1
April 6
Thor Ravn Isaksen put the ax back in his tool shed and locked it up, enough firewood stacked near the porch to get him through the next several days. It might be April, but in Colorado’s high country, spring had yet to arrive.
He picked up an armful of firewood and carried it inside, where the fire had almost gone out. He had gas heat, of course, but he preferred the warmth of the woodstove. When the fire was burning hot again, he grabbed a beer from the fridge, stepped outside onto his deck, and sat on the bench he’d built from scrap lumber.
He drew in a breath, the air clean and fresh, no sound but the wind in the pines.
He’d bought this property just before the holidays, moving from a condo in Northglenn to this three-bedroom house in the mountains. His property abutted National Forest land, which made it seem far bigger than a mere fifteen acres. It also came with an endless view of the snow-capped peaks to the west. His nearest neighbors were black bears, cougars, elk, bobcats, and mule deer.
It was Thor’s idea of paradise.
It wasn’t that he didn’t like people. He just preferred solitude.
He’d grown up an only child in the Danish countryside, surrounded by a dense birch forest, and had learned to be content in his own company at an early age. That skill had come in handy during his two years with Sirius Dogsled Patrol, the Danish special forces unit that guarded the unpopulated expanse of Northeastern Greenland. Some of the guys had struggled with the isolation and the cold, the darkness and the vastness of the landscape creeping inside them.
But for Thor, that had been salvation.
The hard part had been returning home. After Greenland, the world had seemed too loud, too rushed, too … meaningless.
The only thing missing from his life was a partner. He had no interest in getting married. All the fuss and paperwork seemed like bullshit to him. Still, it would be nice to share his life—and his bed—with someone special. But he had yet to meet a woman who loved him enough to tolerate his profession.
As an operative with Cobra International Security, a private security company, he spent as much time out of the country as he did at home, leaving at a moment’s notice. Women thought his job was sexy until the reality of broken dates, missed birthdays, and long absences sank in. Or maybe that wasn’t it at all.
The last woman Thor had dated ended things one night after he’d failed to say anything about her expensive new shoes. He hadn’t even noticed them. Amy had broken down on the phone, accusing him of being cold and uncaring. He hadn’t known what to say. How could anyone care that much about something as frivolous as shoes?
Thor’s time in Greenland had stripped him down, bared his strengths and weaknesses, testing him in ways he couldn’t have imagined. It had helped him make peace with what he’d done in Afghanistan. It had showed him who he really was. He had no interest in small talk, and he didn’t give a damn about shoes or possessions or fast cars or any of that stuff. They wereoverfladisk.
He searched for the English word.
Superficious? Superfictal? Superfiscal?
He wasn’t sure.
Plus esse, quam simultatur.
Hellere at være, end at synes.
It was the motto of theJægerkorpset—the elite Huntsman Corps—but it might as well be Thor’s credo.
Rather to be than to seem.
Either he would meet a woman who meshed with his lifestyle, or he wouldn’t. He’d already lived most of his adult life in the all-male world of spec-ops, serving first in theJægerkorpsetin Afghanistan before making the cut for Sirius. He had a lot of practice channeling his sexual energy into his work—and jacking off when he needed release. It wasn’t as pleasurable as a night with a woman, but it was less complicated.
No emotional messiness. No one to disappoint.
He took another drink of his beer, let his mind go blank, and watched the sun dip below the horizon, its last rays turning the sky pink.
Buzz-buzz. Buzz-buzz.
His cell phone vibrated.
He drew it out of his pocket.
It was Derek Tower, his boss and one of the two owners of Cobra.
“Isaksen here.”