Total pages in book: 61
Estimated words: 58342 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 292(@200wpm)___ 233(@250wpm)___ 194(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58342 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 292(@200wpm)___ 233(@250wpm)___ 194(@300wpm)
“A phone?” I take a few steps forward. “You guys have a phone? I’ll pay you ten thousand bucks to make a phone call.”
He moves the can of bear spray up and down. “Stay back! Let me guess, your plane was loaded up with drugs. If you’ve been making meth here, I swear to fuck I’ll put my snow boot all the way up your ass. I’m not relocating to this tundra for a month to oversee the chemical cleanout. I almost turned feral when I had to oversee the solar panel install.”
This guy looks—and sounds—more like Seth Rogen than Seth Rogen does. But I have more important things to discuss with him.
“Look, I’m Lincoln Rowe. I’m a pro hockey player for the Minnesota Mammoths. Google it and you’ll find pictures of me without this caveman beard. We were in a plane crash in January. I have the money to pay for everything we used.”
He lowers the bear spray slightly. “I don’t think the sat phones can do that. I did hear about a hockey player in a plane crash, but I thought he died.”
Trinity steps out from behind me, her hands out in front of her. “We would have died if we hadn’t found this place. It saved our lives.”
I bare my teeth to the guy, moving my lips so he can get a good look at them. “Look, dude. No meth. I’ve broken a few teeth playing hockey and gotten them fixed, but that’s it.”
He considers for a couple of seconds and then puts the can of bear spray back in a leg pocket of his pants. “Fucking nuts.” He glances up at us. “Our boss will be here soon; he can give you a ride back to his plane.”
Trinity laughs a single note. “I’m not getting on a plane. If we could just use a phone, that’s all we need.”
“Your boss has a plane?” I ask.
“What? Oh. Yeah. Cheri and I are two of his assistants. We always bring supplies in by snowmobile when he wants to spend time here.”
Trin and I exchange a sheepish look.
“We’ve eaten most of the food,” I say, stepping forward and extending my hand to him. “What was your name?”
“Logan.” He pinches his brows together as he shakes my hand. “Sorry, the wheels are turning and I’m just thinking of stuff here...we’re probably gonna need to call in legal and have you sign some paperwork.”
“Uh...for what?”
He blows out a breath just as a petite woman walks into the cabin and smiles at us.
“Hi, I’m Cheri Marone, first assistant to Skyler Cross. Did I hear you say you’re that hockey player from the plane crash in Alaska?”
Logan gives her an aggravated, wide-eyed look. “We said we were doing away with the whole first-assistant, second-assistant thing. We’re both equal assistants.”
“Skyler Cross?” My jaw drops. “You mean...?”
Cheri nods. “Yes, the tech billionaire. This is his cabin.”
Logan throws his arms up and turns around. “I was going to have them sign NDAs before we told them that. You never ask for my input.”
Trinity steps forward to introduce herself to Cheri. As they shake hands, she says, “You have nothing to worry about from us, I promise. This cabin saved our lives and we’re completely indebted to Mr. Cross.”
I put a palm on Trinity’s back, the reality that we’re being rescued starting to sink in. “I’ll cover the costs of everything.”
Cheri waves her hand dismissively. “That’s not a concern. It’s just that Mr. Cross comes here when he wants to be completely alone. Away from his crazy busy schedule. And if people knew about it--”
“It’s a security risk,” Logan finishes, his forehead wrinkled with tension. “He’s gonna want a whole new cabin built, isn’t he?” He pinches the bridge of his nose. “I’ll get assigned to Alaska again for months.”
“Hey, asshole,” Cheri snaps. “These two need medical attention. They need to call their families. None of this is about you.”
He puts up his palms in surrender. “Right. You’re right.”
Trinity turns to me, tears brimming in her eyes. “We’re going home!”
I hug her, relieved by our luck. Now we don’t have to face the uncertainties of hiking out of here with supplies.
“You’re the hockey player?”
I release Trinity and look at the cabin’s doorway, where a very tall, lean man whose face I know well is standing. Skyler Cross is one of the wealthiest, most recognizable men in the world.
“That’s me,” I say.
He grins and unzips his thick parka. “What a world. Seattle’s my team, but I couldn’t be happier you two found refuge here.”
Trinity rushes over to hug him. “Your cabin saved our lives, Mr. Cross. I don’t even know how to thank you.”
He gives her a fatherly look. “I’m just glad you found it. I think you’re quite far from where they were searching for the plane.” Feeling around in his coat pockets, he pulls out a satellite phone with a thick antenna. “Call your family, and then we’ll get you both to my plane.”