Chapter 9

Nine

D odging Damon would be hard, but she would slip out the back door and let the darkness swallow her. Drake said fifteen minutes and to meet him at the tiny airstrip a mile outside of town. She worried about the snowstorm but he reassured her it wasn't anything to ground them.

Yet.

In another hour or so she would be screwed and snowbound for another day, maybe longer. Much longer.

Checking to see that no one was in the hallway—no one being Damon—she slipped from her door, leaving behind the key above the frame where he'd pulled it down her first night.

"I had a pussycat named Ivy. She was as black as your hair and just as skittish."

She turned on her heel and stilled. Yellow eyes cut through the dark hallway, and she suddenly felt like a trapped animal. "I'm not an animal and I'm not skittish. I just don't like being cornered."

"Same thing."

"Is not. What are you doing here?"

"I live here, remember?"

She took a step back as Damon advanced down the hall closer toward her. If he touched her, she didn't know if she would be strong enough to leave. He called her his soul mate before leaving earlier and she'd spent the whole damn time packing thinking on those two words.

He was right.

But too damn bad.

She refused to open her heart for yet another person to trample on her love.

"Then why are you running back to an empty apartment thousands of miles away from anyone who cares about you? And on Christmas Eve of all nights?"

"Who do you think you are to lecture me on what is right and what is wrong? Just because I fucked you doesn't mean anything, Damon."

The harsh words tore from her lips and dragged a piece of her heart with them. She hated being like that with him, but he pushed her to the ledge and she either pushed back or fell into his arms.

She never fell. Not since she turned eighteen and finally had control over her life. No one would ever take that away from her again.

"Your virginity meant everything to me. I know what it is like to lose control over yourself, Ivy."

She gasped. "It's like you're in my head."

He took another step. "I understand the hurt you've gone through. Or at least a fraction of it. The betrayal of others. I'm not those people just as you are not the person who hurt me years ago. We both have a chance here. A gift. When you took me into your body and you clamped over my cock you took something from me just as much as I took your virginity."

His words brought a rush of desire to spill over her senses and her emotions pinged like radar seeking the source of what affected her. "I'll lose myself to you, Damon and I can't have that."

"Angel, you have it all wrong," he ate up the small distance between them and she pushed at his chest, but he didn't back down. "There's nothing to run from here. Nothing to be afraid of. I would rather die than see you hurt."

She pulled back and slipped from his touch. "Maybe for you, Damon, but for me… it took me years to find myself, and I'm still fighting to find who I truly am. Which ironically is now not even a doctor. Excuse me now. I have a flight to catch."

"About that."

She tightened her grip on her overnight bag.

"What did you do?"

"Me? Do I look like a man that would stand between a woman, anyone for that matter, and their happiness?"

"How the hell should I know," she rasped harshly.

He studied her from beneath hooded eyes, and she returned the stare. "I thought you knew me better than that, by now at least. That I'm not some asshole dickhead."

"We've known each other for two and a half heartbeats and a few orgasms, Damon. What's to learn?"

"More than you could possibly know." He took her bags from her and tossed them to the side. "I know you love sweets almost as much as my brother. I know you love the snow from the way your eyes light up every time you see a damn snowflake. As if it's some magic fairy dust falling from the sky. I love that about you, by the way. The way you find such beauty in things I take for granted each day. I know your sense of humor outwits most of the hardheads around here and you have an ugly sweater to tease your sister with for every day of December."

He prowled closer, stealing back the small few feet she'd managed to put between them.

"And," he continued, "I know that beautiful brain of yours likes facts, so let me give you some."

She opened her mouth to speak, but he silenced her with a single finger in the air. She crossed her arms over her chest and waited. This ought to be good.

"Fact one," he ticked it off on a finger. "I've known you for two days, but your sister talks about you so damn much I feel like I've known you a year. Fact number two, I knew you were mine from the first time I touched you. Fact number three, you take other people's problems as your own and fact number four, and listen to this one very carefully, Ivy Kennedy, because if I have to repeat it I will do so but only as I peel every stitch of clothing from your body and kiss every inch of your skin until you understand me word for fucking word. You. Deserve. To. Be. Loved." He drove each word home and her mouth grew drier the more fingers he held up.

