12
Gunnar trailed after Sunny and the others as they made their way to the press conference. He didn’t want to go, had tried to talk his way out of it with more words than he’d strung together in a long time. Mason wouldn’t budge, so Gunnar sucked it up.
Situations like these reinforced his reasons for living out of the Seward city limits. He even kept his tours to the minimum needed to make ends meet. Not that he didn’t like people. He just didn’t like people en mass. He definitely wasn’t a fan of a camera shoved in his face and questions peppered at him.
Not that the press would give a rip about him.
He was a nobody.
Keeping that in the front of his mind helped. Kind of. Hopefully, the press would put all their focus on Mason and Sunny, the two superstars of the team, and let him just sit there and observe. Heck, even Julie was a somebody in the mushing circles.
Gunnar needed to talk to her, tell her he was a complete and utter jerk. Wouldn’t that be a fun conversation?
Hey, remember when you sent me those letters telling me you were dying and begging for help? Yeah… I just opened them, and I’m sorry.
If Julie didn’t slap him in the face, he would. He needed a good right hook to the noggin. Not that it would help. Nothing could make up for how he’d let her down when she’d needed him most.
He ran his fingers over his gritty eyes and rolled his head. Wondering if she was healed, if she was all right now, had kept him up late the last few nights. Not a good thing when he was supposed to be preparing for the expedition.
He stepped into the conference room to lights flashing and too many eyes trained on him. The desire to perform an about-face and double-time it back to his room almost had him moving out the door. Sunny turned and snagged his hand. Her mouthing, “Okay?” proved him a coward.
Pushing his shoulders back, he squeezed her hand and gave a quick nod. He’d jumped from planes into enemy territory in the cover of night, rescued elite special forces teams from dangerous situations, and survived being captured and interrogated by terrorists. He could handle a group of nosy reporters.
Besides, it wasn’t like they were covering some breaking news story or anything. They just wanted to get enough for their three-minute segment of the evening news. He could handle thirty minutes of them fawning over Mason and his bigger-than-life personality.
Gunnar pulled out the chair at the table set up at the front of the conference room and forced himself to relax into it. Mason thanked the reporters for coming with a joke about the weather and plunged into his presentation. As he laid out the plan for the expedition, Gunnar breathed a little easier. This wasn’t so bad, definitely not worth getting stressed over.
“You all know that Clark and I like to find ourselves a little adventure.” Mason laughed at his own joke, causing the reporters to roll their eyes or chuckle with him. “Since we conquered the South Pole, we knew we had to go to the other side of the earth. But we didn’t want to just go to the North Pole. A lot of really amazing people have done that, some skiing, some going from Canada unassisted with dog sleds. We thought since that had already been done, why don’t we try something new? Why not trek from Alaska to the Pole as fast as possible?”
“Mr. Steele, Katie Cullens here with KUTU. Just how do you plan on doing that? I know Nordic Canine Kibble sponsors racers for the Iditarod and Yukon Quest, but the Arctic Ocean isn’t like those terrains. There aren’t towns for checkpoints or medical and vet personnel if something goes wrong.” The reporter’s judgmental tone grated on Gunnar’s nerves.
Wasn’t Katie Cullens the reporter that tried to corner Bjørn into making the head of search and rescue in Seward look bad? Gunnar clenched his jaw, narrowing his eyes as he observed her expression. Why did she start right in on challenging the expedition? Did she honestly have concerns, or was she just trying to claw her way up the news ladder?
“Great question, Ms. Cullens.” The excited tone of Mason’s voice told Gunnar the man ate this attention up. “Each of our team members and their sleds will have GPS trackers on them monitored by our support team here, led by Saylor Reeds of Ascent, Inc. We are taking enough provisions for seven days of travel with three days of emergency rations as back-up. Every sixth day, Saylor and our team of experts will set up our mobile checkpoint station. Our expedition team will locate it with our GPS trackers that we are taking with us.”
“Isn’t that risky? The sea ice constantly shifts, and the extreme cold has the propensity to destroy equipment, making it useless.” Katie tilted her head, her perfectly shaped eyebrow lifting over her gray eyes.
“That’s true, but no glorious adventure comes without danger. Then it wouldn’t be an adventure.” Mason chuckled, not one bit fazed by her questions. “And to address your point on medical personnel, not only is Clark one of the best physicians in the world, but we are fortunate to have Gunnar Rebel on the expedition, whose experience in the military equipped him to handle any problems thrown our way.”
Katie’s gaze snapped to Gunnar. Her eyes widened before they narrowed into calculating slits, and Gunnar’s skin crawled. Why would she be so interested in him?
Mason continued to discuss the details of the expedition: the other team members, how many dogs each sled had, the ultimate goal. The entire time, Katie’s head bent over her phone as she slid her finger across the screen and typed faster than Gunnar had ever seen someone do on a phone. Her smirk right before she lifted her head had dread pooling sweat in his pits.
“Mr. Toll—” Katie interrupted Mason. “I’m confused by the qualifications you claim Lieutenant Rebel has. This expedition demands expertise in Arctic exploration and dog sledding. Though last summer he took tourists on joy rides across the glaciers in Seward, Mr. Rebel has spent the last fifteen years far from Alaska and the struggles you’ll undoubtedly come up against. While his service to our country is commendable, it didn’t prepare him for the rigors this expedition will require.”
The hackles on Gunnar’s neck rose like a wolf defending his position in the pack. Where did this prissy waif of a woman get off saying he wasn’t qualified? She had no clue what his qualifications were. Her two minute scour of the internet wouldn’t tell her of all the lives he’d saved, the harrowing hours spent putting his life on the line so others could live. He should rip into her, give her a first-hand experience of just a taste of his training.
He clenched his jaw so hard pain exploded behind his eyes. She didn’t deserve his justifications. He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back in his chair. Mason could fill her in if he thought it necessary.
“Excuse me, Katie, right?” Julie’s voice was the last one Gunnar expected to hear at that moment, and he whipped his head to her.
“Yes, Katie Cullens with KUTU.”
“Well, Katie Cullens with KUTU, do you know what a pararescueman is or the qualifications it takes to become one?” Julie’s soft words had Gunnar unfolding his arms and leaning closer.
“No, I don’t.” The first sign of hesitance entered Katie’s tone.
“You question Gunnar’s qualifications? He’s spent the last fifteen years rescuing Seals and Green Berets. The PJ selection process is the hardest training the US military throws at our soldiers. Less than twenty percent ever finish the two years of rigorous training to become a pararescueman. The military call the PJs in when there isn’t any other hope. They’re assigned to special ops teams to come up with solutions if and when missions go sideways.” With each word Julie spoke in his defense, his eyebrows rose in shock. “Not only that, but Gunnar knows mushing better than most racers I know. He was already an expert at wilderness survival before he went into the Air Force. I can only imagine his training increased his expertise exponentially. Before you so carelessly throw out accusations of inexperience, you really need to do your research. Gunnar Rebel is more than qualified to be a member of this expedition, and I’m grateful to have him on the team.”
Julie sat back with a huff, like the rapid release of words exhausted her. Did she really think that, or was she just being the peacekeeper she’d always been? Could it be that she didn’t hate his guts for what he had done to her?
She peeked down the table at him and gave a quick lopsided smile and shrug. He nodded his thanks. It was a small movement, not worthy of the gratitude he felt coursing through him. The gratitude zinged right alongside the small measure of hope her defense of him created.