Beautiful Criminal (2 page)

Mary nodded resolutely and headed back to man the teams.

Eerie silence charged the air as Mima faced the plane, every muscle in her body tight. The plane was so crumpled she couldn’t tell if it had wheels or skis.

She pulled herself up to look into the cockpit and gasped. A man lay slumped over the steering wheel, his head leaning against the dashboard. Somehow he had managed to stay in his seat even though he wore no seat belt. His skin appeared gray, and dried blood covered the left side of his face.

“There’s a pilot here,” Mima shouted. “I think he’s dead.”

Mary’s eyes widened. “Did you check his pulse?”

With a trembling hand, Mima reached through the busted window and pressed her fingertips to his throat. The pilot twitched, and she yanked her hand back as if burned. “He’s alive! We need to get him out of here fast.”

She examined the crumpled pilot door, her mind racing with a plan. “Hang in there, buddy.”

The whole right side of the plane was buried deep in the snow, lodged against the birch tree, and the left side must have hit the ground first, which caused it to crumple. As she glanced back at the dogs, an idea suddenly came to her. Using the team’s strength to pull the door might be the pilot’s only hope.

“Mary, unhook my team and bring them over. I need them to pull the door open.”

Mima stayed with the pilot as Mary rushed back to her sled. She removed the gangline connecting the dogs to the sled and secured it to the hook line. Holding Nitchie’s collar, Mary then guided the team to the plane. After a few minutes struggling to set them up straight ahead of the door, she tossed Mima the snow hook to wrap around the handle of the pilot door.

Excited and charged-up, the dogs barked and jumped—their instinct ready to pull.

Mima tied the hook end around the door handle. When she was sure the hook would hold, she motioned for Mary to stand by the dogs. “They need to pull hard or this door won’t budge.”

“Okay.” Mary jumped and clapped her hands, revving up the team, and shouted, “Hike hard!”

The team lunged forward, pulling the gangline taut and snapping the crisp air like a whip. Metal creaked and groaned, shifting from the frame as the dogs worked the line. “Hike!” Another hard tug and the door broke away, hurtling into the snow behind the wheel dogs.

“Whoa!” Mary lunged for Nitchie, the lead dog, and grabbed his collar before they took off down the trail without their musher.

“Now for the fun part,” Mima said when Mary returned. “He’s not a small guy.”

Mary glanced inside. “Maybe if we both take an arm we can pull him out. We’re not
that
weak.”

Each of them grabbed a shoulder and tugged hard, dragging his limp, heavy body out of the cockpit and onto Mima’s sled. They tucked him in tight with the blankets she always had on board. When the hard part was over, the girls both sighed in unison.

Mary stared at the frozen pilot, her face a mask of curious uncertainty. “Should we get him to town?”

If it were a perfect world, this wouldn’t have happened to begin with, and even though Mima knew the pilot needed medical assistance, the sun had already begun to set. They’d never make it in time. Sledding at night around here was too dangerous.

She contemplated the best course of action. “It’ll be dark soon, and he needs heat. Besides, you still need to make it home too.” She looked around the surrounding bush, thinking she didn’t want to bring him home where she lived alone. But how dangerous could a half-dead man be? “Let’s bring him to my place and see what happens first. I could always radio a rescue chopper in the morning if he needs it.”

Mary patted the man’s shoulder. “You’re lucky we found you, buddy.” Then she went back to her sled and yanked her snow hook out of the ground.

“Hike!”

Both teams jumped at the command and surged forward. They maintained a brisk pace, pushing the dogs to the peak of their power and speed. As she pulled away from the crash site, Mima looked back in the direction of the plane.
What was he doing flying alone way out here?
Sure, plane crashes happened often enough, but flying over this area during midwinter was like knocking on death’s door. This range of mountains was known for its turbulent winds.

Either the pilot lost direction or he
had
to fly over this area. Either way, he had a rabbit’s foot up his ass that she and Mary had taken the old trail today. Otherwise, he would have died out here, alone, in that wreck of a plane.

* * * *

A couple hours later, Mima and Mary stood at the foot of the bed in Mima’s cabin. They stared down at the stranger, each one lost in their own thoughts.

“Where do you think he’s from?” Mary asked quietly.

