Chapter 21
Chapter Twenty-One
Sitting with his brothers, Ace angled back in his chair at the round table closest to the stone fireplace at Sam’s, the heat pressing against one side of his body while the rest of him still carried the chill from outside.
Sam’s always smelled like woodsmoke and spilled beer, with a trace of old varnish baked into the beams overhead.
A couple of locals lingered at the far end of the bar, boots hooked on the rungs of their stools, low voices blending with the hum of the refrigeration units behind the counter.
Christian cleared his throat.
Ace looked over at him immediately. “You okay?”
Truth be told, Christian looked a little pale under the overhead lights.
“C?” Brock asked.
Christian looked at them. “Amka’s pregnant.”
Ace’s jaw almost hit the floor. For a split second, the crackle of the fire behind him seemed louder than everything else. “Oh, wow.”
“Congrats.” Damian slapped Christian on the back hard enough to jolt the table.
“Thanks.” Christian gave a tight nod. “Yep.” He did look faintly green.
Brock grinned. “Hey, that’s great news.”
“Yeah.” Christian inhaled slowly. “Couple of things.”
Ace leaned forward, forearms on the table. This was Christian. It was going to be interesting. “What’s up?”
“First, we’re getting married this Saturday. You’re all in the wedding.”
“Okay,” Ace said without hesitation. A week was nothing in Knife’s Edge. People built decks in less time. “What else?”
Christian sighed. “She still wants me to go to training. So I’ll be out of town.”
Ah. There it was.
“We’ve got her covered,” Brock said immediately.
“I promise.” Ace held Christian’s gaze. Christian waited for it—the nod. Ace gave it, solid and steady. Damian and Brock nodded too.
Damian planted a hand on the table. “Of course we’ve got her. I’ll come into town more often while you’re gone.”
“And you can come back on weekends, right?” Brock added. “She can fly up and see you.”
“Yeah.” Christian’s attention shifted fully to Ace now. The firelight caught in his eyes. “I need you to fly again. There’s nobody I want in the air with her but you.”
It felt like a punch to the solar plexus. But if his brother was asking, there was only one answer to give. Ace kept his face neutral and gave a short nod. “All right. I’ll be in the air by the time you leave.”
“I leave in a week and a half,” Christian reminded him.
“I know.” Ace had no damn clue how he was going to get in the air that fast. He’d barely managed to sit in the plane without sweating through his shirt.
He’d probably need to see Smitty every day, and apparently he’d better make an offer on that sea plane before someone else did.
Even thinking about it made his stomach turn, but underneath that was another feeling.
A pull. A flicker of anticipation that wouldn’t die.
She was a gorgeous bird. Clean lines. Power waiting.
“All right,” Brock said, dragging him back to the moment. “You want us in tuxes?”
Christian blinked, momentarily thrown, then masked it fast. “I have no idea.” He twisted in his chair and looked over his shoulder. “Amka?”
“Yes?” she called back from behind the bar, not looking up yet.
“First of all, come sit down and rest.” His voice hardened a notch. “Second, are we supposed to wear tuxes at the wedding?”
Amka calmly finished pouring from a pitcher into several beer glasses, sliding them down the bar to waiting hands. “Do you want to wear tuxes?” she called back. “And I’m just fine. I don’t need to sit down.”
Christian’s jaw ticked. “What are you going to wear?”
“I’m wearing a dress. It’s white,” she said, rolling her eyes, and amusement wandered through Ace despite everything else going on.
Christian looked at his brothers. “I think we should wear tuxes.” He said it like he had just decided the weather. “I mean, since she’s wearing a white dress and all.”
Ace would have been less surprised if Christian had leaned across the table and punched him in the face. Tuxes. In five days. In Knife’s Edge. “Where are we going to get tuxes that quickly?”
“I’ll take care of it,” Damian said without hesitation.
Christian’s lips twitched. “That’s what I hoped.”
“Not a problem.” Damian cocked his head, probably mentally sorting logistics. “Hey, Amka? Who are your bridesmaids, and do they need dresses?”
Amka handed a loaded tray to Daisy and wiped her hands on a bar towel. “My bridesmaids are May, Ophelia, and Daisy.” She plopped straws into a holder. “And yes, they need dresses. I think they were talking about flying into Fairbanks later this week.”
“If you need help, let me know. I might be able to get ahold of dresses as well, but it would probably be better if they try them on. I know the sizes of all the guys.” Damian looked back at Amka. “What color cummerbunds do you want?”