"Sorry, I gotta go." She could barely work the words from her dry lips, and the fear that dimmed the glow from his eyes killed her inside but he didn't understand. If she stayed, how would she ever find herself? Maybe at another time in life she could have what he wanted, but right now she couldn't be whole for him?

She leaned in, slowly, and pressed an angel soft kiss to his lips. Then she slipped around him and hit the back stairs.

Darkness greeted her in the few seconds before the backlight flashed on to reveal three sets of icy blue pale eyes filled with murderous rage. And pain.

She skidded to a full stop as a man closest to her, blood dripping from long gashes down his sides, roared from what she suspected was fury and surprise.

What the fuck? Bear attack? Instinct brought her hands up. Way up. "Whoa, guys, you remember me, right."

She cringed slightly but didn't take her eyes off the bigger man that dominated over the others by at least two shoulders. He took up damn near the entire back alley and was losing a lot of blood.

Fact: cold and blood loss didn't go well together. He would be dead within minutes if he didn't find help.

"Reaper," she asked tentatively. Shivers climbed up the back of her legs and she could no longer tell if it was from the cold or fear. Nothing scary about a pack of mountain men who looked like they could rip off heads. Anger collided with the harsh reality of the blizzard hitting Savage Ridge.

"What happened? Were you attacked?" Everything from the conversation with the Savage twins earlier came to mind.

Pale eyes gazed at her and she knew he was in pain. She moved to help him when he slipped, weakened by blood loss no doubt, when heavy footsteps and a vise-like grip around her midriff brought her to a sudden stop.

Wool slipped over her shoulders and in seconds Damon had her bundled in the heavy coat she'd forgotten in her haste to escape him. "Ivy, angel, get inside. God, woman, you don't just approach a man when he's crazed with rage and leaking like a faucet." Damon snarled over the gusts of wind that tunneled through the back alley. Off in the distance the faint sound of propellers belonging to Drake's plane faded.

Damn it. Now how did she get out of here?

Out of the corner of her eye, a piece of silvery black flashed in the bright spotlight that hung over the back door as Damon slipped his phone into his pocket.

The tricky bastard. She narrowed her eyes on him as he scooped an arm out and pushed her behind him. He'd called Drake behind her back. She mentally took a note to talk to him about boundaries, but for now it looked like they had a different problem to handle. She didn't have to be a backwoods mountain woman to know that whatever this was would not be good and wasn't a common occurrence. Not even in Alaska.

"What the hell happened, Reaper?" Damon demanded.

Ragged slashes tore at the skin of his chest from a wicked blade at first guess.

Reaper and his men wore blood-splattered jeans and boots. The fight left their shirts and coats in tatters hanging around their arms and torsos like torn paper.

"We've been attacked. I think we have a common enemy now."

Damon stepped forward and she followed him, taking Reaper by the opposite arm.

"Traffickers?" It didn't come out as a question but more of a fierce statement filled with disgust.

Reaper nodded and pulled out of their arms.

"Do you know a name? The person who did this to you?" she asked, eyeing his sides. Her fingers trembled as she eased apart the jagged edges of a wound that looked singed with something. Acid?

Ivy's glasses slipped and she righted them with a trembling hand as she took a closer look at the other men. All looked like they went up against an army and narrowly escaped.

Unrelenting snow battered all of them.

"Some Christmas," she muttered. "Such violence. Who would miss a small community tucked away north of the Arctic Circle?" She repeated Damon's words back to him, and the chill of their meaning seeped into her mind.

"I remember your sister said you were a doctor." The full force of Reaper's gaze fell on her. "We need your help." His words came out stronger than a demand. As if when he spoke it became law.

"No. I'm no doctor." Her eyes darted between him and the other two men who flanked him on either side.

Reaper turned as if to walk back out into the snowstorm that gathered force every second they spent talking. Cold claws of trepidation snuck beneath her heavy coat and sent a spiral of goosebumps down her spine. Fear thicker than the air clogged her throat. What kind of human being was she to turn them away injured, bleeding and no hospital for hours?

She advanced and grabbed Reaper's arms right below the elbow.

