Chapter 8

CHAPTER 8

D istracted driving only got people killed. And distracted flying?—

Never . Moose had been there, done that, and right now, he needed his entire focus on holding the bird steady as Axel worked to pluck a family out of the swollen Skilak River.

Some three miles upstream, the dam made of glacial boulders had broken free in the freezing autumn rain, and the river rushed through, overflowing banks, uprooting houses from their foundations, and sweeping away vehicles. All along the shoreline, families evacuated houses that perched on the precipice of the shoreline. They’d already rescued one family from their rooftop after a tributary swept over their property and surrounded the house in glacial ice and debris.

Now the swollen, raging waters had swept a bridge from its moorings, taking a caravan filled with a family—mom, dad, two children under the age of ten—along with it. It lay on its side, half submerged, caught on the debris of the bridge, the family clinging to the vehicle while the frigid, churning, slate-gray water swept over it.

“Ten feet from the car. Almost there.” Shep’s voice, giving Moose the play-by-play as Axel went down on the line, accompanied by the basket. The wind from the storm had died, so the chopper wasn’t pitching, but if the basket caught in the rapids, it would jerk the bird. Moose kept his eyes on the instruments, the terrain in front of him, listening, seeing the rescue in his mind’s eye.

“He’s at the car,” Shep said.

“Axel, don’t you dare unclip from the line.” Boo’s voice, as the EMT leaned over the chopper door, watching.

Good try, Boo , but Axel had his own mind, although yes, he knew safety protocol. And since he’d nearly drowned in a sinking charter boat this summer, he’d been markedly safer.

Somewhat.

Okay, maybe not.

In a moment, Axel’s voice came through the radio. “I’ve got the kids in the basket and jackets on the parents. I’m coming up with the basket.”

Which meant the snarl in Moose’s chest could ease now, just a little. But the fight with Tillie still sat in the back of his brain, and three hours later, he just couldn’t shake the feeling that she was still in danger.

Of course she was in danger. Not only because of her words— “Because I can destroy it all” —but he’d met Rigger. The man might clean up well, but Moose knew the substance of what lurked under that semi-clean-cut demeanor. His leg still burned with the knife wound along his thigh.

The man had something on Tillie, some reason he couldn’t let go and?—

“Moose, you’re drifting!” This from London, who looked over at him.

He glanced at the directional gyros and moved the chopper back into position. Axel swung on the basket line, along with the kids.

“Hey, not on a joyride here, Cap,” Axel said.

Moose said nothing, just tightened his jaw. Focus . He could do nothing for Tillie right now except pray. Pray and hope she did what he’d asked.

His chest hurt with the truth he couldn’t face.

Shep drew Axel aboard, and Boo pulled the kids out, wrapped them in blankets, and strapped them into seats as Shep sent the basket back out, Axel still affixed to the hoist.

“Ten degrees to the south, Moose,” Shep said, and Moose corrected.

London looked out the window. “You’re spot on. Hold here.”

Easier said than done, but he made the tiny adjustments with the cyclic to keep it in place, and Axel loaded the parents onto the basket.

“We’re in. Bring us up!” Axel to Shep, and he winched up the line.

Moose moved the collective and increased the pitch angle on the blades, and the chopper rose, just in case one of the houses teetering upstream on the edge of the washed-away bank took a plunge. He’d already watched one house go in, crumbling away from its moorings, into the flood, to be swept into the dirty, frozen river.

He held the chopper steady now as Shep and Boo helped pull the basket into the deck and the two parents piled out, shivering, sopping wet, probably a little hypothermic.

Axel, dressed in his thermal jumpsuit, also climbed into the bird. He unhooked and held on to the basket while Shep closed the door.

“Back to the CESS,” London said, picking up the radio to update the Central Emergency Services Station about their approach. The fire station already had units out, rescuing people in more accessible areas.

Twenty minutes later, they touched down in the parking lot, the area cleared and cordoned off for Moose’s chopper. He turned off the rotors before Shep opened the door. A couple firemen ran out to help, but Boo had given the family a check over—no major injuries. Still, the hospital in Soldotna would confirm.

“Any more callouts?” He looked at London, who was on the radio with the local rescue coordinator. He could hear their conversation, but again . . .

Tillie still crept around his head and?—

“Nope. We’re clear. And we’re nearly at Bingo, so . . . ”

“Roger. Shep, get us tucked in back there. We’re leaving in five.”

Although he’d done his preflight check before taking off, he gave everything a once-over as Shep and Axel secured the basket and Boo finished handing off the family to the EMS. Fuel gauges, instruments and radio, altimeter, trim—it kept his mind off what he might find back at his house.

As in, Tillie, gone.

Boo climbed back in, and Moose waited until everyone was strapped in, then lifted the Bell 429 into the air.

The sun hung low, just above the mountains, which cast deep shadows into the basin of the Alaska Range. The rains had churned up the waters of the Cook Inlet, frothy and dark, and the lights of Anchorage glittered in the distance.

He called in clearance to Merrill Field as they drew closer, then set down on the tarmac, near the Air One garage.

