Chapter 13

CHAPTER 13

T he snowmobilers had made the disastrous mistake of splitting up.

Shep sat in the bed of the Air One chopper, the night falling around them, the belly lights illuminating the white forested earth as he scanned for a man hiking the remote snow trail.

“Any sign of him?” Moose, through Shep’s headphones.

“Just a bunch of caribou,” he said. Their dark brown bodies spotted a field they’d passed. With caribou, there had to be wolves, and a guy walking alone in the Alaskan forest had about as much chance against them as . . .

Well, as Shep had of trying to shake London out of his heart.

Yeah, bad analogy, but frankly, he had London on the brain, so everything in the past five days since returning from Montelena had been about her. About being without her, about walking away from her, about finding footing in a life without her.

About his stupidity.

“He shouldn’t have left her,” he said now of the man, Willis James, who’d abandoned his wife and their ten-year-old son on the trail after a snowmobile crash that had broken the woman’s leg and left both machines tangled.

They’d gotten the call from Winter Starr, a bush pilot who’d flown overhead earlier today and spotted the red jackets of the woman and her son. When they’d waved at her, she’d searched for a put-down place. When she couldn’t find one, she’d done the next best thing.

Called Air One Rescue.

Shep had been dressed and out the door before Moose ended the call, five days of hanging out in his condo turning him antsy. He’d even tried to call his parents again. He could use words from his father, but again, the call went to voicemail. Figured. They were probably out on a slope somewhere.

He taught Caspian a few new tricks. He liked the dog, and after a call to the shelter, where they confirmed that the owner hadn’t responded, he’d decided to keep him. Jasmine had done a decent job of taking care of him while Shep was gone. Apparently wanted to make that known to Shep, too, once he returned. He had a veritable smorgasbord of food in his fridge, each day a new offering.

Maybe he shouldn’t have taken the listing down. But . . . he wasn’t going to run. He had built a life here. Even without London.

Still, the place felt almost emptier than before, when he’d thought her gone forever.

Shep had driven into the Tooth almost on autopilot, and Moose took the crew out in the chopper—Boo, Shep, Axel. They found the mother and son shivering and nearly hypothermic in a partial snow cave that Shep had to admit wasn’t a terrible construction. Better to have closed it off from the elements, but he made no criticism as Boo and Axel went down on a line, splinted the leg of the woman, then brought them both up in baskets.

Moose had flown them to the Copper Mountain clinic, then returned to search the trail for the husband.

Now, as twilight pressed in, shadows lengthening from the purple mountains in the north and west, the ground turning hazy, the chances of finding him before bingo on Moose’s gas tanks . . .

And tonight’s temps would drop to lethal below-zero digits.

“Put me on the ground, Moose. I have snowshoes—let me at least see if I can track him.”

Moose said nothing.

“We can’t even see footprints from up here. It hasn’t snowed in the last twenty-four hours—if he went this way, I’ll be able to see it. Besides, the trail diverges up ahead—maybe he took the other path.”

“Fine. Sit tight—let me find a place to land.”

Shep glanced at Axel, who wore a red jumpsuit, earphones. Not dressed for weather but for going out the door on a line, bringing up victims. Shep was the one who manned the open door, buffeted by the high winds, and he’d donned an extra jacket, a wool hat, and thermals under his jumpsuit. Besides . . . snow was his element.

As Moose found a wide space, Shep reached for his snowshoes, then clipped them on. Grabbed a headlamp, took off his helmet and fitted it over his hat, then took a handheld walkie and clipped it to the collar of his jacket.

“Do not get lost,” Axel said as he opened the door.

“I’ll turn on my GPS,” Shep said as he landed in the snow. Here, a snowmobile trail had packed down the white into tiny ridges, and he ventured out from the chopper’s ring of light, following the glow of his headlamp.

“Do not get lost.” He was in a perpetual state of lost, it seemed like. Or maybe two pieces of him were going in different directions.

