1 Chapter 1

Dedicated to…you know who.

The last of the sun’s dying rays stretched across the frozen land, tingeing the hard-packed snow a dusky rose. A few miles south of the small mining town called Aliak, the makings of a low campfire struggled to burn among the jagged foothills. A man sat hunched over the fire, his weathered face exposed to the elements beneath a fur-lined cap. He wore a black duster jacket, ragged and worn, over which was thrown the treated hide of a grizzly. When the wind blew in fitful gusts through the trees, the bear’s fur stood up along the man’s back, enhancing his already large bulk.

Nearby, twenty-two-year-old Emmett Ward stood on a rugged outcropping and peered through an old set of binoculars at the quiet town nestled in the snow-covered valley below. He stood tall against the cold and the wind, a scarf pulled up over his mouth and nose to protect his face. Each gust tugged at his blond curls, tumbling them together atop his head in a disheveled manner, like a master petting a favorite dog. A patchwork of hides covered Emmett’s thin frame, shielding the rest of him from the weather.

Weariness ached in his bones, and he grimaced at the unsavory thought of spending another night sleeping on the hard ground by the evening’s meager fire. Alaska was a harsh land, he was discovering. One he didn’t care for much. What ground wasn’t covered in snow was frozen solid—the cold ate into a man’s bones, stiffening his muscles and making sleep impossible. Any fire Jack managed to light would barely give enough warmth to cook by, let alone stave off the chill.

If the fire even took. In this wind? Emmett doubted it.

As he listened to his partner curse the low flames, Emmett raised the binoculars again and adjusted the sight to hone in on the warm glow of a tavern window down in Aliak. What he wouldn’t give to sit by that fire. Keeping his voice light, he called out, “You get it going yet?”

“Shut the fuck up,” Jack growled.

Emmett laughed at the malice curled in his partner’s voice. Jack Robison might be one of the most feared bounty hunters in all the western territory, but Emmett had been with him long enough to be able to read his moods. Jack’s bad attitude stemmed from their arduous journey—they’d spent most of the day trekking through desolate wilderness over rocky ground, heads bent against wind that cut through their clothing like a sharp boning knife. The morning’s light had seen them disembark from a whaling ship that had agreed to take them north from Juneau; a week ago, they’d been at a logging camp in Oregon, trying not to kill each other after getting hampered down by a sudden blizzard. Jack hated the cold. Traveling so far north this late in the year pissed him off.

Emmett also suspected their reason for being in the frigid clime in the first place bothered Jack. In two days dog sleds would race through Aliak, and the town’s narrow streets would be lined with spectators out to watch the mushers and their mutts. Local bookies took bets on the race—small change gambling, nothing that would normally interest the two men out on the ridge. But word had it the race was rigged this year, and the odds favored Lin Ji, a Korean gangster gouging a name for himself in Seward’s Folly.

Where Lin Ji went, his cutthroat mother Kim couldn’t be far behind.

Last week, Emmett had squeezed next to Jack in a wooden booth of a dodgy bar down in Oregon while across from them sat a nameless messenger, face hidden in a dark cowl. On the table between them had been placed a pouch straining with an obscene number of gold coins. Real gold; Jack bit into one to ensure its worth. The courier had given them instructions in writing, a nondescript block print on a page torn from the back of a Bible. No words had been spoken. No niceties exchanged. The note read simply, Lin Ji, and provided coordinates to Aliak and a date two days hence. The money was theirs upon return.

Though Jack hadn’t said it, Emmett knew this bounty worried him. He could see it in the nervous way Jack chewed the inside of his lip as he stacked the wood for the fire, in the scowl furrowing his brow, in the anger blazing in his one icy eye. And if it worried Jack, Emmett thought maybe it should worry the hell out of him, too.