“I don’t know, but I’ve never seen a man around here with that many earrings.” Two gold hoops in one ear, and a single diamond stud in the other made the guy look like a rugged gypsy. Wavy, dark brown hair to his broad shoulders matched his five-o’clock shadow. Now that his color had returned—an olive complexion—Mima thought him handsome, even with the jagged scar across his right cheek.

He looked like a modern outlaw.

Too much time had passed since she’d felt attraction to a man, and of course, finding one near dead was the best she could do. “Is it me, or is he one of the finest-looking men you’ve ever seen?” She bit her lip and glanced over his form.

They’d removed his frozen clothes, leaving only his boxers on, and tucked him under the thickest blankets Mima owned.

“I guess so,” Mary said, angling her head to check him out more. “That missing baby toe is a downer though.”

The toe could have been lost to frostbite, even though he didn’t look like the mountain-climbing type. But the jagged scars all over him? There were so many, Mima stopped counting at twenty. Some were short, thin cuts, or small, circular scars. The others were thick and long as if somebody had whipped him, or slashed at him with a knife. She shuddered at how he must have suffered through all that.

She’d cleaned the blood on his face with a warm washcloth and stitched up the cuts where his head had smashed into the window. Thank goodness her brother had been accident-prone and Mother had taught her what to do. The pilot didn’t move an inch as the needle and thread pierced his skin. Either he was seriously out cold or his pain tolerance was impressive.

Anxiety flooded Mima’s stomach and she swallowed. The pilot had a body like a hero from an action movie, with thick, corded arms and wide shoulders. A broad chest peppered with dark hair tapered to a narrow waist, all the way down to a set of strong, sculpted legs. Tight boxer briefs stretched taut over the distinct bulge at his crotch. She blew out a shaky breath and blushed, dragging her gaze away from him.

“You thinking what I’m thinking?” Mary’s eyes glinted with amusement as she clucked her tongue.

“What?”

“That you’re fucking lucky to finally have a man in your bed.”

Mima laughed, shoving her best friend’s shoulder. “The guy’s half-dead. Give him a break.” Even as she said the words, she couldn’t help eyeing him up again.

“Well, I need to get home before it gets dark, or Tom might get worried. Think I should look in the guy’s plane and bring by his luggage or whatever personal things he might have in there? He didn’t have a wallet on him.”

Mima shrugged. “That’s up to you. He’s stuck here for now anyway until I decide what to do with him. So far, I think he’s only out from the bump on his head and the cold.”

“Poor guy, eh?” Mary gave the pilot a pat on the foot before giving Mima a big hug. “Okay, g’night, babe. Have fun. I’ll drop by as soon as I can.”

“Radio when you get home, okay?”

“Sure thing, boss.” Mary tapped the heels of her boots and saluted her. Mima laughed and gave Mary a friendly push toward the door. The woman was playing a comedienne at the worst time.

Soon her home was quiet, and she stood alone, staring down at the stranger in her bed. He wasn’t out of danger yet, and she had a feeling when he woke up there could be more trouble to come.

Gabe shifted and stretched. The pounding in his head sharpened to a knifing pain behind his eyes as consciousness returned. For a minute he thought somebody had smashed his skull with a hammer. Wouldn’t be the first time he awakened with a vague recollection of what happened the previous day. His body burned like the fires of hell and, fuck, was he ever thirsty. When he reached up to rub his forehead and felt a bandage, he paused. “What the hell—”

His eyes flew open as the memory of the flight came back to him. He blinked, rubbed his forehead again, and gazed about the room. Daylight flickered in from somewhere, temporarily blinding him. No cockpit. No mountains or snow. No cargo.
The cargo!
He shoved up on his elbows, wincing from the pain and inspected his surroundings.

Where the hell am I?

Gabe realized with a start that he wasn’t in a hospital or jail or some stinking torture pit, but a warm bedroom in a log cabin. He swung his legs over the mattress and took a few calming breaths to settle his pounding heart. At least he hadn’t been caught. He must be in a safe place if somebody had taken the time to tuck him into bed. He glanced down to his legs and frowned, realizing he wore nothing but boxers.

What the fuck is going on?