Focus . London had made her choice. And he’d made his. He’d have to get his brain around that.

Now, he walked a hundred yards up the trail, scanning the ground for footprints. His feet crunched in the snow, and the farther away he got from the glow of the chopper, the darker the world became, just his tiny light illuminating his next steps.

Weirdly, his father’s voice entered his head. “Thy word is a lamp unto my feet, and a light unto my path.”

Around him, the wind lifted, and in the distance lingered the mourning howl of wolves.

“I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness, but will have the light of life.”

“The Lord is my light and my salvation—whom shall I fear?”

There —he keyed his mic. “I see footsteps off the main path—looks like he followed a trail.” Shep headed toward the path, a swath through the forest. And then saw why?—

Ahead, in the darkness, a light flickered, a fire maybe, the glow scattering against tree trunks and into the night, winking out as it hit the clouds.

“I see a campfire. Maybe he hunkered down for the night.” Not a bad idea, although if he’d had the means to camp, he would have stayed with his family.

Unless . . .

He followed the ebbing and glowing light, the darkness thickening behind him as his headlamp parted the forest. The smells of campfire burned into the breeze, and as he came up to it, he spotted a man crouched in front of another man, seated on the ground. A pack sat in the snow nearby.

The first man, dressed in a heavy winter coat, wearing a furry shapka, the flaps tied up on his head, held a Sierra cup, helping the second man drink it. The other man, wearing a red jacket, had lost his hat, his hair tipped with snow, his ears nearly white.

Willis James, his lost snowmobiler?

Fur man looked up at Shep. Nodded. “I was wondering when you’d get here.”

What?

“I heard the chopper. I figured you were hunting our lost hiker here.”

“I’m with Alaska Air One.” He looked at the man on the ground, who was still struggling to drink. “Are you Willis James?”

The man looked up and dropped the cup. “My wife?—”

“We have her. And your son.”

Willis covered his face with his hands, shaking.

The man in the fur hat stood up. “I found him on the trail just up the way. He’d collapsed. I had to carry him to my camp—” He stepped forward, held out a mittened hand. “Judah.”

Shep took it. “Shep.”

Judah’s long dark hair fell from the back of his hat, and he was tanned, as if he spent time out in the wild.

“What are you doing out here?” Shep asked Judah as he crouched next to Willis.

“Visiting a friend. He’s got a cabin about a mile from here. I was walking on the trail when I spotted Willis here.”

Only then did Shep see a pair of snowshoes parked on the ground near the fire.

“Always carry a Sierra cup and some flint with me,” Judah said and winked. “Boy Scouts.”

Of course, London stepped into his brain. He shook her away. “Good thing you happened along.”

“God’s path always takes you in the right direction.”

Shep frowned, then stood up and radioed Moose.

“I’ll send Axel your way with a litter,” said Moose.

Meanwhile, Judah had put another log on the small campfire he’d built. It glowed in the darkness, the howl of the wolves still lifting in the breeze. “We can give you a ride back to your cabin,” Shep said.

“Then I’d miss the beauty of the starry night,” Judah said. “It’s in the extreme darkness that the light shines the brightest.”

Judah and his old man would make good friends. “And you’re not afraid of getting lost?”

“You’re only lost when you think you have a destination.”

Oh boy. “Of course.”

“My destination is simply to follow.” He pointed to the sky, the swath of Milky Way. “There is enough light from the heavens to get me home.”

Huh. Still, “I can’t, in good conscience, leave you out here to freeze.”

In the distance, he heard Axel’s voice calling.

“Over here!” He turned back to Judah. “It’s not safe.”

“Safe is not a destination, Shep. It’s a perspective. An understanding.” He crouched in front of Willis, grabbed the Sierra cup. “Even when the world seems to be unraveling around you.”

“Yeah, you can’t think yourself safe there, pal.”

Judah poured more hot water into the Sierra cup after adding another packet of cocoa. Now he handed it to Willis. “Drink. You’ll be okay.” Then he stood up. “Safety is about faith. Knowing that even if something goes terribly wrong, God still has you.”

