Two Captains, One Chair: An Alaskan Romantic Comedy (27 page)

I swayed, looking around in wonder.  In the ring, the fight continued, but the blood now appeared black.  Everything was in shades of gray, and the bloodthirsty cheers of the crowd echoed in my head.

I stumbled a bit.  Then my eyes rolled up, one of my knees gave out, and I spun around as I collapsed.

I tried really hard to hit the floor in a dead faint, but somebody prevented me.  Somebody in a flannel shirt with really nice, strong forearms.  I wound up with my nose pressed up against his very firm chest, and I took a nice, long, delirious whiff.

“Ed,” I sighed, knowing who it was without having to look up.  I didn’t do the polite thing and step away.  Instead, I wrapped my arms around his waist and let him take my weight.

He tapped my shoulder.  I finally looked up.  Seriously, when had he gotten so handsome?

“What are you doing in my fight club?” he asked.

“Uhhh… mmm?” I smiled up at him with an expression that was probably more sleepy than innocent.  Damn people for always bleeding in my presence.  I couldn’t come up with intelligent speech, let alone clever comebacks, with all the blood drained outta my brain.

I turned my head to look over at my friends.  They were watching us.

I take that back. 
Gary
was watching us.  My best friend was still screaming at the guy that had dared take a swing at her brother.

“There was no miscarriage, was there?” Ed asked.

I winced, dared to meet his gaze, and shook my head.

He made a frustrated sound—kind of a growl, actually, a deep vibration that had me hyper-aware of the hard body I was pressed up against.  Ed transferred his gaze over my head to glare at Gary.  My skin prickled with the amount of testosterone suddenly being pumped into the atmosphere.  I stared, fascinated, because this was
Ed
.  Ed didn’t straighten up to his full height and glower at someone until they backed down.  Ed didn’t tersely order Gary, the trained killer, to follow him.

And Ed most certainly did not toss me over his shoulder.  Again.

I shrieked and beat at his back a little, and when that didn’t work, I pinched his ass.  It was a rather unsuccessful pinch, as his butt was extremely firm.  He ignored my struggles, and carried me through the crowd.  Like the Red Sea, they split apart to let him pass.

Pushing up, I saw that Gary and Helly were following, though Helly was being dragged more than anything else.

Ed carried me across the room, up a couple stairs, and into a dimmer, quieter space.  This room reminded me of his house, with its polished wood floor and custom touches.  At the far end sat a huge, throne-type chair.  It had been carved out of a whole stump, and was shiny with lacquer, yet dark with age.  In the shadows next to it stood a beast of a man, the other twin in the extra-large duo—Paul, my memory supplied, recognizing this one from the long white scar stretching back from his eye.

Walking to the center of the room, Ed set me down.  Gary and Helly stopped just inside the door with a grim-faced fishing guide right behind them.

Ed took a step back, and when he gently grasped my chin, I was forced to look up at him. 
Ooo,
he looked kinda upset.  I felt smug, having found out his secret. 
Fight club.  Ha!

“What the hell were you thinking?” he demanded.

“Uh…”  I really had no idea what he was talking about.

“I called you at least a dozen times today, and you never answered.  I called Helly at least as many times.  No one returned my calls.  Not even a text.  I flew to town, Suzy, looking for you.  I checked at the hospitals.”  His eyes were dark, his face drawn.

My mouth dropped into an ‘o’ as I took in his expression.  The brothers hadn’t bothered Ed with their needling, but I sure as hell had with my lie.  I hadn’t thought he would follow me to town…

“Ed,” I said quietly, tentatively, “it’s too early for me to miscarry your baby.”  But maybe telling that particular story hadn’t been the best idea.

He squeezed his eyes shut a second.  “I know,” he rasped.  His fingers stroked down my cheek.  His eyes opened again, and I saw that I’d really freaked him out.  “It didn’t matter if it was mine,” he muttered.

My lips stretched into a gentle smile.