Shep opened the door and they piled out; then he and London shut down the bird. Axel and Shep strapped the chopper down, and Moose got out and checked their work.

The sun had fallen, the sky turning bruised and dark as Moose headed into the Tooth, located in a separate building away from the Quonset hangar that housed their vehicles, the four-wheelers, the snowmobiles, the rescue truck, and, tied down nearby, his Cessna, caught in the shadows of the night.

Boo and London had already flipped on the lights, their voices emerging from the locker room past the main area.

Home . Not really, but his timber home on the river always felt . . . borrowed. He hadn’t earned it. Hadn’t built it. Didn’t deserve it. And perhaps he didn’t deserve Air One, either, but Moose had designed the Tooth, from the parachute hanger in the back to the workout room, the bunk room, the lavatories, the locker room, his office, and the main area, all focused around team building and function. He’d overseen the construction, painted the walls, purchased the secondhand leather sofas that faced the flatscreen, installed the kitchen cupboards, designed the massive island, and found the long table that served as their meeting area. He’d tacked the maps of Alaska on the walls and purchased the lockers and benches in the locker room from an old school. Found preowned weight equipment. And poured everything he had into building this place.

Building his legacy.

Strangely, he hadn’t given a thought to the lawsuit since Tillie had shown up at his doorstep, but now, as he headed into the office, the manilla envelope still sitting on his desk, a sickness pooled in his gut.

He couldn’t lose this place. In a way, he knew how Tillie felt—he’d do anything to protect what he loved. His team. His family.

Tillie and Hazel? He didn’t know what to do with the churn of feelings.

Savior complex? No. He didn’t have to save someone to feel complete. He just needed to know he hadn’t failed them.

He waited until the women walked out of the locker room, then followed Axel and Shep in and changed out of his jumpsuit and into his street clothes. He’d shower at home.

Axel had changed too and now pulled his phone from the top of his locker. “I have five missed calls from Flynn.” He turned on his voicemail.

Moose sat on the bench, lacing up his boots. Stopped at the expression on Axel’s face.

Shep shut his locker door, and Moose flinched, clearly on edge. He slowly stood up.

Axel lowered the phone. Took a breath. Looked at Moose, his face stricken. “Moose, I think you should sit back down.”

“Just tell me.” And suddenly, yes, he should sit down, because if Rigger had found Tillie and Hazel while he was out?—

“Tillie has a warrant out against her for kidnapping.”

Moose stared at Axel.

“While we were back in Copper Mountain, I called Flynn to check on Rigger. She did and discovered that just recently, a judge awarded him custody of Hazel. He swore out a complaint against Tillie for taking Hazel out of state. Flynn went to talk to her?—”

“To arrest her?”

“To bring her in.” He held up a hand. “Just so they could figure out what was going on and?—”

“So Tillie is in jail ? Where is Hazel?”

“I don’t know, but Tillie’s not in jail.” Axel glanced at Shep. “Brace yourself, because she resisted arrest, attacked Flynn, and ran.”

Moose sat down. “Tillie took Hazel to protect her.”

“No doubt,” Axel said. “But if she’s noncustodial parent.”

“But Rigger isn’t her father, so how . . . how did he get custody?”

“Unless he is her father,” Axel said softly.

Silence around him. He met Axel’s eyes. “It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter. Tillie is her mother, and something feels off, very off here. Is Flynn hurt?”

“No,” Axel said. “Or, she didn’t say. But Tillie’s clearly in trouble?—”

Moose nodded. “Okay. Listen, you check on Flynn. I’m going to try to find Tillie. I’m sure that this can be figured out.”

Axel nodded, his mouth tight, what seemed like a little disbelief in his expression.

“I refuse to believe that Tillie is the criminal here. Sorry, but I met Rigger. This is not right.” He hit his feet.

“It doesn’t have to be right, Moose. But it’s the law.” Shep’s voice stayed calm, quiet.

Moose looked at him. “What’s better—to be on the side of the law, or to do what is right?”

“Let’s get all the facts first,” Axel said, stepping in. “I’ll find Flynn and we’ll do some digging.”

“Let me know if I can do anything,” Shep said.

Moose shut his locker, his gut churning. No wonder she hadn’t wanted to tell him the truth.

Boo had already left with London, and now Shep grabbed his backpack and headed out the door.

Axel was on the phone with Flynn. Moose walked into his office, glanced at the envelope, then picked up his truck keys and phone. No missed calls.

Tillie hadn’t even tried to get ahold of him.

“I’m heading over to Flynn’s place,” Axel said, pulling on his jacket. He paused. “I know you care about Tillie, but this is more trouble than you want. Just sayin’—you have a lot on your plate?—”

“I made her a promise.”

Axel sighed. “I know. But your promises are going to get you into trouble. You can’t save everyone. That’s not your job.”

“You don’t understand?—”

“I think I do, big bro. The fact is, you think you’re responsible for everything. And everyone. And I get that that’s the way you were made, but I think it’s more than that. I think you believe that if you don’t, then somehow you’re . . . I don’t know . . . failing. Or letting God down or . . .”

Ungrateful . Moose didn’t say it, but the word lodged inside even as his jaw tightened. “I’ve been given a lot, Axel. I just want to honor that.”