It was like talking to his old man.

“But you have to have faith. Without it, you can do everything right and still end up lost, right, Willis?”

The man looked up at him, holding his cup with both hands. They needed to get him to warmth, pronto. “I’m sorry. I just can’t leave you out here.”

“Because that is who you are.” Judah had started to kick snow onto the fire. It sizzled in the flames. “You’re a rescuer. That is your calling. Your mission.”

The words settled inside him. “Are you still on mission?”

Axel came through the path, dragging the litter behind him like a sled. “Hey-ho.” He frowned at the sight of Judah. “Who are you?”

“Judah. Lion,” said the man, who held out his mittened hand to Axel. “Just a traveler. Let me help you get Willis into the basket.”

Shep and Axel tucked Willis in—the man had gone dangerously quiet—and they packed him with a blanket, put a hat on him.

The fire had nearly died out, leaving just glowing embers.

“I’m going to say it one more time,” Shep said, taking the other side of the sled handle. “Let us bring you home. Last chance.”

“Not all those who wander are lost,” said Judah. He winked. “Love that book. Take care of my friend Willis.” He picked up a pack, shouldered it on, and headed out into the darkness, up the trail.

“Is he okay?” Axel said as he took the handle of the sled. “And what book?”

“ Lord of the Rings . J. R. R. Tolkien. He wrote it about Aragorn, the ranger who roams Middle Earth. He wanders but is not lost because he knows his mission and his purpose. And follows it without being double-minded.”

Axel pulled with him. “Double-minded?”

“Something my father used to say. Constantly being tossed by regrets or what-ifs . . .” Shep looked back. It seemed that the darkness and the forest had simply swallowed Judah.

They came out onto the path, the chopper’s light pressing against the darkness, like a beacon. Willis roused, and only when they pulled up to the chopper did Shep realize that the man had started to weep. Again.

“It’s okay, man,” Shep said. “You’re safe.” He and Axel loaded Willis in, then he climbed in beside him as Boo took his vitals. Shep bundled him up more as Axel closed the door and Moose kicked up the rotors.

The man reached out, grabbed Shep’s hand, his grip tight. “Thank you for not giving up.”

Shep froze. Then nodded.

He sat back in the seat, donning his headphones as the chopper lifted off the ground into the night. I give up.

Aw. The words were a knife right into his chest.

“Are you still on mission?”

Oh no . He closed his eyes. Stop .

“Trust in the Lord with all your heart, do not depend on your own understanding. Seek his will in all you do, and he will show you which path to take.”

Still his father, in his head. But maybe that was the one thing he’d forgotten in all this. He’d been trying to sort it all out with his own understanding, his own ways.

Below them, the forest had turned dark save for one small light, a cabin on a hill, not far from the trail.

“Are you still on mission?”

Fine. Yes. Because the one calling, the one path that felt right despite the route, had always been London.

Still was London.

And maybe—well, he was a rescuer. Her rescuer. “You like rescuing me ? —”

He did. He loved being the guy who made her smile, but it wasn’t just about him swooping in to save her from Tomas—it was the way she laughed at his jokes and kept up with him when they were working out and even argued with him over a movie plot.

It was the way she made him believe that he was her hero.

Even though she was clearly able to take care of herself.

So yes. He did like rescuing her. Because somehow, in letting him, she rescued him right back. Made him into a man he wanted to be.

The kind of man who showed up.

And kept showing up.

He looked at Axel, and then, through the mic, said, “So, you still in the market for a condo?”

* * *

“You’re missing Alaska.”

London looked over from where she sat at a small bistro table, nursing a macchiato and reading a book. She put it face down on the table and looked up.

Oh . Prince Luka was attached to that male voice. She sat up, about to rise and curtsy, but he held out his hand. “We’re in public, and this isn’t a formal event, and all that is optional anyway until I’m crowned. But may I?” He gestured to the chair opposite her.

