CHAPTER ELEVEN
Sadie walked up to the bar, sliding onto one of the stools, grateful to find the saloon still open past midnight. Thinking about it, Sadie hadn’t yet known the saloon to be shut. Winter in Alaska meant night fishermen, trappers, and hunters. Many of whom needed a stiff drink now and then, just like Sadie did right now.
Caz, the bar owner, looked surprised to see her. She was a broad woman, with short red hair and tattoos, who, in spite of her tough appearance, had a warm air about her. Sadie liked her.
“A double Scotch, when you’re ready Caz,” Sadie asked her. Caz raised a pierced eyebrow.
“I think it’s the first time I’ve seen you off duty, Agent,” she said. “Bad day?”
“You have no idea,” Sadie murmured. She felt exhausted and all her limbs were heavy with the need to