Axel took a step toward him. “I know. But there is your portion, and there is God’s portion, and it seems like you’re having a hard time figuring out the difference.”

Moose’s shoulders rose and fell.

“It would be better for you to break your word than to get into bigger trouble trying to keep it.”

“Says the guy who went down with a ship that wasn’t his.”

Axel held up his hands. “I just care about you. And Tillie is great . . . but she’s also got baggage?—”

“We all have baggage,” Shep said.

Axel raised an eyebrow.

“I have baggage.” Moose drew in a breath. “The kind of baggage that makes me grateful for a second chance. The kind of chance that Tillie deserves.”

“Someday we’re going to talk about that baggage,” Axel said as his phone rang again. “For now, don’t do anything stupid.” He answered the phone on the way out. “No, she’s not here.” He pushed out the door.

Not here .

It hadn’t occurred to Moose that Tillie might come here . Did she even know where he worked? His mind had put her at the Skyport Diner.

But the cops would have checked there.

No, she wouldn’t be any place Flynn would know to check. Shoot, he didn’t have a clue where or how to find her.

He picked up his jacket, pulled it on, shoved his phone into his back pocket, and fisted his keys, his prayer back on his lips. Please. Keep her safe. Bring her help if she needs it .

He headed to his pickup, leaving the Tooth unlocked for Shep, who was still in the locker room.. Axel had already pulled out, was turning onto the highway.

He was taking out his fob to unlock the doors when he heard shuffling, then a voice. “Stop.”

He froze. Glanced over to the plane. And spotted a figure standing there, her outline easy to recognize

She held a pistol.

His bear pistol, the one he usually kept locked in his office. He’d left it in his plane the last time he’d flown— aw . . . “Tillie, just breathe.”

“I need your keys, Moose.” Her voice wavered.

“Yeah, no. This is . . . c’mon, this is crazy. We can figure?—”

“Why, Moose? Why?” She stepped out from the shadow of the plane, still mostly obscured, but he could make out her face, the anguish on it, and from the way her voice shook— oh , she’d been crying.

Now it mixed with a sort of fury, given the texture of her expression. “Why did you betray me?”

He frowned. Then, “What?”

“You told them where I was.”

He did what? “No—what? No, Tillie, I didn’t?—”

“How did Flynn know about me? Or where I was—you told Dawson that Hazel likes ice cream! Talk about manipulative?—”

“I didn’t say anything! I was out on a rescue?—”

Her mouth tightened.

And then—“Hold on. I told Axel to ask Flynn to look into Rigger—and that’s how she found the kidnapping charge, but I swear to you, I didn’t talk to Dawson or whatever it is you’re accusing me of.”

“She knew I was at the hospital.”

He had nothing. Wait . . . “Shep told you about Roz. Axel was there—maybe he told Flynn that you were going to the hospital. . . . And hello, but what kid doesn’t like ice cream? I don’t know, Tillie. I just know that you need to take a breath here. Calm down?—”

“Calm. Down ?” Her voice wavered again. “ Did you not catch the news brief? I’m wanted—and now a fugitive—and Hazel is probably going to foster care!” Her hands shook, and if she came one step closer, he could close the distance, get the gun from her.

Not that he believed she’d actually shoot him. Probably not .

“Do you know what it feels like to be ripped away from your family, to live in foster care?”

“No. But I do know there are many foster care families?—”

“It’s not about foster care! It’s about the fact that you have no control over your life. That in a second, your entire world could implode. It’s about being seven years old—or twelve—and having to sleep in a foreign bed with strange people telling you to call them Mom and . . .” She shook her head. “I told Pearl I’d never let that happen to Hazel. Never .”

His voice fell. “Okay. But—listen. We can figure this out. As her mother, you have rights, even if Rigger does have custody?—”

“But I’m not her mother.” The words emerged soft, almost as if wrenched from deep inside.

He stilled. His heart, his brain, his breath. What?

She looked wrecked, her voice broken. “I’m not her mother. Pearl was. I’m her aunt. And the only one she has.”

Oh . The words shook through him.

And then, somehow, deep inside, the words released the terrible knot he’d been fighting for three days. “You didn’t have an affair with Rigger.”

Her mouth pinched. “I was a different person back then, but not that different. And I would never have betrayed my sister.”

The sadness in her tone made him ache. But honestly, “You can’t blame me, Tillie. You didn’t tell me anything . This entire time, you’ve been acting like you’re her mom?—”

“I am her mom.”

Right . He sighed. “Okay. But do you have legal custody of her?”

She swallowed, her mouth tightening. “I should. Pearl wrote a letter to the court, but . . . I couldn’t . . . we couldn’t . . .”

“So after your sister died, you just . . . kept her.”

“What would you have done, Moose? Given her back to Rigger?”

And that’s what didn’t make sense. “No, probably not, but . . . that’s the thing. Why does Rigger even want her? He has a family, a wife, and a home and . . . I don’t understand.”

“He got the judge to issue a kidnapping warrant on me so he could track me down. He doesn’t want her. He wants me .”