She nodded.

He picked up the book as he sat down. “ The Call of the Wild .”

“Recommended by a friend.”

“Jack London. As I recall, it’s about a dog and the people he saves.”

“The dog is very loyal.”

“Buck.” He set the book down. “Ends up joining a wolf pack. You can take the dog out of the wild but not the wild from the dog.”

“Or maybe he just made a choice. And thanks—now I don’t need to finish it.”

Prince Luka leaned back in the chair, crossed one leg over the other, folded his arms. He wore a simple white pullover sweater, dress pants. “No. Finish it. The journey—not the ending—is the point of the story. It’s how the characters change and grow and become, right?” He winked.

Admittedly, he was a very handsome man. Dark hair that curled just slightly at his ears, tousled perfectly, and blue eyes that twinkled with charm. He bore a military frame, sturdy and lean, and she knew he’d served in some command position. Maybe search and rescue, which of course sounded right. After all, he was a prince. He even smelled good.

No wonder her mother hoped to throw her at him.

“I guess.” She picked up the book and stuck her napkin into it as a page marker. “Maybe I’m just tired of the journey.”

“You’re not even halfway through the book.”

She set the book down. “Do you ever get tired of being the prince?”

Silence. She looked up at him.

He seemed to be thinking through her words, gazing out to the mountains, to the castle on the ridge. Snow had fallen steadily for the last few days, finally sticking to the ground, turning the world, the city, white and sparkling.

“It’s who I am. So while fatigue comes from the demands, the expectations, I can’t change that.”

Right. “What if you had a choice, though? To walk away. To be . . . common.”

He laughed. “No one is common, Delaney. Each of us is royal. At least, if you are a believer in God’s Word and a child of salvation. By His Word, we’re all children of the King. Some of us just wear the crown on earth.”

Right .

“Is this about the job offer?”

A beat. “How did you know about that?”

“I was the one who suggested it.” He leaned forward. “You speak three languages, you know protocol, and frankly, you’d be a great asset to the office of the ambassador. Plus, you could travel with my envoy.” His smile warmed in her direction. “Perhaps, in time . . .”

Oh. “Prince Luka?—”

“Just Luka.”

“I don’t . . . I’m not . . .” She sighed. “I am not sure what I want.”

“I see.”

A waitress came over, curtsied, and then set his tea in front of him.

“Apparently she didn’t get the memo,” London said as he thanked her.

“If she wants to curtsy, then I respect that,” he said. “Respect is different than require, right?” He took a sip of the tea, set the cup back down. “I never want my countrymen to respect me out of fear but out of trust.”

No wonder he was beloved.

“So you’ll be turning down the offer?”

The look on his face could almost make a woman reconsider. But she just hadn’t . . . it didn’t feel . . .

“I suppose that makes sense. To be honest, I was surprised, during the weekly meeting with your mother, to hear that you were still here.”

Of course he had a weekly meeting with her mother.

“I had heard that your friends left—and I thought you’d left with them.”

“No. It seems as though my life in Alaska is . . . well, maybe I’m headed in a different direction.”

“Hmm.” He stirred his tea, then fished out the bag. “Indeed, I can almost see the Alaskan landscape in your expression.”

No, he could see Shep in her expression, the longing for him, his devastating smile, his strong hands in hers, the sense that he was always there, behind her, beside her, in front of her. Her best friend.

Everything inside her simply ached.

Luka took a sip of tea, set it back in the saucer. “It’s wild and untamed, correct?”

Oh, still talking about Alaska, because she’d hardly call Shep untamed.

Although, he’d kissed her a little like that . . . twice.

Two perfect, unleashed moments when she thought she’d tasted his heart. Her eyes burned, but she blinked and turned to Luka. “Yes, but no. It’s . . . beautiful and big and rugged, and yes, it can be dangerous, but also . . . it’s a place to restart your life . . . maybe find yourself.”