The frantic scrape of claws on plywood interrupted his train of thought. Before he could react, a huge black-and-white husky barreled into the room, barking wildly. Gabe cupped his ears from the piercing pain the barking brought on as the canine sat on his haunches right against his knees, emitting a long, musical whine.

“Nitchie, leave our patient alone!”

Gabe’s heartbeat accelerated again at the sound of a feminine voice. He rushed to throw the covers back over him as a native woman appeared in the doorway. She leaned casually against the doorframe, her black eyes taking him in. His mind emptied itself of words as he stared back at her.

Did
she
undress me?

“Hi.” Her broad smile held not a lick of shyness.

Gabe blinked, momentarily lost in her onyx eyes. “Hi,” he echoed awkwardly. “Uh… Is your husband around?”

“Husband?” Her abrupt cackle startled him. He’d never heard a laugh quite like that before, so uninhibited. “You won’t find a husband here, buddy.”

“Boyfriend, then?”

“Nope.”

Gabe looked around, feeling more than a little awkward. “
Any
man?”

A crooked smile touched her lips and she shook her head slowly, looking at him like he’d lost a bolt somewhere. Maybe he had. Exactly what happened from the time of the crash until now was completely lost to him. Unable to form a single smart word, he kept his mouth shut, embarrassed he may have offended the woman. He averted his gaze and looked around the room. Someone must have helped her get him in this bed because he wasn’t a small man and she barely touched the roof of a car. But he was too sore to dwell on it, and pointed to the bandage on his head. “Thanks.”

The woman pushed away from the door. “No problem. I’m afraid your clothes won’t be washed for a few days, but I managed to rustle up some of my brother’s. You look close in height and build.” Her gaze raked over him, as if imagining his body beneath the blankets. Gabe knew damn well that she
did
undress
him, and probably took her sweet time. “Come to the kitchen when you’re ready. I’ll fix you some coffee. Weather’s been too tricky for a chopper the last couple days, but thankfully you’re awake now.”

And she left him with his thoughts and the dog.
What did she mean by the last couple days?
Perplexed, Gabe reached out to pat the husky between the ears, but the dog’s once-curious demeanor changed in an instant, and he bared his teeth with a deep growl. Gabe pulled back with a start and pushed himself up. The last thing he wanted was a hand mangled by a protective mutt.

On the nearby dresser he found a pair of canvas pants and a knit sweater. He gritted his teeth, hating the feel of wool on his skin as the garment scraped over his torso. At least the pants fit well and were comfortable. Anything was better than traipsing through a strange woman’s house in nothing but his boxers.

With shaky legs and his equilibrium messed up, Gabe forced one foot in front of the other and entered the adjoining room. The dog she called Nitchie rushed past him, nearly knocking him over to reach his master. Gabe didn’t say a word, didn’t even look his way, not wanting to provoke the dog’s temper.

The kitchen and living room were one room, and by the looks of it, he’d just walked out of the only bedroom. Various animal pelts and patchwork quilts covered the log walls. He noted a few photographs of native people on a side table and assumed they must be the woman’s family. A wood-framed sofa covered with more pelts and blankets sat beneath the living room window. He had to admit the place looked cozy despite its lack of space.

The woman had her back to him as she tinkered around the kitchen, putting a coffee kettle on the top of a barrel stove, which separated the kitchen and living room.

Gabe couldn’t help staring at her, allowing his gaze to freely roam over her body. A long, thick braid, so black it almost looked blue in the light glinting through the windows, hung to her curvy hips. Donned in a red-and-black-checkered work shirt and blue jeans, she looked like she belonged in the bush.

Intriguing.

He took a seat at the kitchen table and wondered what he should do with himself. He needed to get back to his plane and radio Colton, but he didn’t want to make her suspicious. “How long was I out?”

His nurse glanced over her shoulder and smiled. “A couple days. You were lucky, though. I think you were in that plane overnight before we found you.”

Which means I’ve been here three days. Fuck.
“Who helped you?”

She laughed again, and the sound lightened his cloudy mood a little. Her laugh was a sweet cackle, for lack of a better description.

“My friend and a great team of dogs.”

He frowned at her back. “You mean like a dog-sled team?”

She turned around and faced him with a proud smile. “Look out back.”