Staking A Claim

By Devon McKay

     For most people, seeing Alaska is a dream come true. For Miami Beach resident, Samantha Held, it is merely a job assignment. An advertisement for vacationing in Alaska is one step closer to achieving her career goal—partnership in Kolinsky's Advertising Agency. As far as accepting the offer of assistance from Blake Langford, a hunky Fish and Game officer and local rancher? Though it is offered in a sour manner, she wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth. 
     Determined to sabotage Sam's goal in every way, Blake isn't willing to accept any exploitation of his beloved state, no matter how desirable the striking, southern blonde bombshell with fiery green eyes. Falling in love with the enemy was never part of the plan.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Devon McKay
• Release date: Aug 26, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393265276

Devon McKay

About Devon McKay Bestselling Author Devon McKay writes historical, contemporary, and paranormal romance with a western flair. If she's not writing, she's busy with chores on her small ranch, working on a stained glass project, or walking one of her three dogs through the woods. Her greatest joy is putting a smile on a readers face and hearing from fans.

Book preview

Fuming, Sam held his gaze as she considered his offer. She couldn’t have asked for a better opportunity to be dropped into her lap. She could learn everything she needed to know about Alaska and have a handsome, but overly protective, guide of the state to show her. Not to mention what his knowledge could do for the brochure.

It would also mean more time in his temperamental company.

Sam considered her options. She had gotten lucky finding Carlton Landing, but what about locating her elusive hotel? As proven last night, it was more than evident she couldn’t even read a map correctly. So, what real choice did she have?

She pictured her new office...the view of the ocean...the partnership. She was willing to take the chance. Besides, she’d never been the kind of girl who shied away from a challenge. Hell, so far, her life had been a series of challenges.

It’s a deal. Her voice came off cool and professional despite the quickening of her heartbeat. She offered her hand to shake on the agreement. We haven’t officially met. Samantha Held. I go by Sam.

Blake Langford. He extended his, grasping her hand and repeating the name she already knew by heart. He held onto her grasp for a minute longer than necessary. I go by Wolf.

Again, the breathtaking grin resurfaced, and an odd pulsation spiked through Sam, leaving her insides quivering like a bowl of gelatin as she second guessed her decision.

What kind of fool makes a deal with a man called Wolf?

Staking a Claim

by

Devon McKay

This is a work of fiction . Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

Staking a Claim

COPYRIGHT © 2015 by Devon McKay; COPYRIGHT © 2020 by Devon McKay

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical; including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval systems, without prior written permission of the author, except where permitted by law.

Published by Forever In Love Publishing

Cover Art by GermanCreative

The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

Published in the United States of America

Dedications

For my girls...

Randi for keeping my feet on the ground.

And Rachel, for not.

Chris, for the candid honesty.

Dawn, for a tie which can never be severed.

Maggie, for allowing a little dog to lead.

And lastly, Daphne, for being such a pint-sized diva!

Most of all,

I would like to thank you ladies for the laughter.

Chapter One

"Alaska ?"

So much for feigning indifference, Samantha Held scolded herself. Sparing a quick glance at her boss, she inhaled a ragged breath and prayed the man hadn’t heard the excitement in her tone.

For the past week, she’d been chomping at the bit in hope Stanley Kolinsky would choose her for this assignment. Designing a vacation brochure on Alaska? This was a dream come true, an opportunity of a lifetime, and she didn’t want to blow it. Unfortunately, being overly zealous with little patience happened to be one of her downfalls.

Sam silently counted to ten in an attempt to calm her nerves. So far, this performance didn’t seem any less eager than last year. But, she simply couldn’t help it; she wanted this so bad she could taste it.

Tapping her foot nervously, she recalled the hour-long speech her boss had recited months ago—a sixty minute spiel as to why she was not ready to take on a big advertisement. According to him, she’d been far too enthusiastic, and an overachiever too focused on her career. He’d even gone as far as calling her a hungry little fireball who ran over anyone or anything in her path.

Well, she had plenty of reasons why she was ready. She’d proven herself to be indispensable over the last six months, and he knew it.

Sam shifted her weight on the hard, unforgiving seat of the office chair and tried to control the insistent dance of her foot. Her career meant everything. And the last thing she wanted was a repeat performance of the previous rejection, even if the man was right.

Pursing freshly painted lips, she clamped her mouth shut and stopped the debate threatening to come forth. With her luck, she’d say something rash which Stanley might perceive as too ambitious. However, holding her tongue was never an easy task.