Lowering the binoculars a second time, Emmett ran a hand through his curls to corral them, but the moment he opened his fingers, the wind played with his hair again. He pulled up the hood of his coat, its fur lining protecting him from the worst of the gusts, and turned from Aliak. They’d enter the town tomorrow, sometime after dawn, when they could blend in with others traveling to enjoy the race. If they approached tonight, their appearance so late in the day would surely be noticed, and even in the wilds of Alaska, a countenance like Jack’s would stand out.

Returning to their fire, Emmett watched Jack hunch over the pit he’d dug earlier as he tried to start a flame. Jack’s movements were sharp and fast, angry, his lips drawn down in an ugly scowl that matched the white jagged scar low across his right cheek. Emmett approached from his right, unable to see his good eye from this angle. Jack wore a black patch over the right one, which Emmett caught sight of when the sound of his steps caused Jack to turn. One hand flew into Jack’s coat, where Emmett knew he kept his gun.

Seeing it was only him, Jack swore. “Jesus, boy. Sit the fuck down or I’ll shoot you down.”

Emmett tossed the binoculars onto his bedroll and skirted around their fire to sit on Jack’s left. “Don’t take it out on me.” Despite the fifteen year gap in their ages, Emmett didn’t scare easily. He’d been with Jack for too long. “Who took this damn job in the first place? You.”

Jack glared at a small lick of flame struggling to curl into their tinder. “Shut it.”

Wrapping his coat tighter around his thin frame, Emmett stared into the firewood and snuck glances at his partner. Not for the first time, he wondered what those thick arms might feel like around his narrow shoulders. He’d felt their strength before, when Jack had leaned through the open door of a railway car and scooped Emmett up beside him, or when a bounty opened fire and Jack pushed Emmett behind him, out of harm’s way. He knew enough of Jack’s brusque touch to want more, and most nights lay awake wishing for the courage to close the distance separating his bedroll from Jack’s.

The quiet between them stretched out like the night sky above. Emmett dared to scoot toward Jack, only partly to avoid the wind. He’d take any little thing he could get of his partner, even if it were just being near the older man for a moment or two. If Jack could trust Emmett with his life—and he did, Emmett knew—why couldn’t he entrust Emmett with his heart?

“Do you have to get right up on me?” Jack groused, elbowing Emmett for more room.

Emmett just moved closer still, until his hip bumped Jack’s. “It’s cold.”

With a quick bark of laughter, Jack muttered, “No shit. Get used to it.”

Silence descended again. Jack stared at their fire, which had finally taken hold among the tinder and now lapped at the logs. Emmett watched Jack’s face—the slight frown on his narrow lips, the stubble of hair on his unshaven cheek that looked like dirt in the firelight, the pale blue eye that moved constantly in its socket. Jack kept a steady watch, glancing first at the flames, then at the hills beyond its meager light, then at Emmett, the fire, Emmett again.

When he saw Emmett staring, he huffed and shook his head. “What?”

His elbow rested against Emmett’s belly, the touch hardly felt through the layers of clothing they wore. But Emmett welcomed the weight, and the press of Jack’s arm draped over his leg. Leaning against Jack a little, Emmett lowered his voice so his partner would have to strain to hear it. “You’re thinking about Kim Ji, aren’t you?”

“Lin’s our target.” Jack pushed Emmett out of his personal space, voice hard and cold. “Get the fuck off me.”

Emmett had only wanted to get Jack talking. When they sat together, he could feel Jack’s gruff voice reverberate through his own body—it teased his libido, and made him want something more. Sometimes, when they were alone on a hunt or holed up together waiting for their next job, Emmett would catch glimpses of the man beneath Jack’s tough exterior. When it was just the two of them, Jack might let him get close—physically, yes, the way they sat now, but emotionally as well. Sometimes, talk between them grew soft and intimate. No harsh words, no angry tones. Just two men, alone together. At those times, Emmett felt he stood on the cusp of friendship, and the right word, the right touch, would send them tumbling into one bedroll, lovers at last.

But he had to mention Kim Ji. If there were one person in all the world who could terrify Jack, it was the demure but deadly crime boss known as the Dragon Lady.