He turned to look at her over his shoulder. "There are more, Ivy. My family needs me. And you." His tone came out colder than the snow that gathered at their feet on top of the several feet already fallen. "I gathered a couple of my brothers to come here to get help and you turn us away from fear? What do you have to fear? They are already either dying or dead."

How many brothers did he have?

His accusation struck hard. "What do you mean? How do you know anything about me?"

"It's in your eyes." He paused. "I need a doctor for my people. The nasty fucking bastards died for what they did, but not without a cost to me and my family."

At least they weren't walking into an ambush. Small miracle there.

Something in Reaper's tight expression, the way his eyes searched hers struck a note of desperation she didn't expect.

"I've lost two brothers tonight."

"I am so sorry, Reaper." How could people do this to one another? Wasn't it a time of peace?

She studied him for less than half a second when Damon stepped up beside her. While she talked with Reaper, she felt him as a solid support there to cut down anyone that dared show an ounce of menace toward her. At least it was what she felt. She couldn't quite describe it but the thoughts settled in her mind as if they were her own. She shifted just enough to where she could look at him and Reaper.

"Don't be sorry. Help us."

She pushed her glasses up and raised her chin. "I can't. I don't have any supplies and I don't have a license to practice in Alaska. I still need to take my final exam."

"Fuck your red tape. Can you save their lives or not?"

"Yes."

"Then I don't fucking care what a piece of paper says about you. If your man agrees, let's go. They don't have much time; I left several very wounded."

"He's not my man and I can speak for myself."

"Really?" He turned his gaze on Damon "Maybe your debt should become hers? Would that get me the help I need?"

Something passed between them.

"Ivy," Damon pulled her to the side. "Please. Do this for me. Reaper is right about one thing. I owe his family a favor from a long time ago. His brother saved my life once when the traffickers would have liked to use me for hunting sport. Will you help?"

Ivy absorbed the fraction of history between the two she'd wondered about from her first night. She straightened her shoulders and stared out over the hurt.

"Damon, I don't want to be the one that can't save a mother, a son, a daughter from the horrors of reality. I can't."

Darkness clung to them and she caught a glimpse of the disappointment he tried to hide as he turned to Reaper. "It's okay, angel. I understand."

From in front of her one of the men collapsed. Shit.

Her heart raced.

"Wait," she threw her hand out and caught Damon's arm as she spoke to Reaper. "I need ten minutes to gather supplies and then Damon can take me to your place."

"Fair enough. I trust you, friend."

Ivy almost snorted. Reaper offered his hand and she clasped it.

"Hurry. Please," Reaper pleaded and it didn't sound like the word passed his lips often. She gave a faint smile in return and turned on her heel, already shoving the bar door open and calling out for Damon to help.

"I need bags. Anything that can carry alcohol, clean towels, fishing line and anything I can make a hook out of." Damon fished out a bag from under the bar and started filling it with everything she ticked off.

"Reaper, what kind of medicines or herbs, maybe healing ointments do you have?" This far off the grid everyone had something in their house given the nearest hospital was hours away. A local doctor's office only had so much.

"Anything you may need will be there. I made sure of it before winter set in."

Man of few words. No wonder he and Damon got along. "Good."

Between her and Damon they cut the time she needed down to five and the last item to go in the bag were several bottles of whiskey in case they ran out of alcohol for disinfectant. She took a quick restock of what she had and sighed heavily. They'd have to make due.

The bell over the front door rang out and all three turned to see Drake join the fun with Esmeralda hot on his heels along with Remy and Ethan.

"I'll see you there." Reaper excused himself and within seconds slipped out the back door as the Savage family moved in from the front.

"Smelled trouble in the air. What the hell is going on?"

"The traffickers. My past came back and bit Reaper and his family big time. We're going to help," Damon stated flatly.

She moved to the bar and clutched the bag Damon prepared and tossed it beside hers at the back door.

"Call dad. Tell him to check in on the other families on the outskirts of the Ridge. Reaper's family might not be the only ones they attacked."

Damon clasped Drake's hand. "We're headed out that way now to see if we can help."

"Read you loud and clear."

Ivy pulled on as much gear as she could while Damon piled on another scarf around her neck and slipped on a thicker pair of gloves over the ones she already had on. He went back for another hat when she threw up her hands. "Anything else and I won't be able to move. Is all this necessary?"