The night had sprinkled a few stars above, and they illuminated her face, stony but broken, and her words in the driveway returned to him.

“Because you could destroy him.”

She nodded. “I could testify against him. I should have testified against him.”

“For what?”

“For . . . so much. But mostly, murder.”

He froze. “What?”

“It’s a long story.”

“Okay. What if you told it to me without a gun pointing at me.”

She winced. “Moose, I’m . . . I . . .”

“You can trust me, Tillie.”

Her face crumbled. “Yeah. No. I?—”

He took a step toward her. Then another until the gun nearly pressed to his chest. Softly. “You can trust me. I will help you.”

And yes, Axel was right—his promises were going to get him into trouble. But right now . . . “Tillie, I . . . I think I love you. Or I want to. Ever since you first served me pie and told me that you’d make me a milkshake and then sat with me and made me feel like I wasn’t . . . I don’t know . . . that I didn’t have to . . .”

“Moose.” She lowered the gun. “I’m so scared.”

He reached out for her then and pulled her to himself and held on. Because, yeah. “Me too.”

She wrapped her arms around his waist and buried her head against his chest. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

He closed his eyes. “No more sorries. We’re going to figure this out.”

And of course, he added, “I promise.”

Shep had hoped that the rescue would flush the shock of seeing Colt out of his system.

He pulled up to the Tooth, the place dark and quiet, and let himself in. The big refrigerator hummed, but night bathed the place in shadow.

Shep set a jar of pickles and a ham sandwich on the counter, opened the jar, and didn’t bother to turn on the lights as he ate, thinking about Colt and his meeting that morning, which, given the rescue op, felt like a couple years in the rearview mirror.

The man had nearly blown everything when he’d texted Shep at Moose’s, asking him to meet in Copper Mountain before Shep picked up London and drove them back to Anchorage. The last thing Shep needed was London walking into the Last Frontier Bakery and discovering that his asking her to join Air One Rescue hadn’t simply been a friendly request.

He didn’t understand all of it, but Colt’s words this morning had stuck with him the entire drive down, and during the rescue, and had even followed him back to the Tooth.

“We got word from our operative in Europe that the Petrov Bratva is still looking for her.”

Colt had kept his voice low, and really, Shep didn’t understand quite what he meant, but he got the gist of it.

Danger. For London . Because of who she’d been.

And even that he didn’t have a full picture of, but she’d been important enough in her circles for people to want her dead. Which was why a year ago, Colt had given Shep her contact information and told him to reach out to her. She’d been working with a missionary group in Nigeria, so that was a surprise. But yes, reach out to the woman he couldn’t forget? No problem.

He should have asked more questions.

“Still ice climbing?” Colt had asked today in the bakery, grinning over his cup of coffee and cinnamon roll as if they might be old friends.

Shep recognized the roll as one from Moose’s mother’s kitchen.

“Nope. Nearly dying with you was enough.” Shep finished his coffee. “I need to bring her into the loop.”

Colt’s grin vanished. “Yeah. And then what? You tell her that all this time you’ve been spying on her?—”

“Not spying. Protecting .”

Colt held up his hands. “She can take care of herself. What we asked you to do was definitely in the realm of spying.”

“And this conversation is over.” Shep got up.

But Colt also got up. And suddenly wore the look of a former Army Ranger. “Listen, if she gets spooked, she’ll vanish again. It took my people two years to find her after the avalanche. She’d changed her name, again, and if it hadn’t been for her showing up at a humanitarian base I happened to be working security at, we never would have found her.”

“Why don’t you bring her in if she’s that valuable?”

Colt drew in a breath, his mouth pinching at the corners. “The more she believes that she’s started over, that she’s safe, that no one knows what she’s done and who she is, the more she relaxes. And then, maybe we get lucky.”

“Are you telling me you want someone to find her?”

“No. But we do want someone to make a move. We’ve been trying to figure out who might be behind some events that happened globally. And she’s the key to that.”

Silence.

“Not going to fill me in?”

“I don’t even know everything. But I do know that she can’t go missing. And if she does, then we’re back at ground zero. So keep her close.”

“I don’t want to keep lying to her.”

Colt picked up his cup. “Listen. I get it. No one likes to keep secrets from someone they care about. Believe me—my fiancée, Tae, kept so many secrets from me she nearly got my family killed. But she thought she was keeping us safe.”

“That’s a terrible excuse.”

“Look. She’s already been betrayed once. If you tell her, it’s over. And she’s in the wind.” He finished his coffee. “You see anything out of order, or she starts to act strangely, you tell us.”

The whole conversation had left a pit in Shep’s stomach, especially when he picked London up from the Samsons’ B and B and drove to Anchorage.

They’d talked about Hazel and Tillie, and then Moose had called them about the rescue, and by the time they reached the Tooth, London had downloaded the weather report and the wind report and gone quiet, in the zone, ready to fly.

He always returned from a rescue a little buzzed on adrenaline, tired and yet wired, needing to work out the knots of his rescues, and sometimes, he hit the gym in the Tooth.

Especially tonight. After they’d gotten back to the Tooth, Shep had watched London leave with Boo, and she’d been friendly enough.

