A Timeless Romance Anthology: European Collection by Annette Lyon, G. G. Vandagriff, Michele Paige Holmes, Sarah M. Eden, Heather B. Moore, Nancy Campbell Allen Read Free Book Online

from a Russian rifle taking Pete out.
    Please, please, please. The single word repeated itself as the purest prayer she’d ever offered. She still loved Pete. Always would.
    The freezing darkness pressed on her as she waited an eternity for Pete to return. She leaned against the trunk of a tree and closed her eyes, willing away the cold burning into her feet and hands. What she wouldn’t give to see— to feel!— the sun again.

Chapter Five
     
    Pete came upon the skirmish near the field kitchen and mess tents, not far from where he and Anna had been standing. Between a few lanterns on the ground and the bright moon, he could make out a bloody mess as men fought in hand-to-hand combat— something neither side was used to, he was quite sure; long-distance artillery and rifle shots were the norm.
    A couple of cooks in white, stained aprons ran past Pete, nearly knocking him over. At the same time, several others— including Kaisa from the field hospital— surged into the fray with improvised weapons: chairs, pocket knives, metal drawers. Kaisa had a scalpel in hand, and the fire of hell in her eyes. In spite of their efforts, Finns kept dropping to the snow, bleeding, one after the other.
    It’s a bloodbath. Pete’s stomach twisted with equal parts horror and terror. He looked over his shoulder in the direction he’d come, hoping Anna wouldn’t be spotted behind the trees. No one seemed to be going anywhere near her. He crouched behind a jeep beside the mess tent and watched.
    Suddenly, without any order or signal that Pete could tell, the Russians stopped fighting and went on the defensive, as if they were trying to run away. As if they were trying to run to some place.
    The Russians quickly retreated toward the kitchen and mess tent, leaving panting, wounded Finns behind. Several slumped against the nearest supports or even dropped to the snowy ground to catch their breath.
    That’s when Pete really looked at the Russian soldiers as they rushed into the mess tent. Their faces were chalky white, likely from the cold. But some noses, chins, and ears had black spots— frostbite. Their eyes were sunken in, their cheekbones and jawlines jutting out, skulls visible through stretched, thin skin. The men, young and old alike, retreated, stumbling into the mess tent and field kitchens as if driven, haunted by something.
    They’re starving to death.
    Quite clearly, the Russian attack had stopped as quickly as it had begun when the men smelled food. Cooking sausage soup was tantamount to a Thanksgiving feast for them. No doubt after they satisfied their bodies’ crazed drive to eat, they’d come to their senses and resume the attack.
    If the Finns were very lucky, this break would last long enough for reserve troops to arrive, and the Finns wouldn’t be slaughtered by the Reds.
    Better get back to Anna— fast, before they finish eating.
    As Pete turned to go, he spotted a Russian coming out of the kitchen with a whole sausage in one hand. He wore a look of absolute contentment as he left the mess tent, oblivious to anything but the heaven in his mouth.
    In that brief moment, at least this Russian became human for Pete. This poor young man— boy, really— had been forced far from home because of a heinous dictator. Starved. Lied to. He’d suffered from cold and hunger and looked not far from death from both.
    Yet the Finns had to fight back against men like this, destroy them all, or risk losing their very lives and liberty to the Soviet Block. Even with a best-case scenario, tonight wouldn’t be pretty. One side or the other had to die.
    The professional in Pete looked around, realizing that he’d never get any pictures of tonight; his equipment was too far away and in its cases. A strange sense of relief came over him at the thought, but the journalist side chided him.
    Pete turned and scurried down the slight hill of snow and along the path to where Anna hid. She had to be near, but all the pine trees looked the