“If you go in tuxes, just make them all black and white,” she said.
Christian’s broad shoulders relaxed. “Can we wear boots?”
A couple of men at the bar chuckled quietly at that.
“Honey, you can wear whatever you want,” Amka called back, moving down the bar to refill a glass. “Wait. I take that back. No flip-flops.”
“I would not wear flip-flops,” Christian said flatly.
“Brock would,” Damian added.
Brock coughed. “I would not.”
“What else can we do?” Ace asked, directing the question toward Amka.
“Not much. May is going to take pictures and be in the wedding, and I think Ophelia and Daisy are already planning how to decorate.” Amka looked at Brock. “We’re thinking about closing all of Main Street, if that’s okay with the sheriff.”
“Sure,” Brock said. “We can block off both ends. That’s no big deal.”
“Thank you.” Amka smiled, and even from across the room, the relief in it was visible.
“You need to sit down and rest,” Christian said again.
“I am not tired,” she replied slowly.
Brock puffed out a breath. “It’s gonna be a long nine months.”
Christian muttered something under his breath, and Ace bit back a smile.
Daisy popped up beside their table, her hair in its usual wild halo. “Sorry about the wait, guys. What can I get you all?” She looked directly at Ace.
“Just coffee,” he said.
All three of his brothers stilled and looked at him.
“Ditto,” Brock said after a beat.
Christian glanced toward the bar. “I would actually like decaf, if you have it.”
Damian considered. “I’ll take a 7Up.”
Ace found loyalty all around him. “You guys, just because I’m not drinking doesn’t mean you can’t have alcohol.”
“I’m on duty,” Brock said.
“I don’t drink that much anyway,” Christian added, which was true.
“I have to drive back out to EVE,” Damian said. “The roads are muddy.”
Gratitude rose in Ace then, full and warm. These were his brothers, and this was what it looked like when they closed ranks without making a show of it.
Daisy snorted. “Crap, Ace. You quit drinking? We’re going to lose half our income.”
He shot her a look.
She winked and flounced away toward the bar.
“All right.” Damian reached into his briefcase and pulled out a file folder, placing it on the table between them. The casual tone shifted almost imperceptibly. “This is what else I found out.”
“What’s that?” Brock asked.
Ace pulled the file closer and flipped it open. “Whoa.”
“Yeah,” Damian said.
Ace scanned the first page, then the next, his jaw tightening.
Well?” Brock pushed. “What is it?”
“Apparently,” Damian said, “when good old Senator Mercer was in college, his girlfriend—”
“Ex-girlfriend,” Ace said, reading. “Went missing and was never found again.”
The fire snapped loudly, and for a second nobody spoke.
“Seriously?” Brock leaned in. “Did he have an alibi?”
“Yeah,” Damian said. “Pretty solid. He was at a fraternity formal across town, and there were plenty of witnesses and photos to back it up.”
Ace closed the file. “Where was good old Senator Mercer when a college student was murdered here a couple nights ago?”
“Showing what a natural he is in the Alaskan wilderness,” Damian answered. “He was doing live social media events and even taking questions.”
“You think his staffers would lie for him?” Brock asked.
Damian shrugged. “It’d be hard to fake live shots, but I guess it’s possible.”
“Speaking of that mess,” Ace said, shifting the file back toward Damian, “are you guys anywhere on that case?”
“Nope,” Brock said. “Though I can tell you your place was cleared. So was your truck. You should be getting the Ford back.”
“Good.” The word came out rougher than Ace intended. The last few days had felt like walking around with a target pinned to his back. He wanted whoever killed that girl found. Fast.
“We need more CCTV on the shops and buildings in town,” Brock said.
Christian shook his head immediately. “Not in a million years. Nobody’s going to go for that. We live in Alaska for a reason, Brock. People like not being watched.”
“I’m with Brock,” Damian said evenly.
Ace looked from one to the other. “I’m with Christian. We don’t want to turn into a city.”
“Yeah, but if we had CCTV, we could at least tell who left with that girl or who followed her,” Brock said grimly.
He wasn’t wrong. Before Ace could answer, the front door opened and a draft of cool evening air rolled across the floor. Ophelia stepped inside, scanning the room. She waved at Amka behind the bar and then made a beeline for them.
“Hey.” Brock pushed back from the table and tugged her down onto his lap like it was the most natural thing in the world.
“Brock,” she protested, though she was already settling in.