Because, hello , that’s all they were. Friends. And that’s probably all they would ever be. Even with Oaken’s words in his head. “When you find the one, you know, right?”

If he could, Shep would go back to the moment he’d invited her to Anchorage and tell her the truth. Or instead, he’d return to that day on the mountain three years ago and not let her leave.

As if he had had a choice, but . . .

He finished his sandwich, grabbed a pickle, ate it, and put the jar in the fridge.

Then he went into the locker room, changed clothes, and came out in workout gear. Moose hadn’t exactly built a full gym, but the workout room contained mirrored walls, a weight set, a Nordic track, a treadmill, and an elliptical.

He got on the elliptical and turned on the flatscreen.

Oh, perfect, the finale of their stupid show, and this one had the scene with Oaken returning to greet Mike Grizz and his happy family.

Never mind the fact that someone Mike had trusted had tried to kill him.

Shep turned up the resistance. The fact was, he’d never wanted to be her babysitter. But he owed Colt. And shoot, of course he cared for London.

Colt’s words in his head burned through him. “The more she believes that she’s started over, that she’s safe, that no one knows what she’s done and who she is, the more she relaxes. And then, maybe we get lucky.”

Get lucky how? Someone would try to kill her?

Yeah, Shep wanted out. Or at least, he wanted to tell her the truth.

“I thought I’d find you here.”

He looked over his shoulder.

London stood in the doorway, her hair pulled back, dressed in workout gear.

“Hey.” Did he sound guilty? He felt like he sounded guilty. He slowed the elliptical. He hadn’t broken a sweat yet, but his heart thundered.

“Are you here to work out?”

“Nope.”

The elliptical stopped. He got off, grabbed a towel. At least he didn’t smell. He wiped his face.

She stood there, arms folded. “We need to talk.”

Oh? And suddenly— oh no , had she figured him out? Their conversation from the elevator yesterday rushed back at him. Sarah Walker. Chuck.

Captain Awesome. Whatever .

“I can’t stop thinking about . . .”

And here it came?—

“The kiss.”

Right. That .

“I know that . . . you probably thought that my hesitation was about Tomas, and losing him, but it wasn’t. I . . . there’s something you don’t know?—”

He held up his hand. “We don’t need to go back there, London. It’s in the past. I know you need time.”

She stepped up to him. “Actually, that’s the thing. I don’t need time. I . . . I don’t know why I thought I wasn’t ready, but . . . I am ready.”

He blinked at her. Oh ?—

She stepped closer, touched his arm. “You were amazing today. As always. You always know what to say, what to do, and you’re the most . . . honest, real man I’ve ever met.” She smiled, shook her head. “Trust me, I’ve known plenty of jerks. But with you, what you see is what you get, and that’s . . . refreshing. And super sexy. And . . .” She caught her lip, then looked up, searching his face. “You should give kissing me another go.”

He stilled. No, no ?—

But what was he going to do? She was right there, stepping up to him, lifting her face to his.

And again, his brain got up and walked out the door, down the hall, and sat down on the sofa while his arms went around her, while she curled hers around his neck, and while he lowered his mouth to hers.

No, no ? —

Yes . Because she tasted sweet, her body warm and strong against his, and somehow it felt right and good to simply hold her.

Finally.

And then the wanting started. Deep inside, it curled through him, a desire that he’d banked for a long, long time, so long he’d forgotten the power of it.

Oaken’s voice tiptoed into his head. “When you find the one, you know, right?”

Yes.

Except, Colt was there too . . . “She’s already been betrayed once. . . .”

He lifted his head. “London, stop. Stop.”

Even as the words emerged, he winced. What was he doing ? But he couldn’t kiss this amazing woman and keep secrets from her.

Not when he knew how secrets destroyed.

She stepped back. “What?”

“London.” He caught her hand. “Listen . . .” The confusion in her beautiful eyes just locked him right up. “I need to tell you something. You don’t know everything about me. I’m not . . . all . . . you think.”

She made a face then, a sort of incredulous look and shook her head. “What kind of secrets do you have? Seriously.”

He took a breath. “Okay, but first, I need to tell y ou something.”

She narrowed her eyes.

Then, “I know you were a spy.”

And that stopped her cold. She drew in a breath. “What?”

“I know you did covert ops . . . and I know that something terrible happened on that mountain three years ago. Something more than an avalanche and your fiancé dying.”

“I think that was enough.”

He held up his hand. “Terrible enough for you to change your name and go into hiding as a so-called missionary in Nigeria.”

Her eyes widened. “I wasn’t hiding?—”

“I know all this because . . . Colt is my friend too.”

A beat.

“Colt? You’re friends—since when?”

“We served together.”

“Before or after he was captured by Boko Haram? Because that’s how I know him—he was in Nigeria working private security for a doctor at a refugee camp in Nigeria and got kidnapped.”

“Before. I was with the Tenth Mountain Division and got seconded to Colt’s Ranger team, as a medic. But most importantly, Colt . . . he asked me to keep an eye on you.”

She looked at him and then . . . laughed. Laughed?

“Seriously?”

