Unsafe Haven Read Free Page B

Denn came under Chief Hughey’s wing as a rookie, but received the title of Chief a week after Stan retired and moved back to Nome.
    For better or worse, Denn was in Staamat to stay. He had a sister to raise and hopefully guide into a productive life, and a job that, while it might not fulfill him the way he’d hoped, at least kept him from being bored.
    “Well, here’s your ride.” Thom Bank’s cheerful comment focused Kendall’s attention on something other than staring at the empty bottle of Pepsi in her hand, and she looked up as a silver Chevy Suburban pulled into the dirt-packed parking lot. The light bar atop the roof indicated she was about to be taxied around Staamat by the local police, something she’d rather not come into contact with. Which was silly, since in a small town such as this, she’d be bound to cross paths with a cop, sooner or later. With a sigh, she got to her feet and collected her bags.
    The man emerging from the Suburban was tall, broad in the shoulders and narrow in the hip. An absurd amount of black hair, visible beneath the cap he wore, fell in a silky tangle to pool inside the collar of a bulky leather jacket emblazoned on each sleeve with his rank. His dark blue pants molded to his hips and long legs before they tucked into heavy black boots. Despite the gloom of the day, sunglasses shielded his eyes. She could see high cheekbones, a sharp blade of a nose and full, curving lips set above a squared-off jawline.
    He strode to the platform and caught Thom’s hand in a firm grip. “Good to see you, my friend. How’s Melinda?” The voice coming out of that strong, tanned throat was low and flowed like velvet. Kendall’s stomach pitched and clenched, deep inside.
    No. No, no, no. Damn it. She had to suck in a deep breath and hold it, just to remain steady on her feet. And against her will, another voice came to mind, another just as low and velvety, murmuring in her ear while his hands curved around her neck, and squeezed . . .
    She swore the blood froze in her veins. Thom grasped her arm to keep her from keeling over. “Ms. Martin, you all right? Ms. Martin?”
    Kendall’s eyes met his as she swayed in his grip. With difficulty she brought the face into focus: the curly gray hair, concerned blue eyes, and the broad, ruddy cheeks. Thom Banks, her pilot. She shuddered and struggled for control. The tall cop had stepped closer and taken her other arm. Kendall gazed up at him helplessly as both men eased her onto the chair she’d just vacated.
    “What’s going on? Has she been sick?” He removed his sunglasses and laid them aside before squatting down in front of her. He placed the back of his hand against her forehead. “Miss, have you been sick lately?”
    She stared at him. This close, he was ridiculously handsome. His eyes were deep amber instead of the black she’d half-expected. Yet he had to be Native, for those cheekbones and high-bridged nose couldn’t belong to any other ethnicity. His lips quirked into a reassuring smile, and she swallowed, hard.
    Not Roy. Not Roy. She repeated it to herself several times, while her pounding heart slowed down.
    “Miss—” The cop looked up at Thom, questioningly.
    “Martin. Kendall Martin. From Oregon, right?” Thom addressed her, forcing Kendall to concentrate, and he gave a satisfied nod at her faint smile.
    “Yes. I’m so sorry.” Her voice sounded weak. She coughed, and tried again. “You can let go. Honest, I’m all right,” she insisted, as they continued to hold her steady. Slowly, Thom released her arm and on the other side, the cop did the same.
    Thom stood back but the cop remained on his knees and observed her for a few seconds before he extended his hand. “I’m Denn Nulo, Miss Martin. It’s nice to meet you. Feeling better?”
    The voice was not as low, not as smooth, as when he first spoke. The similarity she heard—and panicked over—mostly gone, Kendall found she could breathe easier.
    Yet she flushed