He tucked her closer. “What do you know?” he asked quietly.
“Not much,” she admitted. “The troopers are being real tight-lipped. I tried to have a sit-down with them earlier and they were complete buttheads about it.”
“Sorry about that,” Christian said.
“I called Dutch,” Brock added. “He’s on a case outside of Fairbanks.”
Ophelia took the file off the table. “What’s this?” She started to read. “Interesting.”
“We’re wondering if the good ole senator might’ve had something to do with that college student dying the other night.” Ace stared into the fire for a moment, watching a log shift and settle. If Mercer had a history of women disappearing around him—even if it was just rumor—he wanted to know.
“I will say,” Ophelia continued, resting one hand on the open file, “that the domestic violence assertions, as well as the missing girlfriend, were all women close to him. People he dated for a while.”
Brock brushed her hair away from her angled face. “Go on.”
“Attacking a stranger would deviate from his usual pattern,” she said. “If there even is a pattern. Keep in mind, these are just allegations, and the authorities arrested somebody for the ex-girlfriend’s disappearance.”
Christian rolled his neck. “They did?”
“Yeah,” Ophelia said quietly, still reading the file. “It looks like they arrested her cousin, who ended up taking a plea. There was bad blood between them. Some family dispute.”
“That does sound reasonable,” Damian said.
The door opened again, letting in a streak of cold air and the faint scent of snowmelt from the mountains. Ace glanced up automatically.
May stood just inside the doorway, scanning the room. When she spotted the four Ospreys clustered at their table, she faltered for half a second.
Ace crooked his finger toward her.
She lowered her chin slightly, but she walked over anyway. “Yes?” she asked when she reached them.
He wanted to pull her down onto his lap, feel her settle there like she belonged, but they weren’t quite there yet. Instead, he stood. “My dinner date is here.”
Brock grinned along with Ophelia. Damian closed the file. Christian only watched.
“See you guys later,” Ace added, already taking her hand. He led her toward the bar, the scrape of chairs and the murmur of conversation filling in behind them.
“I’m your date?” she asked, smiling up at him.
He looked down at her pretty face. “I guess I should have asked properly. Would you like to have dinner with me?”
“Sure.”
They reached the bar, where Amka was shaking ice in a metal tin, lips pursed in concentration.
“When are you going to Fairbanks?” Ace asked May quietly.
“I don’t know. Probably Thursday is the earliest I can manage. We would have to fly in, find dresses, and come back that night. I already talked to Dirk Fredrickson and he said he would fly us.”
Dirk was solid. He flew mail and passengers between small towns when weather allowed, his old plane as familiar in the sky as the mountains themselves.
“What kind of dress do you want?” Ace asked. She’d be gorgeous in anything.
“I don’t know.” May turned slightly. “Amka, what color do you want us to wear?”
Amka paused mid-shake, considering. “How about blue? You and Olly have blue eyes, and Daisy’s are green. You all should be able to wear any shade of blue.”
“Blue would be nice,” May said.
“Okay, blue,” Amka decided.
May’s hand felt good in his. Right. “Long or short?” she asked.
“I don’t care,” Amka said easily. “Find dresses you like and can move in.”
May glanced up at Ace. “Are you wearing a tux?”
“It sounds like it.” He couldn’t remember the last time he wore one. Probably some formal event years ago that felt like it belonged to another lifetime.
“Or,” May added thoughtfully, “you all could wear your uniforms.”
They had all served honorably in the Navy, each in a different specialty. The idea carried weight.
“We could,” Ace said slowly, “but I think Christian would rather do tuxes.”
“Fine by me,” Amka called cheerfully, pouring into two martini glasses and sliding them toward Daisy.
“For now,” Ace said, tightening his hold on May’s hand, “let’s have a dinner date. Amka, may we sit over there?”
Amka looked at them with open amusement. “You can sit wherever you want.” She reached for a highball glass. “You know we just have bar food, right?”
“I love bar food,” May said.
“Rudolph is one of the best cooks in the state,” Ace shot back.
“That’s right,” Rudolph yelled from the kitchen.
May grinned. “He has good ears.”
“I’ll make you whatever you want, Ace Osprey,” Rudolph called.
“There you go.” Ace guided May toward a quieter table on the other side of the bar, near the windows. “See? Dating me has its perks.”
She laughed softly as they sat, the firelight catching in her hair, and for the first time that day, the noise in his head settled into a rhythm that felt almost steady.