Undeterred, Emmett resumed his position, his knee pressing alongside Jack’s. “What do you know of him?” he asked, meaning Lin.

Jack grunted, his standard response. “Much as you.”

No, Emmett doubted that. Lin Ji was the reason the two men now traveled together. It’d been years ago, Emmett just a teenager and Jack already building the ruthless reputation that still preceded him. A hit had been out on Lin Ji at the time—come to think of it, a hit was alwaysout on the guy. Jack had tried to cash in on it but something had gone wrong, something he still refused to talk about, even to Emmett, and he’d wound up in Oregon, beaten and bound in one of Kim Ji’s warehouses off the wharf.

Emmett shut his eyes against the painful memory of Jack’s once rugged face bloodied from abuse. The scar on his cheek stemmed from that time, as did the patch covering the empty socket where his eye had been. With a sigh, Emmett rested his chin against Jack’s arm and murmured, “We’ll get him this time.”

Another grunt, noncommittal. Jack shrugged but Emmett didn’t allow himself to be moved. “Get off me,” Jack said, his voice low. There was no malice in it, nothing mean, and Emmett chose to ignore him.

* * * *

Later, when the world around them grew black as pitch, their fire the only light interrupting the night, Jack gutted and cleaned the rabbits he’d shot earlier. With a long stick, Emmett held the meat over the fire, turning it carefully so as not to burn it. Fat sizzled as the logs cracked, their scant warmth holding back the evening chill. When the meal was cooked, the men ate in a comfortable silence. Once or twice Jack elbowed Emmett over, hoping for more room, but Emmett didn’t give another inch. After a while, Jack gave up.

As the fire gutted low among the tinder, Emmett leaned back, one hand on the ground behind Jack. His partner shrugged, as if that would somehow give him more space, but it didn’t. For a long moment, Emmett stared into the flickering flames, gathering up his courage. It was cold, he’d reason, and the shelf on which they had camped was open to the elements. Perhaps they could push the bedrolls together, just for the night. Emmett thought if he could only close the gap between them, nature would take over and do the rest. He’d wake in Jack’s embrace, his body still humming from the older man’s attention. Maybe if Emmett said it was too cold; how could he argue with that? “Jack…”

Out beyond their firelight, a twig snapped. Jack jerked his head, instantly alert. Emmett fisted his hand in the hide covering Jack’s back. “What was that?” he whispered.

A small scurry of stones answered him. In one fluid motion, Jack stood and drew his pistol. Before Emmett could speak, Jack hissed, “Shh.”

Emmett strained to hear something else, anything, over the quiet fire. He heard nothing, and wondered if it hadn’t been an animal of some kind when Jack leveled his gun and fired.

The report was deafening. Jack aimed a second time. “Show yourself,” he called, raising his voice. To Emmett, he muttered, “Bastard’s been following us since Juneau.”

“What?” Emmett clambered to his feet, ears ringing from the shot. Why hadn’t Jack said something earlier?

In the silence, Jack cocked the pistol. “Get the fuck outhere,” he warned.

From the darkness came a man’s voice, jovial and light. “All right already, Jack. Hold up, will you?”

“Who is it?” Emmett wanted to know. “And why didn’t you tell me we were being followed?”

Jack’s frown deepened. “You should’ve known.”

Slowly a tall shape extracted itself from the shadows. As the stranger stepped into the circle of light thrown by their fire, a chill passed through Emmett. He took in the weathered cloak covering tight denim pants and a dark shirt, the long rifle slung over one shoulder, the ten-gallon Stetson pulled low over the stranger’s face, and wondered how this man knew Jack by name. A fellow bounty hunter? An old friend?

The disgust that flitted across Jack’s face as he holstered his pistol suggested otherwise. He took his seat again by the fire, dismissing the stranger. Tossing a small bundle of sticks into the flames, Jack growled, “What the hell do you want?”