He considered her. “You were flying search and rescue, correct? On some team?”

“Did my mother tell you that?”

“I believe it was your friend Shep.”

She frowned. “I don’t—when?—”

“He made quite a ruckus at the castle during our gala. I think your mother is still trying to sort it all out with my mother.”

Her mouth opened. “You . . . what? What do you know about that?”

He frowned. “My father may be the sovereign, but he’s delegated management of Cryptex to me. So yes, I am aware of his attempted breach of our complex.”

His attempted breach . “Shep?”

“Oh.” He grimaced. “I’ve let the cat out of the bag, haven’t I?”

“What cat? What bag?”

“So the fact is, I saw your friend Shep that night, after you disappeared.”

Correction— after I was kidnapped . But she didn’t say that. Who knew how much?—

“He told me you were abducted by some bad players. The Russian Bratva? You had me quite worried, but he said he and his team would find you. That’s when I realized that your friend . . . well, I don’t know how to tell you this, Delaney, but I believe your friend Shep is a spy.”

Oh . She managed to keep her face unmarked by the revelation.

“Let’s just say that he told me he had a plan to upload a virus into your Cryptex account. I think he feared that he’d gotten you somehow caught up in his clandestine game.”

Right. He probably had to say something about the blackout and the sirens, so . . . And the best way to lie was to tell the truth, right? “I see.”

“I spoke to him briefly during the panic, after the lights were restored. It was then that he mentioned that you might have been abducted. Later, he found me—he said you’d been taken into the mountains and they were going to find you. And then he told me the entire story, about how the Bratva wanted to steal your money and was coercing you to give it to them.”

“He told you that?”

“Said that he was trying to stop an international terrorist plot and that he’d developed a virus that could track the money if they stole it from you. He gave me a drive and told me to upload it and attach it to your account, in case it got accessed. I had my people look at it—and confirmed it was a tracker. It could follow the Cryptex NFT throughout the blockchain. So I had them upload it and attach it to your account.”

She just stared at him.

“I know. I hate to be the one to tell you this. People are not always what they seem.”

Oh, that was just it. Shep was exactly what he seemed.

Her hero. For as long as she could remember.

“So, did they get it?” he asked.

She frowned.

“The money. Did they get into your Cryptex wallet?”

She sighed. “Yes. The money is gone. It was moved?—”

“Which means it can be tracked.”

And just like that . . . with his words, it was over.

Her orders changed. Or maybe she was simply released from duty. Sure, she heard her father’s words from just a few days ago, the ones that seemed pinned to her soul— “You are who you are, Laney. And you can’t change that” —and maybe he was right. She couldn’t change it. But she could be more than that.

The journey was the point. As was the changing and growing and becoming.

She sat, looking at Luka as he sipped his tea, and heard her mother’s words from days ago. “I want you to be happy. To find a man who sets your heart on fire. With whom every day is a new adventure. And who makes you feel adored. Like a princess.”

A man like Shep.

“Have you ever heard of a black swan, Luka?”

He set down his cup. “Yes. It’s an unexpected event. Something completely out of the ordinary that has great impact. But also something that should be obvious to everyone in hindsight. Like your 9/11 attacks.”

“Indeed.”

“Or I suppose your sudden desire to return to Alaska?” He smiled then and raised a regal eyebrow.

She smiled back. “Did you mean it when you said you’d do anything in your power for me?”

“As if you were a princess. However, I do think you’re about to break my heart.”

She bowed her head, then met his eyes. “How do you feel about lending me a plane?”

* * *

How Moose loved it when everyone came home safely.

Moose walked across the tarmac to the Tooth after moving the chopper into the Air One Rescue Quonset hut, the memory of the James family’s reunion at the Anchorage hospital still warm in his mind.

Yes, this was how it was supposed to turn out—happy endings. No more lawsuit. And Shep seemed better as he talked with Axel at the hospital. Something about Axel and Shep’s new dog and his condo?—

Maybe Shep would be okay. And Boo and Oaken seemed on their way to the altar, and . . . and maybe he should just stop worrying about everything.

