Chapter 1 #3
Kennedy’s husband, Sully, worked as a bush guide in the area, the Bowie outpost was not terribly far from her place, as the crow flew. And the town of Copper Mountain wasn’t so big that she hadn’t heard about Kennedy’s nearly lethal ectopic pregnancy a few weeks ago.
“Checkup. Sully wants to head back out to the outpost, but . . .” She lifted a shoulder, her gaze a little haunted. “I need more time.”
More time before she trekked out into the remote bush with a husband who often took off for days? Yeah, Stormi got that. “I could always use help at the clinic,” she said. “You know, feeding the animals, assisting with general care.”
But Kennedy had turned, her gaze on the ER. On the baby.
Oh, right.
Kennedy sighed then, turned back to Stormi. “How’s it going? You still traveling back and forth from Anchorage?”
“They found a replacement, so I’m here full-time now.” She glanced at her phone. Rome was still moving.
Silence. She looked up at Kennedy, who gave her a soft smile. “You’re out there all by yourself. At least Anuk had her husband. You sure that’s a good idea?”
Not even a little, but that was Stormi—jump first, look later. “I’ll be fine. I need to get going.”
Kennedy nodded, then turned back to the ER, watching, the expression on her face twisting inside Stormi.
Longing. Maybe Stormi understood that too well.
She headed out to her SUV. Snow fell so heavily she could barely see the road.
If she didn’t have Rome out there, she might stay in town. She checked her phone. The GPS signal showed him moving just southeast of her house.
“Come on, Rome.” She spoke to the storm, to the darkness, to the night. “Come home.”
Wind howled through spruce boughs around the parking lot.
The wind shifted, and for a moment the snow cleared.
Above her, the aurora borealis blazed, wild, across the Alaskan sky.
Ribbons of green and silver pulsed and swayed against the backdrop of countless stars, nature’s own light show playing out across the vast wilderness.
She stood transfixed. And that’s when she heard it.
A howl. Long and mournful, carried on the wind from somewhere deep in the forest. Raw, honest, and way too familiar.
The cry of the forlorn.
The sound latched onto her heart as she climbed into the SUV and headed for home.
WILDER FROST MOVED his knight across the chessboard, but his mind wasn’t on Orion’s inevitable checkmate—it was stuck on the fact that no matter which way he moved, he managed to find disaster.
“You’re getting predictable.” Orion Starr leaned back in his chair, his tall frame filling the wooden seat.
Brown hair, and those green eyes—flecked with blue and gold—that held the patient assessment that came from years as an Air Force Pararescue Jumper.
“You’ve repositioned that knight three times in a row. ”
“Maybe I like that knight.”
“Maybe you’re not paying attention.” Orion’s calm demeanor carried authority born from guiding climbers up Denali and talking panicked rookies through dangerous rescues. An artificial knee from Afghanistan gave him a slight limp, but nothing about him suggested weakness. “Something eating at you?”
Everything was eating at him. The infected wound in his upper thigh that still woke him in a teeth-gritted moan each night.
Orion’s wife, Jenni, watching him with those psychologist eyes, cataloging every wince and restless movement.
Her long blond hair was pulled back in a practical ponytail, and she wore an oversized homemade wool sweater that made her look like a wilderness PTSD counselor—which she was.
The scanner in the corner crackled with emergency chatter but never the voices he needed to hear.
Three weeks had passed since Orion found him bleeding out in a snowbank, delirious with fever and hypothermia. Three weeks of forced rest while his body healed and his mind fractured with worry.
Two weeks since he’d called his daughter, Luna, heard her voice, confirmed she was okay with Vic Dalton, their neighbor.
He needed to go home.
He needed to keep his daughter safe.
Felt like he couldn’t have both.
“I’m fine.” He moved his bishop, immediately regretted it when Orion’s rook swept across the board.
“Check.”
The rich scent of venison stew drifted from the kitchen, making his stomach growl despite the anxiety eating at his gut.
The cabin smelled cozy—pine logs, woodsmoke, and Jenni’s cooking.
Made him miss his house, just north of town, the home he shared with Luna and, once upon a time, his wife Dawn. Oh, could she cook a venison pie.
And just like that, the old wounds opened, bled.
“You know what your problem is?” Orion captured Wilder’s king with unnecessary enthusiasm. “You’re thinking like a man on the run instead of a man playing chess.”
“I am a man on the run.” He folded his arms and leaned back on the sofa. “I should have kept Luna with me instead of asking Vic to watch her.”
“Vic was a cop. And you could hardly know that Conan Sorros would jump on your charter plane and try to kill you. It’s a good thing Luna wasn’t with you.”