The stranger shrugged easily. When he pushed the hat back from his face, he grinned wolfishly at Emmett, his thin, dark beard enhancing his lupine appearance. Tapping the hat firmly into place, he drawled, “Where’d you pick up the kid, Jack? He’s too damn pretty to be your type.”

Emmett blushed. The stranger couldn’t be much older than he was himselfClearing his throat, he said, “I’m not a kid.”

“So I see.” The stranger’s gaze trailed down Emmett’s body, audacious, before rising to meet Emmett’s eyes. That look felt invasive almost, as if the man could see through the bulk Emmett wore and behold the body beneath. Emmett’s cheeks burned furiously, more so when the stranger winked. “Can’t imagine Jack will introduce us. Niceties have never been his strong suit. The name’s Monty Becker. Pleasure’s all mine. And you are…?”

“Emmett.” He took the hand Monty offered. Its grip was strong and sure, but Monty didn’t let go right away—his palm burned in Emmett’s, his wicked grin never faltering. With difficulty, Emmett shook him off. “Do you know Jack?”

Monty laughed. “We go way back. You two mind if I join you?”

Without waiting for a response, he sank down to sit by their fire, folding his long legs Indian-style in front of him. Emmett, all too aware that he alone still stood, took his own seat again beside Jack. This time, the elbow in his side was quick and sharp, roughly pushing him away. “I didn’t say sit,” Jack muttered, his voice as cold as the night around them.

“I didn’t really ask,” Monty replied. When he saw Emmett scoot aside, an oily grin slid over his face. “So One-Eyed Jack has himself a boy…”

Before Emmett could blink, Jack’s pistol flashed out from beneath the folds of his coat. Aiming at Monty, he glared down the barrel and swore softly, “Another word and you die tonight.”

“We’re partners,” Emmett offered, hoping to diffuse the situation.

It didn’t work. Monty’s sly grin and insolent manner only made matters worse. Jack cocked the pistol a second time, his gaze steely across the fire. “Get out.”

Emmett touched Jack’s arm and tried to lower it, but Jack wouldn’t budge. “Jack, please.” He clenched his fist in Jack’s coat, feeling bunched muscles under his hand. When he pushed against Jack’s arm a second time, Jack gave a little, just an inch, but it was something at least. Softly, Emmett asked, “Do you think you can just blow him away up here? Half the town already heard your first shot. Another will raise suspicions and Lin will know we’re here.”

“Lin?” Monty asked, turning his attention to Emmett. His dark eyes were mesmerizing, and Emmett couldn’t look away from the flames flickering in their depths. “As in Kim Ji’s son? You guys are after him, too?”

Emmett started in surprise. “You mean you—”

“Shut up, Emmett.” Jack glared at his partner as he lowered his pistol. “You don’t have to tell him what the fuck we’re doing here.”

“I already figured it out.” Monty tipped his hat and winked at Emmett as if thanking him for the information. Emmett blushed—that wink did it to him. “Why else would you be here, Jack? Since your run-in with Kim, everyone knowsyou hunt the Jis. If it’s not Lin, it’s one of the others. So who’re you working for?”

Jack scowled and busied himself with reholstering his pistol. When it became obvious he wouldn’t to reply, Emmett admitted, “We don’t know.”

“Emmett!” Jack cried, rage written across his face. “Keep your damn mouth shut.”

Monty edged around the fire, scooting closer to Emmett. He leaned across the distance separating them, his voice low so Emmett had to lean forward to hear it. “You don’t know, you say?” The intense way Monty stared made Emmett’s stomach flutter, bringing an involuntary smile to his lips. “How’s that work, exactly? How can you not know who hired you?”

“There was a courier,” Emmett admitted.

Jack slapped the side of Emmett’s head with the back of his hand. The blow stung but didn’t hurt—it was meant to silence him, nothing more. But Emmett bit his lower lip to keep it from trembling because he knew Jack was angry, and now it was his fault. When the bounty hunter got into one of his moods, he was horrid for days.