Start savoring the fact that every day, God carried him through the valley to the next mountain.

Moose walked inside, and everything seemed brighter when he spotted Tillie. She wore her jacket, her beautiful black hair pulled back, boots, and a smile that went right to his soul.

Yes, he loved it when everyone came home safely.

She was hugging Boo, then showing her the ring as the door closed behind him.

“Moose. You didn’t say anything,” Shep said, walking over to him. He grabbed Moose’s hand, slapped him on the arm.

“I was waiting until we got the ring sized,” Moose said.

“I just picked it up,” Tillie said, coming over to him. She put her arms around his neck and then, in front of everyone, kissed him.

Oh. Well, then .

Just a short kiss, but that was enough right here, right now. “Can we get married tomorrow?”

She laughed, patted his cheek. “Absolutely.”

He held her in the circle of his arms. “I was thinking maybe . . . a party? At my place? Tonight.” Despite the pitch darkness outside, the night was still early, plenty of time for steaks on the grill.

“There’s a Blue Ox hockey game on tonight,” said Axel. “I recorded it.”

“I need to run home and check on my dog,” Shep said. “But if I can bring Caspian, then cool.”

“Aw, too bad Hazel isn’t here.” Tillie said. “She loves dogs.” She put her hands on Moose’s chest. “I dropped Hazel off at Roz’s. She never gets to see her anymore, what with my not needing Roz to babysit. How about if I pick up a pie?”

“I need to go home, shower, and change,” Boo said. “I’ll ask Oaken to pick me up. We’ll meet you there.”

“I can drive you,” Tillie said. She looked at Axel. “Thanks for the use of your wheels.”

“No problem, Til.”

“I’ll get my gear,” Boo said and went into the locker room.

Axel and Shep followed her, and Moose stood out in the foyer with Tillie. Pulled her back to himself and lowered his voice. “I wasn’t kidding about tomorrow.”

She put her hands on his chest, running them over his jumpsuit. “Give a girl a few days to find a dress.”

“You could get married in a burlap bag for all I care.” He kissed her again, this time slower, savoring her, drinking in the mystery of how suddenly the world seemed right and perfect, untouchable.

Boo came out of the locker room. “Whoops?—”

Tillie untangled herself from his embrace, laughing.

Laughing.

He could live forever in that laugh. Rare and beautiful. It wrapped around him and sent heat through him to his bones.

“C’mon,” Boo said, heading toward the door.

“See you at the house,” he said as they left.

Shep came out next, also holding his gear. “I’ll be there in an hour or so.”

“Perfect. I’ll get the steaks seasoned up.”

Shep left and Axel came out. “I called Flynn. She’s just finishing up her shift. Said she’d connect with Tillie and ride with them.” He clamped his hand on Moose’s shoulder. “We’ll call this an engagement party.”

“I can live with that,” Moose said. He went into the locker room, changed out of his jumpsuit. Came out to see Axel texting. “What’s up?”

“Flynn said that Dawson called her—has news about Tillie’s house fire.” He pocketed the phone. “Said she’d talk to us when she got there.” He picked up his bag. “Let’s go.”

They were walking out of the Tooth when a Porsche Cayenne pulled up. The window slid down.

“Hey, Oak,” Axel said. “Nice wheels.”

“Thought I’d need something sturdy for Alaska.”

“Couldn’t have gone with a Ford?” Axel said. “Just sayin’.”

“Leave the rock star alone,” Moose said.

Oaken smiled, shook his head. “I was coming to meet Boo, but she texted to say we’re meeting at your place?”

“Engagement party,” said Axel.

“About time,” Oaken said. He stuck his hand out the window, grabbed Moose’s in a handshake.

