Page 8 of Deadly Sins

Please, Lord, help me watch over Kate. And please, keep this coffee warm.

5

The hangar was quiet,save for the occasional clank of tools and the howling of the wind outside. Despite the sub-zero temps, Burl’s hefty wood stove pumped out enough heat to make the vast hangar seem more like a sweat lodge than a freezer. Kate wiped the sweat from her brow and sighed, stretching her legs out in front of her. She’d been working on the strut nonstop since the team left, and her fingers were numb from the constant manipulation of metal. Time seemed almost non-existent without changing sun angles to mark it.

Fenn appeared at her side, another steaming mug of coffee in his hand. “You need to take a break,” he said, his voice laced with concern. “Drink something. Recharge.”

Annoyance flared at his words. She didn’t need him hovering, didn’t need his constant reminders to take care of herself. She was a grown woman, perfectly capable of managing her own needs.

She waved him off, her attention focused on the stubborn bolt she was trying to loosen. “I’m fine. Just need to get this part off so Burl can put in an order.” Looking up part numbers in a catalogue was one thing, but manufacturers were famous for changing out parts mid-model year. With the difficulties ofgetting a replacement to the tiny settlement, she didn’t want to take any chances on getting the wrong part.

Besides, the work was part of her penance.

Fenn sighed, setting the mug down on the workbench. “You’ve been at this for hours. You’re going to burn yourself out.”

She gritted her teeth, her frustration mounting. “I said I’m fine. I’ve got the bottom section loose. I’m almost done. Just leave me alone for a minute, okay?”

He held up his hands in surrender. “Alright, alright. But I’m giving you another half an hour. After that, I’m dragging you out of here and we’re going to dinner. Whether you like it or not.”

Wrench in hand, she watched him wander off into McCoy’s tiny excuse for an office, his broad shoulders disappearing through the doorway. She let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding, the tension in her body easing slightly.

Finally, some peace.

But even as the thought crossed her mind, a pang of guilt followed close behind. Fenn was only trying to help, only trying to be supportive. And here she was, snapping at him like a junkyard dog.

She shook her head, turning her attention back to the strut. She hadn’t asked him to stay, hadn’t wanted him to get involved in this mess. But he had insisted, and now she was stuck with him.

With a final twist of her wrench, the strut came loose. She let out a triumphant whoop, the sound echoing in the empty hangar. She grabbed the satellite phone, punching in the number for McCoy’s supplier.

The voice on the other end was crackling, the connection tenuous at best. But the message was clear. Weather permitting, they’d have a replacement strut delivered in eight to ten days.

She relayed the information to Fenn as he emerged from the office, his eyebrows raising in surprise. “Eight to ten days? Well, I guess we’d better get comfortable.”

She couldn’t help but laugh at the look on his face, the absurdity of their situation finally hitting her. “Yeah, I guess so. Unless you want to take up walrus hunting in the meantime.”

Fenn grinned, shaking his head. “Nah, I think I’ll pass on that particular Arctic adventure. Besides, we’ve got more important things to focus on.”

She sobered at his words, the reality of their situation crashing back down on her. He was right. With the strut taken care of, they could turn their attention to finding whoever had left that threatening note.

And Fenn would get ever closer to her ugly secret.

They bundled up, stepping out into the constant night. The cold was a shock after the warmth of the hangar, the wind biting at their exposed skin.

A particularly vicious gust hit, driving a sprinkling of sharp snowflakes against her goggles. The storm was on its way. They hurried down the deserted street, the glow of the Frostbite Tavern a beacon in the darkness.

The tavern was housed in another pre-fab building, its exterior as uninviting as the rest of the settlement. But as they stepped inside, the now-familiar warmth greeted them. The complete opposite of the plain, severe exterior, the interior was cozy, with rough-hewn wooden tables and a roaring fire in the hearth.

It would have been almost pleasant, if not for the knowledge that one of the patrons could be the person behind the note.

Deciding on a table in the crowded space only added to her frustration. Fenn wanted a spot near the back, with a clear view of the entrance. She argued for a table closer to the bar, where they could overhear conversations more easily.

“I’m telling you, the back is better,” Fenn insisted, his jaw set stubbornly. “We can see everyone who comes and goes.”

She rolled her eyes, her hands on her hips. “And I’m telling you, the bar is where all the action is. If we want to gather intel, that’s where we need to be.”

They went back and forth, their arguments becoming more and more ridiculous. Finally, Kate threw up her hands in exasperation. “Fine. You pick. But if we end up learning nothing, I’m blaming you.”

Fenn grinned, leading her to a table near the back. “I’m good with that.”

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