Though this morning’s coffee soured in her stomach, she scooped the half-eaten chocolate donut off of his desk and picked at the pastry in an attempt at a nonchalant attitude. In order for her plan to work, she had to appear completely impassive. And above all...not too eager. Scoring the huge, career-advancing advertisement meant a possible promotion to partnership. Her ultimate goal.

Yes, Alaska. Carlton Landing to be exact, Stanley said, interrupting the rampant path of her racing thoughts. I’m sure you’ve already done your research. From what I gather, it’s a small town with a large draw.

Fishing, she interjected, knowing from hours spent on the internet it was the top reason to visit the quaint little city bordering the Kenai River. Both for sport and subsistence. Salmon is a big staple for the Alaskan natives, she explained further. It’s a necessity to feed their families. Biting her bottom lip, she restrained herself from spouting off any more of the information she’d learned. Now was not the time.

Apparently satisfied with her answer, Stanley continued. Do you have any idea what landing this account could do for the Kolinsky Advertising Agency? He folded his hands together on top of the desk—an open invitation for her to reply.

Yes, sir. Sam nodded. I know exactly what’s at stake. She squirmed under his piercing gaze as the question repeated itself in her head. If they landed this account, the agency would be at the top of the food chain. Their name would be simultaneously connected to the billion-dollar tourist industry. The account meant success. Another jolt to her career. And the trip of a lifetime.

So, why did she feel the need to push for more? Why couldn’t she just tell Stanley yes and let it be enough? Because, it wouldn’t be. Not when it came to advancing her career to the point where she wanted it to be. She desired more. The need to succeed clawed at her insides, spurring her forward.

It was all she had.

Ever since the elder Kolinsky retired last year, and his absence opened up a new position, this was all she could think about. She wanted partnership. Her name on the board. Possibly even a branch of her own. A pipe dream perhaps, but Sam’s goal none the less, and the main reason she had to play her cards right.

He stared at her for a full minute and then stood. He began pacing behind his desk, drawing her attention to the sound of his shoes scuffling over the brown commercial carpet and the loud ticking of the clock on the wall.

After two years of working with the man, she knew how this worked. As if on cue, he stopped his march and assessed her with a long, thoughtful stare. Portraying disinterest, she examined the sleek, dark polish of her freshly manicured fingernails while internally gathering her troops for one more fight. This was the dance they danced, the normal routine: he contemplated assigning her to a project, and Sam fought for leverage. She sighed. He paced. They butted heads. All part of the game.

I could always send Eric, Stanley suggested, leaning over the desk.

She shot her head up, surprised he would even consider such a thing. A ridiculous image of the frat boy coworker adorned with a raccoon hat and bearskin cloak popped into her head. Eric? Of all the ludicrous ideas. Couldn’t Stanley see what a foolish mistake that would be?

I haven’t said no, Stanley, Sam pressed. How she remained to appear cool and impassive was beyond logic. Especially with her insides churning like freshly whipped butter.

And I haven’t offered you the account yet, Stanley replied curtly.

Showcasing a daunting smile, her boss examined her with guarded intensity. His gaze, as dark as coal, stabbed into her soul as if trying to probe her internal thoughts.

Eric’s an idiot, she snapped, unable to hold her tongue. Warmth spread across her cheeks, the tell-tale sign of her temper starting to flare. He can barely tie his own shoes.

In response, Stanley released a dry chuckle as if in agreement, and rational thoughts eased her mind. He would never send her inept coworker. Such a proposal was simply insane. Frat boy didn’t know the first thing about such a detailed undertaking. However, just the suggestion of Eric taking her place had hit its intended mark and shook Sam to the core.

Tugging her bottom lip between her teeth, she considered another side. The inspiring intern did have determination. He’d definitely displayed the same hunger as she had for success. If she was chosen for the assignment, what would stop the beady-eyed creep from moving into her job? Lord knows, he’d made little secret of his intentions. Eric had even gone as far as calling her small room his future office.

Refusing to dwell a moment longer on her nemesis, she fixated her complete attention on the man standing across from her. Displaying a stoic expression, Stanley was hard to read. He pushed his thick-rimmed, black glasses back on his narrow nose and braced his weight on the desk. Leaning forward, he pelted her with a sincere stare. Either she was in store for one of his famous speeches, or worse...another denial lecture.