So maybe it hadn’t been a terrible idea to say yes to the reality show last fall. Yes, it had had some serious ripple effects—like Tillie’s ex tracking her down, and maybe London’s past also finding her. But it had also given Boo a future, and they’d tracked down a serial killer, and Axel had miraculously found someone who could put up with him. Okay, that wasn’t fair—Axel was a catch. He just needed the right person.

They all did.

“I’ll follow you to the house,” Oaken said.

Moose headed over to his truck and threw his bag in the back. Axel had gotten into the passenger seat. The lights of the city shone upon wet pavement, a slight wind off Cook Inlet sprinkling snow like fairy dust into the air.

“I think Shep might be leaving us,” Axel said quietly as they drove up the highway. “He offered to sell me his condo.”

Moose looked at him. “Really? I thought he’d taken it off the market.”

Axel lifted a shoulder. “I don’t know. He seemed pretty jazzed about it, so maybe he’s headed back to Montelena?”

“He’s been in love with London for years, I think. I don’t know why I didn’t see it before, but yeah, once you find the one . . . well, if I were him, I would do anything to be with the woman I loved.”

“Even give up Air One?”

Moose looked at Axel. Frowned. “What are you saying?”

Silence.

They turned off the highway onto Moose’s road.

“Are you thinking of leaving too?” The question sat in Moose’s gut.

“What? No. Just thinking about how life can turn, just like that. And what you do when it does.”

“I think you stand on what you know. Circumstances and even life plans aren’t your foundation, right? God is,” Moose said. “So I guess, yes, I’d give up Air One if I had to. But I think Tillie is happy in Anchorage, so . . .”

They’d turned down Moose’s driveway, dark, the trees hovering overhead. It occurred to him as they drew closer to the house that the motion lights hadn’t flicked on. Maybe a fuse was out.

He pulled up, Oaken’s headlights behind him, and then Oaken pulled up next to him. The house sat in darkness, the front porch light off.

“The power out?” Oaken said as he got out. He’d turned his cell phone light on.

“Guess so. Happens sometimes after a storm.” Moose grabbed his gear. “I’ll check on the fuses in the garage before the ladies get here.”

He walked up the front steps, pressed the key code for the door, and let himself in, followed by Axel and Oaken.

He missed Hazel’s cheery voice greeting him when he walked in the door. Tomorrow wouldn’t be soon enough.

He tried the light. Nothing. Weird . “The house is off too.”

“Where’s the fuse box?” Oaken said. “I’ll take a look.”

“It’s in the basement. I’ll go,” Moose said. He dropped his gear, pulled off his boots, and hung his coat, and the guys did the same.

Axel followed him downstairs to his domain.

He could have flicked on his cell phone, but Moose let his memory lead him through the dark basement. Just the moonlight off the river, shining into his sliding-glass-door walkout, gave him light into the theater room with the flatscreen and big sectional. Axel grabbed his cell phone and flicked on his flashlight as they walked into the room with the hot tub and sauna attached. Moose had thought he knew this place inside and out until London had sneaked in through said sauna over a week ago via Pike’s secret lair.

He’d have to board that up. Now, he went to the electrical panel in a nook next to the sauna and opened it. Shone his cell phone flashlight on it.

The main breaker had blown. He turned it back on, and lights flushed through the entertainment area. “You left the light on when you left for the callout,” he said to Axel.

“Add it to my tab.”

The television also flicked on in the entertainment area. Moose gave him a look as he turned.

And stopped.

“Just slow your roll there, Moose,” said Harry Benton, standing with a small Glock pointed at Axel, who now raised his hands.

Harry wore an army-green jacket, boots, and carried a backpack.

And behind him, another man. Right —Liam Grant. He held a shotgun, trained on Moose.

Moose drew in a breath. He wasn’t close enough to grab either gun—not that he knew how he would do that—but the impulse shot through him along with the punch of shock.

He raised his hands. “Listen, guys?—”

“Shut up,” Harry said. Not a big guy, really, but the man was burly enough to suggest he wasn’t someone that would go down easily. And behind him, Liam looked a little unhinged. From the snow on their jeans, it looked like they’d trekked here from the woods.