He sighed. “Yeah. It was hard enough keeping myself alive in that blizzard . . .” He met Orion’s eyes. “What I should have done is found a way to end this without putting everyone I love in danger.”
Orion glanced at Jenni, who was probably looking at Wilder with a sort of sad compassion. Or pity.
He gritted his jaw.
“Listen. According to Deke, Conan and Mars are locked up tighter than a tick on a dog. You could walk into Copper Mountain tomorrow and nobody would bat an eye.”
Wilder stared at him. “Like a tick on a dog? What’s that from, Hee Haw?”
“It was in the lyrics of a recent Oaken Fox song.”
Wilder shook his head. “Conan and Mars aren’t the only problem. Don’t forget Sloan Sorros.”
“Who?”
“Their cousin.”
The emergency scanner crackled to life. Static filled the warm air, followed by a voice Wilder recognized—Sheriff Deke Starr, Orion’s cousin.
“. . . dark-colored sedan, mile marker forty-seven on Copper Creek Road. Appears to have been there several hours. Requesting civilian assistance to check it out while emergency services respond.”
Ice water replaced the blood in his veins.
Vic drove a dark sedan.
“This is Stormi White responding to crash site.”
He stilled. Stormi? What was she doing here? Last he saw her, she was all nicely tucked into her place in Anchorage. And now she was drawn into this?
Oh, super swell.
“I’ve found a woman and child in the vehicle.” The chessboard blurred. Woman and child. Vic and Luna.
He was on his feet before the transmission ended, his leg on fire, of course. The room spun, but he grabbed the back of his chair and stayed upright.
“Whoa there.” Orion reached for him. “Sit down before you fall.”
“Vic has an old model dark sedan. What if that’s them?”
“We can’t assume it’s them.” Jenni appeared in the room. “Dark sedans aren’t exactly rare in Alaska.”
“It’s them.” His hands shook as he reached for the winter gear Orion had loaned him. “I know it.”
“Even if it is—and that’s a big if—you can’t help them by bleeding out in a snowbank,” Orion said. He’d gotten up, walked over to the door. “Don’t be stupid. You’re barely a month out from getting shot. That infection nearly killed you.”
“I can’t just sit here playing games while they die.
” He looked at Jenni, back to Orion. “I appreciate all you’ve done for me, but the fact is, people want me dead.
And if they can’t find me, they’ll find my daughter.
” He grabbed Orion’s heavy parka from the hook by the door. “Can I borrow your snowmobile?”
“In this weather?” Orion glanced toward the windows where snow was starting to fall harder. “That’s suicide.”
“Listen,” Jenni said, “you called them—told them you were alive. They promised to stay hidden until this is over.”
“Yeah, well, what if they were running from someone? What if—” He reached for the snowmobile keys hanging by the door. “I’m going.”
Orion’s hand closed over his wrist. Not rough, but unmovable. “Look at yourself, bruh. You can barely stand up straight. How far do you think you’ll get before that leg gives out?”
“Far enough.”
“To do what? You don’t even know where they are.”
“Mile marker forty-seven. Copper Creek Road.”
“That’s fifteen miles through terrain that’ll kill you in good weather. In this?” Orion nodded toward the windows where the first real snow of the storm was beginning to fall. “What if you end up in a snowdrift? You’ll be dead before you’re halfway there.”
Jenni moved closer, her expression grim. “The emergency response team is already en route. Stormi knows what she’s doing. If anyone can help them—”
“She’s a veterinarian, not a paramedic.”
“She’ll know what to do.”
“I’m still going.” Wilder pulled free of Orion’s grip. His wounded leg nearly buckled under him. “That’s my daughter out there. I am not going to let her . . .” His throat thickened.
“This is about Dawn, isn’t it?” Jenni said softly.
He shot her a look. “Don’t psychoanalyze me right now.”
“I’m not.” Her blue eyes serious. “I’m trying to understand why a man who’s spent years keeping his daughter hidden suddenly wants to expose himself.”
Because hiding was what cowards did. Because six years old was too young to lose everyone you loved.
“I should have never left her.” His voice cracked on the words.
“Then going out there and getting yourself killed won’t fix it,” Orion said. “All it’ll do is make sure she’s an orphan instead of just scared.”
“Wow, way to pull your punches.”
“Just sayin’.”
“Doesn’t change the fact that my little girl might be bleeding out in a crashed sedan while I stand here arguing. Key.” He held out his hand. “Please.”
Orion glanced at Jenni, back at him. “All right.” Orion pulled the keys off a hook by the door. “But you take the radio. And you check in every fifteen minutes.”
“Orion—” Jenni’s protest died when he held up a hand.