You’re right. Eric’s not the best choice. You are, he admitted. Pausing, he drew in a deep breath before continuing. Sam, you’re the best I’ve got. You know it. I know it. No one can paint a picture like you. Nor can anyone sell a product as well. If we have any chance at all to nail this account, I have to send you.

A glimmer of hope spiked through her, but somehow she managed a crisp response in order to achieve what she really wanted. So, how long would I be gone?

Stanley grabbed a slate-colored book off his desk and took a step back. He flipped through the pages as he checked the calendar. Grabbing a pen, he marked a few dates. From now until the end of August. Should give you plenty of time to make the perfect brochure.

The entire summer? she questioned sharply, hoping to render the impression the length of time would inconvenience her. The truth was, she had no plans other than work anyway, but Kolinsky didn’t need to know she didn’t have much of a life outside of her job.

It’s just three months, Samantha, Stanley stated in a firm, matter-of-fact tone as he tossed the pen and ledger back onto his desk. Besides, I thought you wanted me to seriously consider you as a partner. This would be a step heading in that direction.

Shaking, Sam inhaled a deep breath. Finally, the words she’d longed to hear. Stanley was not only offering her the ad, but a chance at the partnership. Surprised at the way she’d been able to control her emotions, she felt a tug threatening the corners of her mouth, yet refrained from celebrating too soon. She may have passed his test, but the battle wasn’t over yet.

If I do this, I expect more than just being considered, she dared bravely, as her heartbeat accelerated and shifted into fourth gear. She was backing herself into a corner; if this didn’t work...then what? The end result wouldn’t be pretty. She’d be on the search for a new job, having lost all she had worked so hard to gain. But she couldn’t back down. Not now. She’d come way too far.

Standing, she straightened her navy-blue skirt and forced herself to remain calm.

Play it cool.

The words circled in her head as she strolled toward the window and peered down the six levels of the high-rise to the packed streets of Miami.

Even though it was a little after eight, the sun was already intense. Adjusting the blinds, she shaded her eyes against its blinding rays. The streets were busy, compacted with cars and a threat of an impending traffic jam. A normal scene. There was always a blocked off road or a traffic jam here, causing a riot of angry, impatient crowds and blaring horns.

Heat rose in shimmering waves up from the asphalt below, reminding her of the stifling warmth and sticky humidity. In her twenty-four years, she had never gotten used to Florida’s muggy weather.

She swept several wisps of pale, platinum blonde hair off her face, tucking the strands behind her ear as she centered in on the sight, not missing a beat. I’ll go. Pushing away from the window, she locked gazes with Stanley. "But I want to be partner. And I want it in writing, she negotiated, standing her ground. Also...a new office, one with a window facing the ocean." She shifted her weight under the assault of his penetrating stare and held her breath.

Several moments passed before he nodded his head and relocated himself behind the desk and into his chair. His focus was now diverted to the computer monitor.

You got it...partner...new office...a room with a view.

He tapped on the computer keyboard, not bothering to spare her a glance as he inputted information. A minute later, he stood and walked to the printer in the corner of the room. Picking up the printed sheet, he read it before nodding his head again.

He took the few steps toward her and offered the paper. You’re all set then. You leave Tuesday. Seven a.m.

A numb feeling of disbelief spread through her limbs. Not only had she got the job and was headed to Alaska, Stanley had said yes to the partnership.

Sam replayed the exchange again in her head in complete disbelief. In shock, his words repeated themselves until she was barely able to contain the happy dance threatening to erupt. She’d foreseen more of a dispute. In fact, other than the slip up about Eric, the interchange had seemed rather effortless.

Samantha cleared her mind. No, she had no room for negative thoughts. Instead, she wanted to bask in the glory. Reaching out, she accepted the flight information and shook Stanley’s outstretched hand, sealing the deal.

Today, she had achieved exactly what she’d set out for.

Partnership.

"All will be yours...if you deliver," Stanley said with a pointed look.

If I deliver, she repeated, questioning her sudden optimism.

Chapter Two

The stench of death hung in the air...a dinner bell to predators, and a silent warning to prey. Relying on instinct more than training, Blake Langford surveyed the area. Automatically, he placed a hand on the gun holstered at his hip and zeroed in on the section of woods where his friend, Denali, was examining a section of tall, beaten down grass Blake had assumed was an animal trail.