Except, how had they ?—

Oh. His thoughts went back to Hazel, seeing someone on the deck. And how he’d stepped out to see and then gone back inside—and had he locked the door?

Maybe. But it had been days since then and . . .

Maybe it didn’t matter how they’d gotten in. Just, “What do you want?”

Harry motioned for them all to move into the theater room. Liam backed up, his gun following them.

These guys had probably thought this out while he’d been off flying around Europe.

A chill went through him at how he’d left Tillie and Hazel here alone.

“Get on your knees,” Harry said.

Moose didn’t move.

“Hey, Moose, the lights came on upstairs, so?—”

Oaken came down the stairs, hit the landing, and before Moose could shout, a shot exploded, ricocheting through the house.

Oaken jerked back, shouted, then fell the final few steps.

“Hey! Stop!” Moose said.

“Don’t move!” Liam, now turning back to Moose.

Definitely unhinged .

Oaken had gotten up, now backpedaled to the wall, blood spurting out of a shoulder wound, running down his arm. A groan pulsed out of him. “You shot me! Why’d you shoot me?”

Moose glanced at Liam. Maybe the idiot had shot Oaken by accident, a reflex, but now his gaze hardened, and he narrowed his eyes.

“Because you deserve to die.” The cool voice of Harry Benton, taking over.

A frozen silence slithered through Moose, and maybe Axel too, because he drew in a breath.

Oh . No.

Oaken’s gaze hardened into recognition. “Benton.”

“Get him over here,” Benton said to Axel, and motioned with his handgun. Axel helped Oaken over to the main area, in front of the sofa.

“Now get on your faces.”

Aw. Moose didn’t move. “C’mon, Benton. You want me, not the team. It was my fault we didn’t go back out. My call?—”

Benton turned his gun to Axel.

“Okay, okay . . .” Moose lay down, his face into his carpet, fighting off words.

“Tie him up,” said Benton to Axel, and tossed him the backpack.

Axel pulled a zip tie from the bag. Swallowed.

Benton turned his gun on Moose.

“Just take a breath there, Benton. I gotta figure out how to work these.” Axel stepped over Moose. “Sorry.”

Moose looked at him, his jaw tight. Met his eyes.

Axel nodded.

Another shot—and this time, the television shattered over them, careening off the wall. Axel caught it a second before it landed on Moose, and pushed it away.

“Next one goes into your brother,” said Benton, and Axel held up his hands in surrender.

Moose let Axel bind him.

“Tighter,” said Benton.

Yeah, that worked. The tighter the better.

“And his feet.”

Axel tied Moose’s feet.

“Now the movie star.”

Moose closed his eyes, listening to Oaken grunt. He lay on the floor, also face down, bleeding into the carpet.

Liam came over and put the end of his shotgun against Moose’s head.

“Now you, hotshot,” said Benton.

Axel landed on the floor next to Moose, his forehead into the carpet, a muscle pulling in his jaw.

From somewhere, Moose’s cell phone buzzed, and he realized he’d dropped it near the sauna.

Liam went to get it, came out with it still ringing. “It’s someone named Hot Hot Babydoll.”

Axel looked at Moose. “Really?”

“She typed in her own name,” he said with a growl.

“Decline the call. She’ll worry.” Benton crouched in front of him. “Then text her and tell her that he’s tied up but to hurry. Then go upstairs and pull the gas line from the stove. We want everything to be ready when they get here.”

Moose froze. “You burned down Tillie’s house.”

“You should thank me. She and her cute daughter moved in here to play house. Your happy little family.” Benton stepped back. “I told you someday you’d know how it felt to lose someone. How about your entire team?” He took another step back. “Now you’ll know how it feels to wait, knowing every minute brings you closer to the death of the people you care about.”

Moose swallowed. Closed his eyes. Thank God Hazel wasn’t here.

But he lay there, and all he could think was . . .

Please, Tillie, don’t come home.