"It is if you're human."

He pulled on blizzard gear next.

Sixty seconds later the lights of Savage Ridge faded to tiny dots as they sped away. Swirls of snow slapped against the windshield as darkness swallowed them whole.

"We can get halfway there before we have to take the snowmobiles. Suddenly she became very grateful for all the layers of winter clothes he bundled her in.

She sighed. Some damn Christmas. She started out her trip here running away from responsibilities when all she did was find more.

Several hours later Ivy was bone tired. So much blood.

Reaper had been wrong about the brother he thought died. Miracle number one thousand of the night. All six of Reaper's siblings had survived, including his old man. In all the hustle, adrenaline and fear, Reaper had missed finding a pulse much to his relief.

Damon had called the sheriff while she and Reaper worked to save his other brothers.

Still, her heart ached for the violence. No one deserved to have their home, their family, their town in danger. It being Christmas drove that feeling home all the more.

Propped up on the doorway, she sipped at a cup of warm cider Reaper offered her and Damon now that the commotion died down. Reaper slipped out to check the perimeter, leaving her and Damon alone to see over the injured in Reaper's massive log home.

When they pulled up hours ago bodies dotted the property, and from a distance they resembled toy soldiers forgotten by an absent-minded child. As they had gotten closer to the aftermath of the battle realization painted a far uglier picture.

Fact: Death happened. It wasn't her fault.

An involuntary tremble racked her body. So callous and cold. According to Damon he recognized several of the faces belonging to the traffickers out in the snow. When the law arrived it would be fairly easy to piece together what went down.

She pressed a hand to her forehead. Houston seemed like a lifetime ago from where she stood over the makeshift beds spread out over the plush carpet of the living room. She'd insisted on keeping everyone together.

The blood had been cleaned up hours ago and it almost seemed unreal such a thing could happen on Christmas Eve.

"You saved them." Damon pressed a soft kiss to the top of her head then pulled her in to wrap his arms around her. Gathered in the large family room three times the size of her tiny two-bedroom apartment the soft glow of the fire blanketed the entire home in warmth. A real home. She half imagined a cave in the side of an icy wall on the drive over. Half frozen when they arrived, Reaper ushered them in and she immediately set to work washing, bandaging and stitching all the while amazed by the kindness from the people she heard were no better than wild mountain men.

"This isn't the first time they've murdered to get what they want, but hopefully it will be the last."

Her eyeballs grew wide and a thousand questions wanted to come out all at once, but now didn't seem like the time to pepper Damon with questions about his past. "What happens now?"

"I'll contact my old Sergeant. Fill him in on what's been going on. They'll put in another undercover cop and take the new group out like they did when I was the undercover cop. Or, they'll pull in the bigger guns depending on how big this organization has gotten." Damon answered, his eyes flashing with a lethal edge.

Reaper strolled back in covered with snow and like he wasn't wounded. Men never changed.

"Thank you," Reaper offered, shaking her hand. He lifted it to his lips and pressed a kiss to the back of her knuckles. "If you find yourself in need of help, you know where to find me."

She smiled.

"It's time for us to leave too."

"Before you leave there's something you must know about yourself, Ivy." Reaper cupped her smaller hand in his larger one. "You have a healer's heart in you. I noticed it the first time I met you and tonight you have proven it. If not with my family, with the simple change I see in our mutual friend. Thank you." He looked at Damon. "Not much can change a man's heart but you've found a way."

She didn't know what to make of that. What he said struck a nerve and rang true but when faced with patients fear gripped her heart and wouldn't let go. Here, tonight, she acted and looking back realized she did what these people needed of her without a drop of fear or hesitation.

She connected gazes with Damon, who had never left her side since walking through Reaper's front door hours ago. He'd even helped her set up a Christmas tree to help bring a little peace for Reaper's family as they healed.

She looked around. If not for her help tonight many more lives would have been lost. She knew that as fact and facts never let her down.

Fact: Her instincts screamed for her to run far and fast. She almost agreed. Almost.

Tonight she'd learned something no Texan knew.

Fact: no one can run when snowbound.