Prologue

PROLOGUE

LET’S START WITH THIS . . .

I t was time to tell London the truth.

Shep sat with the Air One Rescue team around a fire table on the deck of Moose’s amazing log home overlooking the Knik River, listening to Oaken Fox strum his guitar as the Air One Rescue team razzed Axel about his big appearance on Good Morning, Alaska!

But Shep’s gaze couldn’t move off London. She sat, cross-legged on a chair, her blonde hair down, the firelight in her eyes, and all he could think was?—

Tell her.

Because frankly, any day, any rescue could go south. And it might not take an accident on the job either—look at Tillie, Moose’s waitress friend. Gone, into thin air, and despite Moose’s efforts to find her, he’d turned up nothing.

But the look on the man’s face betrayed worry, even if tonight he’d tried to put on a smile. Now, the man stood next to the smoking grill. He wore an apron and held a grilling fork, now putting ribeyes on a platter. “Steaks are off the grill and setting up,” he shouted. “Grab plates.”

The team got up, Oaken putting away his guitar, and Shep didn’t miss Axel pulling Flynn into the shadows of the deck, kissing her.

Yeah, see—even Axel had found the one.

Although, Shep had known exactly who the one was for years. Now, London helped carry the plate of steaks to the table.

“C’mon, you two! Dinner is getting cold!” Moose’s voice.

Axel broke away from his kiss with Flynn and shook his head.

The team sat down at Moose’s long wooden outside table. Boo had lit candles, and the steaks glistened on a plate next to grilled garlic bread, a salad, and some fried potatoes.

Moose prayed, then the team “amened.”

They nearly missed the ring of the doorbell. But someone sat on it, so Moose got up.

“Expecting someone?” Axel said.

He wiped his mouth, then dropped his napkin. “Nope.”

Then he headed into the house.

“So, Oaken, how’s that movie you’re working on?” Shep asked.

“I’m not in it, but I did a little video promo in a town called Ember a few weeks ago.”

“Ember, Montana?” asked Shep.

“Yeah.”

“I have a cousin who used to work for a smoke-jumper team out of Ember.” Shep dug into his steak.

“There’s a big forest fire raging right now, so hope he’s not in danger.”

“Naw, he’s married and lives in DC with his wife. Directs a Red Cross SAR team?—”

“Boo! Flynn!”

Shep looked up at Moose’s voice. He’d come out of the house, and his stricken expression put a fist through Shep.

Especially since his voice had thinned. “Can you guys . . . come here?”

The entire team got up and followed him into the house.

And then Shep, too, felt a blow, right to his lungs.

Tillie.

She sat on a bench in the kitchen. Long, dark hair pulled back, a black jacket, grimy jeans, and tennis shoes, brown eyes that widened when the crew came in. She held an ice pack to her cheek, her lip broken, her eye swollen.

Boo walked up to her. “Tillie? What happened?”

Poor Moose. He stood near the end of the counter, holding on like he needed balance. Or maybe just tucking in emotion behind the fierce, dangerous expression.

Everything stilled, waiting.

Then Tillie said, her voice quiet, even a little shaken, “I’m sorry, but I had no other choice.” She looked at Moose. “My daughter has been kidnapped. And I need your help to get her back.”