, in the cabin above. Skip was an Alaskan Native and had grown up on the Kuskokwim Delta. No one knew the waters of the Bering Sea like the Aleut. He had dark almond-shaped eyes and a round happy face that belied a shrewd cop.
Garrett took a seat, and stretched his legs out in front of him, crossing his ankles. Judd threw a Coke to him and offered one to Skip, who declined. Judd popped the top of his own and leaned against the bulkhead.
Skip commandeered the captain’s chair with a clipboard in front of him and began listing where other troopers would be stationed in the Naknek/Kvichak District. It was the job of the Alaska Wildlife Troopers, or AWT, to police the fishing, and make sure everyone adhered to the fishing and safety regulations.
“We have the usual hot heads present,” Skip began. “The Harte brothers gave us some trouble last summer. Earl Harte is a little trigger happy and likes to shoot at the drifters. He’s yet to hit anyone, but there’s always a first time.” Skip adjusted his seating. It seemed as though his uniform was getting tight in the trunk.
“Then there’s the drifter, Chuck Kendrick, captain of the
Albatross
,” Skip continued. “Last summer, Aidan Harte cut Kendrick’s net when it wrapped around his buoy. Kendrick threatened to get even.”
Judd added, “As we know, Kendrick always follows through.”
Skip nodded. “Yeah, that was a bad situation with the sinking of the
Miss Julie.
Thankfully, we didn’t lose anyone. That time.”
“It sure stuck in my craw that we didn’t have enough evidence to pin that on Kendrick.” Judd addressed Garrett. “It’s common knowledge Kendrick had a hand in her sinking.”
“If it’s common knowledge, why wasn’t he arrested?” Garrett asked.
“Same reason he wasn’t brought up on charges in the burning of the
Mystic
fifteen years ago,” Judd said. “Not enough evidence. That time we lost three and one was a fifteen-year-old girl. Kendrick’s got everyone scared shitless out here. I’d sure like to catch him at something and throw his ass in jail.”
Skip brought them back to his list. “We need to keep an eye out for the
Mary Jane.
Word is she’s doing more than fishing. We’ll need to inform DEA if we catch any drug activity.” Skip glanced at his clipboard. “Last on the list are the Savonskis.”
Garrett uncrossed his legs and sat up. “Who’d you say?”
“Savonskis. You familiar with them?”
“The grandparents were on my flight.” Garrett didn’t feel inclined to mention he’d been invited for dinner tomorrow night.
“Sonya Savonski has thrown in with the drifters. According to the district registration cards she turned in, she’s planning on set netting
and
drifting this summer. There’s bound to be trouble.”
“That’s it.” Skip laid his clipboard down and stretched out his own legs. “Unless you guys have something else to add.”
“I’ve got something,” Judd said. “What’s that new wife of yours been feeding you?”
Skip actually blushed. “Wren’s pregnant, and I guess I’ve been a little sympathetic to her situation.” He rubbed his belly. “I’ve been cutting back on the carbs.”
“Well, with this knucklehead’s surfboard, and you eating for two, the fishermen will think we’ve gone soft and take advantage.”
“Just let ’em try.” Garrett smiled.
A
BOUT THE
A
UTHOR
Photo by: Kelli Ann Morgan
Tiffinie Helmer is an award-winning author who is always up for a gripping adventure. Raised in Alaska, she was dragged “Outside” by her husband, but escapes the lower forty-eight to spend her summers commercial fishing on the Bering Sea.
A wife and mother of four, Tiffinie divides her time between enjoying her family, throwing her acclaimed pottery, and writing of flawed characters in unique and severe situations.
To learn more about Tiffinie and her books, please visit
F
UN
F
ACTS
about the author
- Tiffinie spends most of her summers working as a commercial salmon fisherman (er, woman), in Bristol Bay on the Bering Sea of Alaska.
- She has a Green Tea Frappuccino addiction. And no, she does not require a 12 step program because she is perfectly happy with her addiction.
- Goes weak in the knees for “muscle cars.” Mustangs, Camaros, and Chargers are right at the top of her list to own, race, or just sit in.
- She is an accomplished potter with her own studio. When she’s not writing, fishing or traveling, you can usually find her throwing clay on her wheel.
- Is a gypsy at heart, with a wandering spirit and restless feet.
- Has a secret crush on Daniel Craig, which her husband quietly tolerates.
- Enjoys flying in airplanes or being on the ocean, yet she suffers from motion sickness. When deep sea fishing, she’s always the first one to chum the waters. That’s usually when the fishing really gets started. Coincidence? I think not.
A
LSO BY
T
IFFINIE
H
ELMER
N
OVELLAS
Impact
Moosed Up
Dreamweaver
Bearing All (sequel to Edge)
B
UNDLE
Wild Men of Alaska
A
CKNOWLEDGEMENTS
First to my brother, Indy Walton, who instructed me in how to take off, fly, and land a float plane on “totally freaking water.” Any mistakes in the telling are his and not mine. Feel free to send him any complaints you might have. Love you, bro.
To my many critique partners who have bleed ink over this story: Cindy Stark, Kerri Leroy, Jennifer Laurens, Jennifer Mardesich, Mikki Kells, Heidi Turner, Kerrigan Byrne, and Heather Wallace. Thank you for the slicing and dicing and helping me wax on the final polish.
To Christine Witthohn of Book Cents Literary Agency for taking a chance and signing me on as a client with this book. May it propel us into orbit.
Table of Contents