His expression started to soften as he gazed down at me, but then his gaze flicked to Helly and Gary, and his eyes shuttered.  “Furthermore,” he said, louder, “you faint at the sight of blood, and yet you just had to let yourself into my fight club.  Not only that, but you went ahead and pushed your way up until your face was practically pressed to the chain link.  You could have been crushed when you went down.  Trampled!”

I opened my mouth.

“And what’s more,” he continued, “you’re a damn gossip who’s not supposed to be in here in the first place.  You’ve officially seen too much. 
Now
what am I supposed to do with you?”

“A spanking seems like a good place to start,” Gary suggested.

“And
you
,” Ed said.

Gary stood there with his tranq rifle held loosely, and it surprised me that no one had taken it from him.  At the same time,
I
wouldn’t have volunteered for that job.

“Did you shoot anybody with that thing?” Ed asked.

“Well, yeah, but it’s non-lethal.  The couple guys upstairs are just taking a little nap behind the bar.”

Ed rubbed the spot between his brows.  “Dean,” he said, “could you go check on them, please?”

The scowling guy nodded and disappeared from the doorway, leaving the three of us alone with Ed and Paul, the scarred giant.

Ed started to pace.  He moved to my right, and then back across to my left.  He combed his fingers through his hair, disheveling it even further.

I watched him, helplessly fascinated.  This Ed acted like a completely different man than the one I’d originally talked to over a week ago.  This one stood straight, moved decisively.  When he glanced my way, he met my eyes dead-on, and his gaze was full of emotion—censure, mostly.  His clothes were still baggy, but now I knew just exactly what he was hiding under them.

He finally stopped in front of me.  “Can you swear to me,” he said, “that you won’t speak of my operation with anyone?”

I frowned.  “Two questions: Why are you trying to keep it a secret, and who’s left to tell?  It looked like the whole population of the river in there.”

“The first rule is, you don’t talk about fight club,” Gary said from the doorway.  He grinned as he got both of our attention.  “Fight clubs are illegal.  There’re usually assault charges, disturbing the peace, and the authorities will also get you for illegal gambling.”  He shrugged, looking unperturbed as he glanced back through the doorway.  “I wish I’d gotten here soon enough to bet on J.D.”

Somehow, I didn’t think the ex-hitman would be tattling on Ed.

“The women don’t know,” Ed said.

“The
women
don’t know?” I asked, instantly irritated.  Yet another shining example of sexism on the river.  “
None
of them?”

Ed shook his head.  “Only you two, now.”

“Well, that’s just rotten,” Helly said, turning away from the doorway.  “What if we want to break up the monotony of bush life and watch a fight?” Helly demanded.  “Hell, what if we want to participate?”

Gary chuckled.  “I’m sure there’d be demand for women fighting, but it’d probably involve very little clothing and a kiddie pool full of mud.”  She glared at him, and he grinned down at her.  “Don’t worry, sweetheart.  I’d bet on you.”

“Let me get this straight,” I said to Ed.  “Everybody on the river knows about this illegal operation, except the women?”

He nodded, then hesitated.  “Well… and your dad.”

Which made sense, so I didn’t question it.  But, “Did Gary know?”  If the ex-hitman had pulled the wool over our eyes so thoroughly, I was gonna kill him.

“Nope,” said Gary, even as Ed said, “No.  We were planning on waiting a year, feeling him out before seeing if he wanted to join.”

“And the brothers?”

“Just J.D.  The other two…”  Ed shook his head.

I nodded.  Again, made total sense.  “And you’ve been operating how long?”

Ed’s eyes narrowed on me.

“Years?”

He said nothing.

“You’ve been here for years, beknownst to most of the males in the community, and you haven’t been reported yet.  What makes you think the women knowing would make any sort of difference?  Hell, my guess is they wouldn’t even care.”

“The women would care,” Gary drawled.  “Helly, hon, how would you feel about me coming here tomorrow night and getting my face all messed up?”

