Trevor began to scan over the activities of his men once more. After a few minutes of

this, he began feeling a bit like a hovering father. He knew that his tendency to be

overprotective had been amplified by Leland’s death. He tried to tell himself that he was not

at the club to supervise a daycare, and that the men were all adults who could take care of

themselves. None of them would fall into any kind of jeopardy if he looked away for more than

a few seconds. But he did not look away.

Only one of the living members of the crew was missing from the club. Trevor sighed

and took a swill of his brandy, thinking of their only female shipmate, Brynne. She had taken

the weekend off work to attend a family member’s wedding in Florida. While many crews still

archaically maintained that a woman on the ship was bad luck, Trevain felt the opposite—if

the woman was tough enough she could help to keep the men in line better than his authority alone ever could. Now, his superstition was confirmed, and he already dreaded having to tell

Brynne about Leland’s demise. She would be furious.

It occurred to Trevor, as his eyes wandered over the crowd, that it was a certain

specific type of person that was drawn to a place like this. Some of the folks, like himself, had

the misfortune of having been born and raised in Alaska, but the majority of the crowd,

especially during the fishing season, was not local. Both the men and the women, the patrons

and the dancers, probably had pasts which were darkened by financial difficulties. Something

awful had happened to many of them, or they had somehow been pushed to the realization

that they needed to make a drastic change and take drastic action. They had somehow

decided that fast money was worth very high risk or high levels of discomfort. Then, once they

had ventured into the world of large gains and large losses, they had been unable to turn

around and return to wherever they hailed from.

They were the same type of people who frequented casinos. The same type of people

who drove their cars a little too fast for the sensation it gave them. The same type of people

who experimented with substances which allowed them to step outside of themselves for a

moment. The same type of people who did not file their income taxes. The same type of

people who ventured to Alaska to fish for king crabs.

Everywhere he looked he could neatly categorize the humans into little mental file

folders for future reference. He could easily place them above captions and under

subheadings; except for that girl, Undina. She struck him as tremendously different and out of

place. Even from his infrequent, uncertain glances at her, he had gauged that she did not have

the air of desperation that most of the females in the place exuded. After her dance, she had

found a quiet place to sit which strategically overlooked most of the club, and she seemed to

be observing people and their interactions just as much as he was.

He felt inexplicably drawn to her. He felt kindred to her in that they were both

withdrawn onlookers, not active, wild participants in the madness of the establishment. He

wanted to go to her, but her perfect young body repulsed him. Perhaps he could relate to her

in certain ways, but his age was a greater disability than even his physical impairment. The

combination of the two tarnished any feeble chance he had of being remotely attractive to a

young girl.

He knew that she would take one look at his grey hair and his limp and her smile would

disappear in disappointment. That extraordinary dancer deserved an energetic young man

like Arnav.

“Captain Murrey!” a voice bellowed. Trevor looked for its source, and saw Aiden

holding up a bottle of beer in each hand as he slurred his speech, “Captain, come party with

us!”

Trevor shook his head and held up his hand to politely decline the offer. “Why’s my big brother alone?” Callen shouted, leaping up from his seated position