“Yes—”

“Okay, yes, I can see that. And that makes sense. He always thought I was a CIA agent or something.” She shook her head. “Colt is wrong. I was never a CIA agent. But I was definitely Agent Walker.” Then she winked.

And just like that, the world froze, cracking.

The fact was, despite everything, London had never actually lied to him. Omitted, yes. Kept her past a blank slate, of course.

But lied to him straight out?

Never.

Until now.

“See, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” Then she cupped his face. “No more secrets.”

Yeah, whatever . He caught her wrists, pulled her hands away. “No. Colt asked me a year ago to watch over you.”

“What?” She shook from his grip.

Aw . Because now he remembered the rest of Colt’s words. “If you tell her, it’s over.”

But the fact was, one of them had to stop lying.

“He told me you were in trouble. And that you needed a fresh start. So he asked me to connect you to Moose, and . . .”

“You’re serious.” She took a step back. “You brought me here to spy on me?”

“No—I was trying to protect you.”

“By lying to me?”

He bit his words back, arched his eyebrow, and then, “I don’t think I’m the only one lying here, London.”

She gasped. “I don’t know what I was thinking . . .”

“London!”

She held up her hand. “Just stay away from me.”

Then she walked away.

And he stood there, like the man in the river hanging on to his car, watching the floodwater of his own lies sweep everything away.

“Is your answer always pie?”

Tillie sat in the truck cab overlooking Kincaid Park, the wan light of a nearby streetlight shining against the pavement, the waters of the Cook Inlet dark save for the moonlight tipping the waves.

On the other side of the road, across from the park, Ted Stevens Airport shone like a beacon in the night, and occasionally, airplanes jetted off for the lower forty-eight or Hawaii, or even international destinations like Russia or Seoul.

An empty container sat between them, just the crumbles of an order of hot, spicy midnight chicken remaining, along with a few unclaimed French fries.

But it was the apple pie that seemed to find the right place in her empty stomach. Cinnamon, nutmeg, apples . . .

Or maybe it was the just sense of . . . safety. Of being with Moose, and . . .

She shouldn’t be here. But she hadn’t been able to stop herself from lowering his bear gun when he’d stepped up to her, his expression gentle and urgent, his soft voice delivering the words she so longed to believe. “You can trust me. I will help you.”

Starting, apparently, with chicken and pie.

“The answer is always pie,” he said now, finishing off his own piece of pie. “It’s better than a shot of whiskey.”

She glanced at him, not expecting that comment. “Oh, really?”

He gave her a wry look. “Yep.”

There was so much more there, in his eyes. But they weren’t here to unearth his demons.

So she took a breath and, “My mom made amazing apple pie.” And she didn’t know where that had come from, but starting there felt easiest.

He closed his empty pie container and picked up a cup of hot cocoa, sipped it. He’d pushed his front seat back and now leaned back into the door, considering her. “I would have expected key lime pie in Florida.”

“Apple is my dad’s favorite. He’s from Minnesota. He moved to Florida when he was a teenager, and met my mom. She was originally from Puerto Rico, and her family were immigrants.”

“Not really, though, because you’re a US citizen, too, if you’re born in Puerto Rico.”

“True. And both of my parents took that pretty seriously. My dad enlisted after 9-11. I was six years old. He became a marine.”

“That makes sense.”

“We lived in North Carolina for the first four years—he was deployed on a ship, and then he reenlisted and became a Marine Raider.”

“MARSOC.”

“Yeah. We moved off base and bought a home in Jacksonville, North Carolina, and then, when I was twelve, my mom died of cancer.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“It was terrible. Worst part was that they didn’t catch it early—she was sick a lot and finally got in to see the doctor, and when she did, it was all over. She died less than three months later. Dad was devastated.”

Moose nodded.

“I had sort of stepped up by then. My sister was ten, and I did a lot of the cooking. Made a mean pot of macaroni and cheese. And ramen.”

“And milkshakes?”

She didn’t know why her eyes wetted. But of course he’d put that together. Because Moose was exactly that thoughtful.

“Yes. My mom loved milkshakes. They tried chemo for a while, but after one round, it didn’t work, and she decided not to try any more. So Dad came home from deployment, and we went on a family vacation to Florida and . . . then she died, just a couple months later.”

“Wow.”

“He didn’t know what to do with us. He’d been gone for most of our lives, really, and . . . he could have gotten out of the military, but it was all he knew, so he went back in and put us in foster care. The last thing he ever said to me was that he’d be back. And then we pinky promised, and I never saw him again.”

She swallowed, hating how that still made her entire body ache.

“You didn’t have family in Minnesota?”

“No. Dad was an only, and his mom had died. His dad remarried, and the stepmom didn’t want us.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Yeah. Mom’s family wasn’t able to take us either. Her parents were in assisted living, and she had a brother, but Dad didn’t know where he was, so . . . yeah, foster care was the only option. Dad worked with a family rep from the military, and we went with a family who understood military deployments. But . . . it didn’t make it any easier. Pearl and I felt orphaned.”

“I’ll bet.”

She’d closed up her Styrofoam box and put it on the dash.

