Free Danger Mine: A Base Branch Novel by Megan Mitcham Page B

Do you want to hit the hotel or the guide’s first?”

    K hani meandered about the lobby , perusing pamphlets and the various long-dead animals stuffed and mounted for morbid viewing pleasure.
    “Can I help you, miss?”
    She turned to find the curvaceous mid-thirties woman she’d surveilled through the front glass step from the back office. “No thank you. I’m just waiting for my brother. You know how men are, always taking their sweet time.”
    “Ooh, where are you from? I adore your accent. It’s so proper.”
    “I’m on holiday from London.” Khani turned back to a multi-page brochure issued by the Wildlife Commission about bear safety for two reasons. One, she didn’t want to engage this woman in conversation. That was Street’s job. Two, half-ton carnivores with teeth and claws that ran up to 56 kilometers per hour made her palms sweat.
    “Oh, how nice. If you need any tour recommendations, just let me know.”
    “Thanks.”
    They devoted the entire first two pages explaining how to save the bear from becoming mortality statistics since they were such a vital part of the ecosystem. She flipped to the middle. Rule one, don’t feed the bears. No worries. Rule two, don’t leave food, trash, pets, or small children unattended. Did Street count as a child? Not a small one. So, they were okay there. Rule three, if you encounter a bear, stay calm, break eye contact, and stand your ground. If the bear attacks, lie still on your belly, protecting your head and neck with your arms. Act passive. Not bloody likely. If the bear continues to maul you, then fight back using any available weapons: knife, rock, fist.
    The door chimed and every nerve in Khani’s highly trained body jumped like she was no more than a twit.
    Fucking bears .
    Street waltzed through the door and the woman’s jaw hit the counter top. “Good evening.” He smiled.
    “H… Hi.” The registrar visibly shook herself. “You must be the brother. My name is Tildy.”
    “A pleasure, Tildy.” Street winked.
    “I was just telling your sister, if you need any tour recommendations on your stay, I’d be happy to help.” Tildy’s lips curved into a sweet smile.
    “I’d love to hear all about it after you tell me there’s a room left in the inn with my name on it.”
    “Two rooms. I don’t want to listen to you snore,” Khani interjected.
    “Two rooms then,” Tildy nodded. “Since it’s early in the season I have two side-by-side interior rooms, those are less expensive with no view, but have a cozy fireplace. I also have two side-by-side exterior rooms with a view of Resurrection Bay.”
    As the woman continued her spiel Khani roamed past the counter and Tildy’s field of vision. She dipped under the breakaway counter, and then slipped through the open office door.
    A massive desktop consumed most of the cluttered desk. Lights kaleidoscoped across the computer screen. Khani cleared the two steps in a whisper.
    One bump of the mouse revealed a sea of open windows. She clicked through the options. Tildy had a legion of potential suitors distributed across six dating sites on the first heap of tabs. The last revealed the hotel’s database. One click brought her to reservations. She chose the check-in, check-out log, and then scrolled to the last week.
    Zeke Slaughter. Room 14, reserved May 10 and May 18. Second room canceled. Check-in, May 10. Check-out, May 11. No show, no cancelation for May 18.
    Khani stood over the keyboard, stunned. When Zeke didn’t call she’d known something was wrong. Having her suspicions confirmed iced her veins. Zeke had been her purpose for so long. She didn’t need him near to function, but she needed him in the world. Without him the earth didn’t rotate. Without him everything faded to black. Without him she wouldn’t survive.
    Street cleared his throat. The harsh noise jarred her out of the tailspin. With a few clicks she ordered the woman’s screen and rushed to the door. She slowed at the