Modern-day Viking—that was my first impression of the man who had employed my brother for the past three years. Aleksander Thorin embodied the stereotype: icy blond coloring, an imposing physique, a subtle air of menace and threat. All he needed was a couple of braids woven through his long hair and a bearskin cloak instead of his blue flannel button-up. His dark eyes evaluated and dismissed me in one blink. Not much of a welcoming party, is he?
“My Jeep is in the shop,” Val said. “Thorin offered to give us a lift.”
I nodded by way of greeting. “I didn’t mean to impose, Mr. Thorin.”
“It’s no trouble, Miss Mundy,” he said in a deep and rumbling voice. “Although I’m not convinced your coming here was the best idea. In fact, I’m pretty sure it’s only going to stir up trouble.”
His unsolicited opinion raised my hackles. What did this man, this stranger, presume to know about me or my situation? “I came here to close out Mani’s affairs. See to his personal things. My parents and I have put this off long enough.”
“Thorin,” Val said, stepping between us. “Don’t give her a hard time. She’s not one of your tour guides.”
“Of course.” Thorin relaxed his severe posture, unfolded his arms, and shoved his hands into his pockets. “I apologize, Miss Mundy. Let me make it up to you. Dinner and drinks—my treat.”
Before I could misunderstand Thorin’s intentions, Val explained. “Boss Man’s hosting a get-together tonight. He does it every once in a while. Employee appreciation, you know?”
Part of me wanted to refuse because I suspected Aleksander Thorin rarely heard the word “no” and I liked the idea of ruffling his cool demeanor. But doing so might have denied me the chance to meet my brother’s friends and co-workers, and that was one of my many reasons for making this trip. I curved my lips into what I hoped was an agreeable smile. “Sure. Sounds great.”
My brother had lived in the harborside village of Siqiniq, a good two hours’ drive from Anchorage along a highway that wound among evergreen forests, snowcapped mountains, and the gray-green waters of Turnagain Arm, Kenai Lake, and Resurrection Bay. Aleksander Thorin drove with single-minded focus and only spoke if directly addressed, but Val talked about inane things along the way and pointed out local attractions: a forlorn and solitary roadside moose, the Alaska Railroad (but no train), and Beluga Point (sadly lacking signs of habitation).
Once we reached Mani’s apartment complex, Thorin eased his Range Rover into a space beside my brother’s old 4-Runner. He shifted into neutral but stayed behind the wheel, letting his SUV idle while Val helped me unload and tote my bags up to my brother’s apartment.
Someone had shoved Mani’s things into haphazard piles when they painted and installed new carpet in his living room. The reek of fresh latex and acrylic burned my nose and obliterated any scent of my brother that might have lingered.
“You okay here by yourself?” Val asked. “You’re probably going to run into a few ghosts.”
I inhaled a shallow breath. “I’ll be okay. It’ll be nice to be in Mani’s place with his stuff. It’ll feel like he’s around somewhere, waiting to come home.”
Val arched an eyebrow. “And you honestly think you can clean out his apartment, box up his stuff, and move on?”
“It’ll be cathartic.”
He frowned. “Or masochistic.”
Val pulled out his wallet and rifled through the contents until he found a business card for Thorin Adventure Outfitters. He handed it to me. “I’m going to the store with Thorin. That card has the number on it. Call me there around seven, and I’ll come pick you up for the party. My Jeep should be out of the shop by then.”
The card displayed Val’s name in tiny print beneath the larger, bolder letters that spelled out M. Aleksander Thorin, CEO. “Chief Ego Officer,” I muttered.
“What?”
I waved in a never-mind gesture. “I’ll see you later.”
“Tonight,” Val said as he stepped past me into the breezeway.
I pressed the door closed behind him and went into Mani’s bedroom. In his closet I found his dirty clothes stuffed into a bulging hamper. After gathering a bundle of denim and cotton in my arms, I buried my face in the fabric. The organic odors of Mani’s skin filled my nose. Still breathing him in, I sank cross-legged to the floor and let the shade of my brother envelop me in its memories.
Chapter Two
Val opened the passenger door of his rust-encrusted CJ-7 and motioned for me to climb in. “It’s not much of a carriage, but we aren’t exactly going to a ball.”
“So, where are we going?” I asked.
“Just a place where the locals like to hang. It’s more of a dive than anything, but they have cold beer and good food. Best of all, Thorin’s paying for it.”
“I hope I didn’t overdress.”
Val chuckled as he appraised my scruffy knee boots and fleece jacket. He fingered the tail of the blond braid straggling over my shoulder and said, “You’ll fit in fine.”
The bar was so close we could have walked and saved the gas, but Val insisted on playing chivalrous knight. He parked in front of a building constructed from a hodgepodge of tin sheeting and cinderblocks. A hand-painted sign tacked to the wall by the front entrance welcomed us to “The Pits.” Val helped me from the Jeep and eased a hand to the small of my back. He held the door open and ushered me into the dark, crowded quarters, where the tang of old beer, fried food, and warm bodies slinked up close and curled itself around me.
With his hand still hovering near my tailbone, Val stopped us and shouted into the crowd of rowdy patrons. “Hey, everybody! Listen up!” The room fell silent. All eyes turned to us, and I blushed under the scrutiny. “This is Solina Mundy, Mani’s sister. She’s going to be in town for a while, so show her a good time, all right?”
Someone hollered from across the room, “Bring her over here and I’ll show her a good time right now.” The crowd hooted and whistled.
Val waved for quiet. “She’s a Southern belle, so she’s used to good manners.” He pointed toward the back of the crowd. “Hugh, that means you don’t stand a chance.” Everyone laughed again and returned to their drinks and conversations. Thank God. I hated being the center of attention.
A dark, curly-haired woman, tattooed and pierced, parted from the crowd. She slapped my shoulder and said, “Welcome to Alaska.” She offered her hand, so I shook it. “Skyla Ramirez. I was friends with Mani. He was a good guy. The best.”
“You worked with him?” I asked.
“Most of us did.” Skyla motioned around the room. “Almost all of us are Thorin’s employees or loyal customers.”
“You do adventure tours?”
Skyla nodded. “Kayaking is my specialty.”
“I’ve always wanted to try that.”