“Pearl met Rigger when she was about fourteen. He was my age, two years older than her. That’s also when she experimented with drugs for the first time. Oh, I was mad. After our mom died of cancer, I thought, how could she do that to her body, you know? She saw our mom suffer, and all those drugs were destroying her too.”

He nodded. “But kids don’t think about their health. They’re just hurting and need to fix it. ”

“Yes. And I panicked. I threatened to turn her in to our foster mom if she didn’t stop using.”

His mouth made a grim line.

“Yeah, I know. She got mad and ran away, and I went out looking for her, and we both ended up in juvie as runaways. We switched foster homes then, to another military family, but not far enough away from Rigger, and it happened again.”

“Did your dad find out?”

“I don’t know. By that time, we’d gotten word that he’d gone missing, so . . . I figured I’d have to take care of her.”

“So you enlisted.”

“I was seventeen, took my GED and got emancipated. Then I joined up. Went to boot camp, deployed to Afghanistan.”

“What was your MOS?”

She picked up a plastic bag and put the empty containers in it. “Counterintelligence.”

He said nothing.

She looked up.

“You were a spy?”

“No. Hand me your container.”

He did and she put it in the bag.

“I was an interrogator.”

“Seriously? I mean—don’t get me wrong. I know you’re smart and tough, but?—”

“I scored high on my ASFAB and in the intelligence tests. And I had a gift for languages. I wasn’t involved with anything sketchy like you see in the movies. I vetted female interpreters and sometimes questioned Afghani women who came in with information, and rarely—very rarely—I went to get information with some of my team, connecting with Afghani women who worked as informants.”

“That sounds plenty sketchy. Wow. Do you speak Afghani?”

“You mean Dari? Yes.”

He wore what looked like admiration in his eyes.

“What—you thought I just waited tables?” She smiled.

“Clearly, I’m an idiot. You are . . . surprising, Tillie.”

“Don’t beat yourself up too much. I worked hard to slough off my past, become the Tillie who served you late night chicken.” She shrugged. “I liked that Tillie.”

“I like that Tillie too,” he said quietly.

“I’ll bet you’re thinking, How did she go from top security clearance to on the run in Alaska with kidnapping charges?”

He held up his hands. “No judgment here. We all have stories, but . . . yes.”

“The short of it is that I came home after my first deployment and found that Pearl had run away again. Rigger had moved to Florida, and she’d followed him. I found her living with him. He’d started his MMA career, and she was still using. I asked for a transfer to the base in Tampa and got it, and took her away from Miami and put her in treatment. We were good for a year, and then I got deployed onto a ship for my last year. When I came home, she’d moved back to Miami. He’d married while she was away, and she got jealous. I don’t know. . . .” She sighed. “She just couldn’t see herself as deserving better, I think. Anyway, she was pregnant, and I left active duty and went into the reserves. She was so desperate to be near Rigger that she ran away to Miami and refused to return, so I requested a transfer. They have a reserve base there. And Rigger . . . I don’t know. I was hoping that after the baby came, she’d see what a jerk he was. Unfortunately, for a while, he wasn’t. Maybe he felt guilty, but after the baby came, he started coming around. I’m not sure why—although, seeing how old his kids are now, my guess is that his wife was pregnant with twins then. So yes, a total jerk. But we didn’t know that, and then he asked me if I wanted to earn serious cash.”

She had folded up the takeout bag. Put it in the back. Now she sighed. “I’d gotten in over my head trying to take care of Hazel and Pearl and so I agreed. And I thought I could learn a few things. I did one event and was done.”

“You lost?”

“No, I won, but I . . . I didn’t like it. I wasn’t filled with rage. I was filled with terror. My only goal was to stay alive.”

“Yeah. I’ve seen those bouts. There are some terrifying people in there.”

“Yeah, like Rigger. He was the light heavyweight champion at the time. Billed me as his protégé, so I had to perform. I saw the future, and I tapped out.”

“But you still trained with him.”

“He was furious with me. That’s when I started really seeing the danger. He was getting rough with Pearl, and Hazel too.”

Overhead, a passenger jet took off, rumbling the van.

“I agreed to train for the Iron Maiden to sort of cool him off. But I liked it. It was more than just strength. There was strategy and timing and . . .”

“And you were good at it.”

“I needed to be. We needed the money.”

“Was Pearl using again?”

“No. But Pearl just couldn’t say no to him. So I decided that we needed to get out of Miami, but I needed cash. I started putting away my win money.”

“And then?”

She frowned.

“You said you could destroy him. How?”

Oh, that . She looked away at the headlights from cars slicing through the night.

“Tillie. Did you see him hurt someone?”

She closed her eyes.

“ Kill someone?”

She swallowed, then slowly nodded. “It happened while I was training for the Iron Maiden. I went in late one night, after I got off work, and I walked in on him in the practice ring, fighting a kid. I think he was seventeen years old. They were sparring, but it had gotten out of hand. The kid was tough and angry and, I don’t know—could be that Rigger just wanted to put him in his place, but . . . I walked in right about the time he got him in a rear naked choke hold and . . . Rigger broke his neck.”

Moose groaned, deep inside his chest.

