Primal Obsession Read Online Free PDF

among the three kids. Was your dad disappointed?”
    “He tried to recruit Justin. My brother loves the chase of police work but not the days he has to spend in court. Dad knew neither Thomas nor I would bite.” She peered back at him. “What about your family? Are they part of Moosewoods?”
    “Dad is,” he replied. “My mom passed away five years ago. Dad retired from the paper mill then and helps Ben out from time to time. Guides an expedition or teaches fly fishing now and then, enough to keep busy.”
    He refrained from mentioning Ben’s threat to replace him with his father. The old man could lead this expedition a hell of a lot better. He had more experience, more stories.
    But damn it, Sam could do this. He could bench his resentments and play the jovial guide, the Maine character. Not a difficult group. No challenging terrain.
    He expected no disasters, no serious white water. No sweat.
     

 
    FOUR
     
    “How did your parents feel about your baseball career?”
    He laughed. “Mom was always afraid I’d get hurt. Guess she was right.” He held up his scarred hand.
    “The same for your dad?”
    “He cheered me on, figured it was my ticket out of a future operating a pulp machine or driving a skidder.” He gritted his teeth. He might be facing that future after all.
    “And you, how do you feel about baseball? Is it the glamour and the crowds, or is it something else you love?”
    No one had ever asked him exactly that. A rush of memories flooded his mind.
    “It’s hard to put into words. The glamour and crowds? Never. That was a distraction. No, I loved baseball from the first time I ever played catch with Dad.” Backyard baseball with his dad and brother, the carefree days.
    “Nostalgia, huh?” Annie flung the question over her shoulder. “What else?”
    How could he tell her that he craved action and physical involvement like some people craved power or money? After a night’s sleep, he felt like hell until he had coffee and food, preferably something sweet. Then he needed action to feel alive. That meant sports or physical work or sex—yeah, sex.
    And how could he tell her the rush he got on a baseball diamond drove him nearly as high as sex? Hell, he couldn’t.
    Keep it clean, Kincaid.
    “I love everything about the sport,” he finally said. “Strategies like a squeeze play or a fielder’s choice or stealing second. The tension of waiting to bat. Psyching out the pitcher. The sound and feel when the sweet spot on the bat connects with that leather sphere. Teamwork, even rehashing after a loss. And in the outfield, that last-chance catch at the fence. Nothing sweeter.”
    She peered at him over her sunglasses. “Wow, I’m impressed. That was almost poetic.”
    Man, too freaking poetic. What was he thinking? Maybe he should ask her a few questions. “So how did you get into—”
    “Hey, Sam, is our campsite on that island?” Carl waved and pointed from the stern of his and Ray’s canoe.
    Ahead of them a wooded island rose from the lake’s middle. Driftwood littered a sandy cove and led up an incline to thick pines and a tangle of underbrush.
    “Nope. Head to the left and another half mile beyond the island.” Sam heard a muffled groan from Annie, but she kept paddling. He grinned at her determination. “The site’s a beauty. You’ll be glad you went the distance.”
    Carl gave him a thumbs-up and kept paddling. In the bow, Ray stowed his water bottle and dug in with his paddle. In the other canoe, Nora reminded her son to drink water, but he shrugged her off.
    At least he’s paddling. Sam hoped what he’d said to Frank back on shore wasn’t a bonehead play.
    Over her shoulder, Annie said, “I studied the map of the other trip, but I don’t recall this part of the Allagash.”
    “The Allagash Wilderness Waterway is a misnomer. Too much easy access and too crowded for wilderness immersion.”
    “Of course. Much too civilized.” If sarcasm were acid, he’d have a hole in