He returned his attention back to the dead animal at his feet. Kneeling beside the moose carcass, he studied the remains and grimaced. Denali had been right—a fresh kill. He spared another glance at the native before returning his focus on the perished moose. The body, still holding a trace of heat, steamed in the brisk morning air.

Taking in his surroundings again, he searched the dense woods for any sign of movement. There was a good chance the predator was nearby. Hopefully, the culprit was another animal. It would be easier to understand the needless kill by finding comfort in nature’s way of life, but he knew by the missing rack and discarded waste of good meat the damage had been done by man. An eager, out of state hunter who wanted a treasure to hang on the wall.

A trophy kill.

Disgusted, he stood. With his job as an officer for Fish and Game, he should be used to seeing such a blatant disregard for life. Perhaps even numb to it. But he wasn’t. He spared another glance in Denali’s direction. Nor would the tribe be. The deed tarnished everything they believed in.

Comes with the job, he reminded himself. Easing his conscience, he knew the department, highly honored with great field officers, would find the criminal. Nevertheless, it wasn’t easy to let go of the reins.

He focused on the remains, and his guts churned in revulsion. A sloshy sound on the tundra signaled Denali’s approach, but Blake refused to look up. He couldn’t. He knew what he’d see in his friend’s dark, coal stare and shared the same feeling. There was only one reason to kill an animal—as a source of food. Not some kind of ego-building prize.

Circling the carcass, he centered on several tracks a slight bit larger than a dog’s print in the mud. There were other culprits to consider.

"Bechechgeshii," Denali stated in a deadpan tone.

Wolves.

Blake nodded in agreement. It appeared to be a large pack; however, they had come after the kill, and from the looks of things, hadn’t stayed long. He cursed out loud and drew in a deep breath.

Zipping his light jacket, he shook off the crisp, biting breeze. Even though it was close to fifty degrees, the wind brought a chill to the air, reminding him the cool spring wanted to hang on, despite being on the brink of summer and nearing the end of May.

Alaskan weather...quite the temptress. Soon, it wouldn’t be cold at all, nor would the few hours of night be shrouded by dark. Already, they had been granted eighteen hours of light a day. The sun had been setting in the early, wee hours of morning, and by mid-June, nightfall would be merely a memory. Just one of many things he loved about living in the land of the midnight sun.

Rounding the carcass again, he kneeled and focused on more prints in the mud. The wolves wouldn’t have cared if their prey was already dead. This winter had heavy snowfall. No doubt the scavenging pack was on the brink of starvation. The moose, dead or alive, never stood a chance.

He stood and spared another glance at his surroundings. The pack wouldn’t have gone far. Not with this much meat still to be eaten. The loud engine of the four wheelers more than likely scared them away, but not for long.

Blake subconsciously patted the .44 Magnum on his belt loop. The weapon would prove ineffective against an aggressive pack of wolves. Deciding their best bet would be to ride to a more populated area, he headed toward his machine, determined to return later with another officer or two and more fire power.

Denali knew how to use a gun, but his friend preferred a more natural approach, and Blake wasn’t willing to gamble with their lives. A knife would have even less of a chance against multiple predators.

He glanced to the rifle case strapped across the front handlebars of his machine. By the time he withdrew the weapon, it would be too late. A shudder coursed through his body. Better not to play the odds.

As if to confirm his decision, he heard a not so distant howl.

Regardless of the danger, Denali began to chant, and Blake closed his eyes, in honor of the Athabascan prayer. After every kill, it was customary to thank the animal for giving its life so others could live. This situation proved no different, regardless of the way in which the moose lost its life.

A few minutes later, the sullen warrior stomped away from the kill site and mounted his aged, green ATV. Before starting the machine, Denali speared him with an angry gaze. Emotion lined the man’s normally stoic face, and Blake swallowed hard, seeing the torment flashing in his friend’s ebony eyes.

Wolves didn’t do that. The Alaskan native thrust a thumb over his shoulder and pointed at the massacre behind him. "Bechechgeshii kill for food. Not sport."

Blake nodded his head again and walked to his four-wheeler. What could he say? Denali was right—this damage had been done by man, not wolves. A fact he couldn’t change, but he’d be damned if he was going to let someone get away with such a shameless act.

He started his machine, and they began the slow trudge along the edge of the Kenai River toward home. With snow no longer on the ground, the all-terrain vehicles easily maneuvered around the pencil-thin birch and spruce trees. As soon as they were far enough away, Blake inhaled a deep breath and released the guarded hand he still held positioned on his gun.

His thoughts returned to the