“I saw it. And Rigger knew I’d seen it. And he told me that if I ever told anyone, he’d do the same to me, but . . . I didn’t care. I walked away, and I was going to tell the cops, but then he paid a visit to Pearl.” She reached up and wiped her cheek. She hadn’t realized she’d been crying. “And that’s when it all went south.”

Suddenly, Moose’s warm hand covered hers, held it.

She turned hers over, threaded her fingers through his. Swallowed. “He came over and beat up Pearl and threatened her and . . . that’s when we left.” There, she’d gotten it out.

His jaw tightened. “Did he hurt you?”

She made a face, then, “Yes. I came in during the attack and I just . . . I lost it. I picked up a tire iron and just . . .”

“I remember the tire iron.”

“What?”

“No wonder you attacked me when I came up on you in the parking lot a few months back.”

“Moose, I didn’t?—”

“Hey. Calm down. I get it.”

By the texture of his expression, he did. And that might be worse, because now she was broken, damaged, and crazy in his eyes. . . .

“I really hurt him, I think. And maybe that’s what this is about. He says he wants the money. And Hazel. But I think he just wants to hurt me. Really hurt me.”

“That’s not going to happen.”

His tone cut through her, stiffened her. A fierceness had entered his expression.

“I don’t think you can . . . I mean . . . I did kidnap Hazel. Sorta.”

“You probably saved her life. And Pearl’s.”

Aw . Now her eyes really glazed. “Pearl already had cancer by then. She lived for two more years after we got to Alaska.”

“Why Alaska?”

“That was Roz’s idea. She was a cop I met at the gym. One of Rigger’s gyms, ironically. I didn’t know where to go, what to do, so I went to her house. Pearl and I were both bleeding, and Hazel was hysterical, and Roz wanted us to press charges, but all I could think was that they’d find out that Pearl had been using, and I was afraid they’d put Hazel in foster care . . . and then somehow, Rigger would get her. . . . I don’t know. I just panicked, I guess. Roz always wanted to live in Alaska, so she fixed us up with a guy named Hecktor who made fake passports. I was afraid that Rigger could track us—I don’t know why. So I drove to Alaska. We’ve been hiding ever since. Roz showed up a few months later and became like a grandma to Hazel.”

“No wonder she fought so hard for you two to get away.”

Tillie nodded, her eyes filling. “Yeah, and I guess she’s the one who took the money, too.”

“Really?”

“She put it in a safe deposit box, under my name—my fake name—at a nearby bank. The key is at her house, on the lawnmower chain.”

“Smart.”

“She told me that Pearl had put a phone in there, too. I have a feeling I know what’s on it—and it might be enough to exonerate me. Or at least mitigate the kidnapping charge. But how am I supposed to get into a bank? They have cameras, and by now, I’m sure half of Anchorage is looking for me.”

“Not half of Anchorage, but . . . ” He gave a tight-lipped nod.

For the first time, a spear shot through her, and she caught her breath. He wouldn’t?—

“So we need a place to hide out while we figure this out.”

Aw . Now she really did want to weep. She wiped her cheeks again. “Are you sure, Moose? I mean—I didn’t mean to get you this deep into trouble with me.”

“You think I’m just going to let you drive off into the night without helping you?”

She swallowed. “Um, yes.”

He met her gaze, his steady, almost painful. “Then you don’t know me as well as I thought you did.”

Oh . But, “You’re such a . . . such a great guy. You’re always so calm, and . . . I just never meant to drag you into all this. You don’t deserve it.”

His gaze didn’t waver. “It’s not about deserving. None of us deserve grace. But when we get it, we pass it along. You don’t know me as well as you think, Tillie, and there’s a big part of me that doesn’t want you to. But the fact is, I have my own dark past that makes me understand you more than you think.” He squeezed her hand again. “And someday I’ll tell you about that. But for now . . . let me help you. Because I want to, okay?”

Oh. My . She nodded and wiped her cheeks. “Shoot, I don’t mean to make such a mess of your truck.”

He laughed then, big and thick, and it cascaded over her, drowning out all her thoughts, her worries, and even her fears.

Because clearly this man wasn’t afraid of her past, or her present?—

“Okay, first thing tomorrow, we get that key. We get that money. And then we figure out how to clear you and get Hazel back.”

—or . . . her future.

And suddenly, sitting in the warm car with him, watching the planes roar out into the darkness, listening to country music, the smells of chicken and apple pie seasoning the air, she couldn’t help but taste . . . hope.

She caught her breath.

His gray-green eyes settled on hers, and if there hadn’t been a console between them, she might have found herself with her arms around his neck, holding on.

Clearly it was a good thing the car had bucket seats.

“You okay?”

Not even a little. But she might be, if she held on tight. She nodded.

“Do you trust me, Tillie?”

She looked at his hand in hers, gripping it, warm, solid, and she had nothing but trust for this man.

Or just desperation. But all the same, she nodded. “Yes. Yes, I do.”

“Good. Because I have a plan.”

She cocked her head. “What kind of plan?”

He smiled, and she caught a spark of something almost dangerous in his eyes. “It’s time for Staff Sergeant Tillie Young to show up for duty.”