Chapter 51
CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
LOCH
“Cucumbers or carrots?” I scan the produce, grabbing celery before I turn to Alena.
She’s leaning on our grocery cart, eyes on her phone, her cute, freckled nose wrinkled and worried. “Dad won’t answer my calls. Only my texts.”
It’s been a week since all hell broke loose about Sasha being my twin before it turned around and hit everyone with Axel and Alena’s one time.
I’d get a dozen ulcers, but I’m too busy.
And I’d call Nash, but he left somberly that day. Didn’t speak to Axel. Didn’t speak to anyone. He took The Queen’s orders and left with Vale.
“He’s mad, and he’ll heal. We all do.” I toss the celery into our cart and hook my finger under Alena’s chin, so damn in love with her. “And I was fucking proud of you. And…”—I grin—“if you don’t tell me what you want on our salad, I’ll make us give a show for our fans with a cucumber tonight.”
She beams, suddenly cheered. “Don’t tempt me with a kinky time.”
I smirk. “Olive oil is on aisle four.”
She coos, “Whipped topping is in the dairy section.”
My dick roars to life. I lick my lips. “Bet HarrySmiles would love to watch you toss my salad and—”
“Uh… hey, you two.”
I turn to see our boss, nervously shuffling three feet away.
Yep, he heard that.
Alena blushes. “Hey, Paul. We were just, uh—”
“Dad!” Paul’s daughter runs over, oblivious to our mortification. “Emma got mint chocolate chip, but you said it was my turn to pick the ice cream.”
“Just a minute, Paige.” He resists his daughter, yanking his hand toward the crisis, asking us, “You two, uh… home for a while? No more trips? Think you’ve used all your PTO.”
“Yeah.” Alena straightens. “Think we’ll save the rest for our wedding in May. For sure this time.”
But something odd twists Paul’s face. He’s always struck me as a family man. A good man, but… “Yeah, sure,” he doubts darkly. “May? Looking forward to it.” He raises his free hand. “Well, have a good night. Sounds like you will.”
He lets his daughter lead him away, but an eerie feeling remains.
“That was weird,” I mumble to Alena.
“Uh, yeah.” She grimaces. “He just busted LuvPounder and DirtTGirl making plans to toss our salads.”
“No, I mean, remember when you said you told Paul about Sasha? You followed the chain of command and trusted he’d tell the rest of the station?”
“Yeah.”
“You ever wonder why he didn’t?”
Her brows pinch. “I figured he forgot. He had a lot on his plate with the last hurricane and—” Her shoulders sag. “Shit. Oh fuck, you don’t think he’s crooked, do you?”
I glance up and see Paul with his daughters, headed to the register. “No, but I know when you love someone, you can be compromised.”
That night, I invite Wilder and Remi down to our cabin. We meet outside.
Yeah, it’s like summoning demons to dinner, but they’re dark souls I can trust.
I don’t protect Alena from my suspicions either. I’ve learned the hard way that that’s not love; it’s a liability.
“So, you think the head ranger is shady?” Remi leans against his Harley, his tatted arms crossed. “He’s sold out to Sheremetev?”
“I think something’s sideways, yeah.”
“Think of it, y’all,” Alena adds. “Paul has daughters to protect, and Sheremetev is a father’s worst nightmare; we know.”
Wilder chews a toothpick. “So, we liquidate him?”
Alena twists her face. “Don’t y’all run a famous brewery?”
“Yeah.” He grins.
“Eww.” Alena’s disgusted.
But Wilder scoffs, offended. “Darlin’, I don’t mix brews and bodies. That’s a waste of good beer.”
“Shut up,” Remi mutters.
“Just watch him.” I take over. “Watch Paul, and maybe we’ll catch Sheremetev poking around.”
“Speakin’ of pokin’.” Wilder twirls his toothpick. “When are LuvPounder and DirtTGirl posting something new?”
Remi rolls his eyes, swinging his leg over his saddle. “Goddamn, I can’t take you anywhere.”
“What?” Wilder throws his hands up. “They’re famous as fuck for fucking.”
I glance at Alena, but she’s not blushing with shame. “So, you’re a fan?” No, she’s smiling, proud.
“Darlin’”—he mounts his bike—“with the way you two experiment? I sure ain’t your only fan.”
Remi rumbles away. Wilder follows, after blowing Alena a kiss. I’d shoot him for it, but he’d only tattoo the scar with a smiley face.
“Yeah, so”—I turn to Alena—“about our guests that night at the club.”
She laughs, swishing toward our cabin. “Don’t tell me. It’s hotter that way.”
Alena and I may be hot online and in bed, but the next day, it’s biting cold. Gusts lash the mountains, rattling our windows. The alert on our radio awakens us with a severe wind advisory.
Quickly, we get dressed. Alena scrambles eggs for our breakfast while I pack our lunches.
Maybe it’s the change in barometric pressure. Maybe it’s my paranoia. But I insist, “You ride with me today,” while I toss a sandwich into her backpack.
“You know we can’t.” She takes my empty plate and my kiss on the cheek. “It’ll be all hands on deck. Last year, one of these windstorms flipped a truck and backed up roads for miles.”
“Don’t care. I have a feeling.”
“You always have a feeling.”
“Alena, I’m serious.”
“Loch.” She reaches for me, cupping my face. “I seriously love you, and I’ll be fine.” She puckers for a kiss. I give it before she mutters over our lips, “Besides, this is my park. I know how to find my way home to you.”
Dispatch cracks over our radios. We listen to the report—a fallen tree in the park has struck two cars. It caused one to careen off the road, down the riverbank. The other is trapped under the massive oak. Three are critically injured, and two are trapped.
“See?” Alena grabs her backpack. “We gotta go.”
Jumping into my truck, we race to the ranger station. There, multiple agencies are rushing to the scene.
She turns to take a Forest Service SUV, but I grab her hand and pull her back. “Hey. I love you.”
“Love you too. Be careful today.” She gives me a rushed kiss before jumping into her SUV and speeding away.
I aim to follow her, but dispatch sends her to the accident scene, while I’m sent to a campground with an RV, toppled by the wind.
It’s hours of havoc until I get a chance to call her. She doesn’t pick up. Not unusual when we’re busy. So, I text and wait an hour for her reply.
Nothing.
Speeding back to the station, I see another ranger who was working the accident.
“Hey, Morris!” I call out across the parking lot. “Where’s Allen?”
He shrugs. “Last I saw, she was on the riverbank, helping with extrication.”
“How long ago?”
“’Bout two hours.”
Fuck orders. I drive to the accident site. Choppers had to land for emergency transport. Multiple agencies had to investigate. Crews are everywhere cleaning up.
“Hey.” I grab a firefighter’s arm. “Have you seen Allen?”
He knows her. He’s on the swift water team with us. “Earlier.” He glances around. “But, nah, man. Guess she’s gone.”
My pulse triples as I search the crews. Police. EMTs. Firefighters. Officials. News. Trucks, cars, and vans are everywhere. It’s chaos and the perfect cover as it hits me…
All instinct.
No proof.
Alena is… gone.