She glowered over at him.  “You’d be the one messing up faces, but for the sake of argument, if you came home all busted up, I’d be pissed.”

“Boss, we’ve got a complaint,” a voice interrupted.

We all turned toward the door, where the guides were shoving a sandy-haired man into the room.  He was wearing fisherman duds, state of the art ones with an extra helping of snaps and mesh, made of material which probably ‘breathed’ better than an Olympic athlete.  His grooming and near-orange tan set him apart from the locals in an instant. 
Mr. Carrot
, I immediately dubbed him.

He strode right up to Ed, ignoring me as though I didn’t exist.  “I want my money back,” he hissed.  “Your little operation cheated me out of five grand.”

“Cheated you?” Ed asked.

“Your fights are rigged.  There is no way that little guy should have won.  I want my money back,” Carrot repeated.  He looked at Ed expectantly, as if he was just going to dig into his pocket and slap the money in his hand.

I was still pissed off about the sexist thing, so I guess the orange tourist was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.  That, and he was interrupting my confrontation with Ed.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” I demanded.

The sandy-haired fisherman blinked at me, just then realizing I was there.

“You gamble, you lose.  That’s how it works.  That’s why there are casinos out there, big, sprawling operations with million-dollar gold nuggets on display like just another trinket,” I said, remembering that little tidbit from my internet search. “Because gambling is a losing proposition designed to relieve you of your money.”

“If you don’t give me my money back,” Carrot said, looking between me and Ed now, “I’m going to tell everyone about this little operation of yours.  You’ll be shut down and sent to jail.  Is that worth $5,000 to you?”

I looked up at Ed.  “Do you have to deal with idiots like this often?”

“Yup.”  He tucked his hands in his front pockets, looking relaxed, and content to find out what I’d say next.

I rounded on the tourist.  “That ‘little guy’ that won,” I said, fairly certain he was referring to J.D., “is a world-class professional fighter.  If you didn’t do your research before you bet against him, that’s your own damn idiot fault.”

I gestured for Paul, who still lurked in the shadows.  Paul glanced at Ed, Ed gave a small nod, and Paul stepped closer.  He loomed at over six and a half feet tall, with a bull neck and thighs the size of tree trunks.

I glared up into the poor loser’s washed-out blue eyes.  “Now, if you don’t shut your whiny mouth and man up, we’re going to have Paul, here, rearrange your face.  Is that worth $5,000 to you?”

The man looked at me, and then at Paul.  I wasn’t scary in the least, but the big guy sure as shit was.  He had one expression, and that was a menacing glower.  He crossed his arms and leveled his trademark at the human carrot.

The complainer backed up a step.

“You could recoup your losses,” Ed suggested, “if you want to climb into the ring.  I’m sure J.D. would be willing to prove his skills on you.  Even losers win a thousand dollars.  Stay five rounds, and…”

I smiled.  “That sounds fair.  You
should
put him in with J.D.  Let the ‘little guy’ whoop his ass.”

Mr. Carrot was shaking his head.  “You,” he said suddenly.  “I’ll fight
you
for my $5,000.”

“Me?” Ed asked.  “I’m the Guidefather.”

“The Guidefather?” I asked.

“That’s a stupid title,” the man scoffed.

Paul took a step closer and Ed held up a hand, keeping him from ripping the idiot’s head off.  To me, Ed explained, “It was a title held by my father, and which he passed down to me.  Guidefather.”

I was sure my face still reflected puzzlement.

“It means I’m in charge,” Ed clarified.

“But anyway,” Carrot said, shifting back a bit, “you look like you’re not a total wuss.  Get in the ring with me, let me fight you for the money.”

“And what do I get when I win?” Ed asked.

Carrot made an impatient sound. “You get to keep my $5,000.”

“I’m already keeping it,” Ed said.  “Name something else.”

The man shifted around, looking from Paul to Ed and back again.  “Um… I brought my wife.  She’s real pretty.  Maybe she could—”