Ravens Cove – Chapter 18

Ravens Cove, An Iconoclast Thriller (Book 1)
The Spiritual Battle for a Small Alaska Town
By Mary Ann Poll
America’s Lady of Supernatural Thrillers

Chapter 18

Ken caught up with Kat as she turned onto the street behind Grandma’s house.

“May I walk you?”

“Not you, too, FBI. I can take care of myself, you know.”

Kat picked up her pace, an outward expression of her need to get away from the confusion he stirred up every time she looked at him.

Ken quickened to come alongside her, which put him on a direct collision with a bike rider. The speed-demon steered his bike to avoid Kat but didn’t have time to do the same for Ken.

Ken, concentrating on matching his pace to Kat’s, was unaware of the impending accident.

“On your left,” the bicyclist shouted.

Ken glanced up, shot sideways, tripped over a small rock and landed on his backside.

The bike rider whizzed by and became a speck on the horizon in moments.

Kat laughed so hard, tears came to her eyes. Once she could get her breath, she offered a hand.

Ken took it, but instead of pulling himself up, he pulled her down. She landed square on his stomach.

“Oomph. Sorry! Did not work out quite like I planned!” But her reaction was exactly what he hoped for. Those flashing green eyes were back.

She made a fist and punched him square on the chest as she stood.

“Ouch.” He rubbed the spot to take some of the sting out of it. “You’re strong, for a girl.”

Kat gave a frustrated, “Huff,” and took off.

By the time he could breathe again, Kat was halfway down the street. Ken caught up with her.

She made it a point to ignore him for the twenty minutes it took to walk her home. The silence made it seem like an eternity passed before he got her to her destination.

Once they arrived, Ken insisted he check the house before she went inside.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake.” Kat patted her pockets to find her key. She wanted to placate this guy and get some time by herself.

While he waited, Ken stood on the deck, back turned to Kat’s door, taking in the awe-inspiring view. The muddy, grey inlet tossed whitecaps toward shore at an alarming rate. The breeze was gentle here, yet tinged with possible peril, evidenced by the gale force winds whipping the distant waves into a frenzy.

An active volcano, flanked by pointed, inhospitable mountains, sent puffs of steam upward. The knowledge of an imminent explosion underlined the threat of a serial killer on the loose in this off-the-map town.

Ken lived for danger and Ravens Cove contained dangers he had never known or thought about growing up in Iowa. He became an FBI agent because he loved the chase—and winning. Finding a serial killer was adrenaline-producing. He did not doubt he would win in a battle with a human being. But the possibility of earthquakes, volcanoes erupting, not to mention the moose and bear were numerous, and could trample or devour one, really spoke to Ken. This place felt more like home than anywhere he had been on earth.

As a bonus, Kat was the most electrifying woman he had ever met. His feelings were growing stronger for her and the raw beauty of this place. I knew about earthquakes and volcanoes when I arrived. But living in Anchorage, the idea of such disasters is distant at best. This place shouted danger.

A sharp pain brought him back to reality. Ken looked to the source of his pain. A black, short-haired cat, as green-eyed as its master, attacked his leg, claws out as if scaling a tree.

“What the ….!” Ken shook his leg in a rapid motion attempting to shake off the psychotic cat.

The homicidal feline screeched and dug in deeper seeming to enjoy the ride.

“Blast it!” I’m going to have to shoot this thing.

Kat tilted her head, confused at BC’s more-than-normal violent reaction. “Stop moving!” She bent down and unhooked each claw.

Ken counted sixteen tugs before he was finally free.

BC’s tail swished back and forth, He glared into Ken’s eyes, a low growl told Ken—if BC had anything to do with it—more attacks were coming.

“Told you I was fine.” She picked up BC and dropped him inside her cabin and slammed the door. “You’d better go now. BC honored you with one of his more delicate warnings.”

Ken pulled Kat close, kissed her hard on the mouth, released her and headed for the steps. He looked back over his right shoulder.

Kat stood wide-eyed, staring toward the water. He’s either courageous or a fool, she thought. No man ever risked her anger by kissing her without permission; and no man stayed on her porch or crossed her threshold, for that matter, since BC took up residence.

“You pull a stunt like that again, FBI, and I’ll . . .”

“You’ll what?”

“I don’t know! But you’ll be more than sorry.”

Ken grinned and said, “Noted. I’ll be here to get you at five fifteen.”

Kat inhaled deeply and let out a slow, shaky breath. “If you aren’t here by five-fifteen, I won’t be here at five-sixteen.” She turned, walked inside and slammed the door.

Mary Ann Poll, America’s Lady of Supernatural Thrillers, is the award-winning author of the Iconoclast series. Mary Ann draws from her real-life experiences, as well as her imagination, to create supernatural thrillers