Chapter 26
Trace hit the equipment barn at a dead run, boots sliding on packed snow.
Boone, Chance, Tanner, and Sev were right behind him.
The wind howled across the yard, trying to push them sideways.
Inside the barn, the overhead lights buzzed harsh and yellow.
Six snowmobiles sat lined up, keys already in the ignitions because no one wasted time in weather like this.
As they were pulling out the sleds, Trace couldn’t shake the guilt. “I should have stayed home.”
Chance shook his head. “I know what you’re going through, but you couldn’t have stayed home. The feed pellets had to be picked up.”
Yeah, that was what he’d been thinking about.
His veterinary responsibilities. It had nothing to do with imagining the look on his little fox’s face when she saw the wedding ring he’d picked up.
It took a while to design because he knew exactly what he wanted the first time he saw her eyes.
When the jewelry store called him that morning to say the ring was finally in, just in time for Christmas, he told them he’d be there that afternoon.
He hadn’t taken Kip with him because he wanted to give her that ring tomorrow morning, in front of all the brothers who’d been giving him a hard time the past couple of weeks. He wanted to make a spectacle, and now she was in the hands of someone who wanted her dead.
“If I was going to leave her here, I should have told Ruby no visitors.”
When he got back home, he was keeping her locked inside the house. Better yet, in his bed, under him, where nothing could touch her.
The last memory she had of him was him driving away without her. He’d left her. One hour to town and back. One hour, and Silas had taken his little fox. Taken her somewhere in a damn snowstorm while Trace had been picking up a damn ring.
Was she scared? That was a stupid question. Of course, she was scared. Was she hurt? She’d better not be. If she had even a scratch on her when Trace found her, Silas Holt was going to find out what Trace could do with a prod and a scalpel.
Boone’s hand landed heavy on his shoulder. “Second-guessing is a waste of time, brother. You made the call you thought was right. That’s all any Daddy can do.”
Chance already straddled his sled, goggles pushed up on his forehead. “We’re getting your Little girl back safe and sound. Count on it.”
Trace’s voice ground out gravel. “Oh, we’re gonna find him. And if he’s hurt her, you need to know, I’m gonna end him.”
Tanner got in his face the way only his twin could. “No, you’re not. We’re family. That means we all have a piece of her in our hearts. So if Holt has hurt her, all of us will end him. You’re not alone.”
God, he loved his brothers. And Tanner always knew what he needed to hear.
Sev stood by the last sled, his black coat dusted white, eyes hard. “A man… a Daddy protects his own at all costs.” He nodded once, sharp.
Trace closed his hand over the velvet box in his pocket. The ring was still there. That meant her finger was still bare. He hated it more than the cold. “Ring or not, she’s mine. Now let’s go get her back.”
The barn doors rolled open. Engines roared to life. Griff Turner, one of Wilder Security’s Wild Men, ran in from the storm, arms loaded with night-vision goggles. “Take these. You can’t see your own hand in this shit.”
Boone passed them out. Trace yanked his on, flipping the world to green and black. They rolled out single file, throttles wide open, heading north across the pasture Tanner had seen taillights disappear into.
Although it only took fifteen minutes to reach the first of the north pastures, it felt like years.
Minutes mattered, and no one knew what Silas was doing to his little fox.
The storm fought them hard. Snow blasted them from all sides like sand, stinging every exposed patch of skin.
Ice crusted the goggles. Wind shoved the sleds like it wanted them dead.
Trace kept his throttle pinned, teeth clenched so tight his jaw ached.
Every second it took them to get to her was a second she was colder, hurt worse. Farther from him.
It was like looking for that needle in the stack of hay. Endless seas of white surrounded them on all sides. Then something occurred to him. He keyed the mic on the helmet headset. “Follow me to the ridge.”
It took an excruciating additional five minutes to get there.
He scanned the ridge through the green glow. Nothing. Nothing. Then, like a beacon in the storm, back taillights flickered in and out of view. Two faint pinpricks high on the far side of the ridge. That had to be Silas’s truck.
Relief and rage hit him all at once. He keyed the helmet mic. “I’ve got eyes on the truck. Look at the far ridge line, dead ahead.”
Boone’s voice crackled back. “Copy.”
Movement near the truck caught Trace’s attention. The heat signature of a single person, too large to be his little fox, lifting something long to his shoulder. Oh, shit!
Trace forgot everything else. “Gun!” he spat into the mic.
Fishtailing down the slope, he yanked hard left toward the spruce grove that he could now see glowing in the goggles.
Tanner peeled right, circling wide. Boone, Chance, and Sev held center, throttles roaring, rifles already up.
Muzzle flashes lit up the storm as they laid down fire across the truck, providing more cover and distraction than actually trying to hit Silas.
They weren’t taking any chances of accidentally hurting Kip.
Silas returned fire, not worried about who or what he hit. Sparks flew off Boone’s sled inches from his right leg.
Sev fired his rifle twice. Both front tires on Silas’s truck exploded. Silas dove into the snow.
Trace hit the bottom of the ridge, killed the engine, and rolled off running. He positioned his body between the ridge and the grove. His rifle was raised, eyes scanning the area for his woman.
And then he spotted her. His little fox. Kip.
She was cuffed to a spruce. At first, he thought Silas had laid down bunches of dark spruce branches to block some of the wind from her. But then he looked more closely. Had Silas given her a huge fur coat? Then he saw the wolfdog out in front.
Once again, Dodger was protecting Kip. And the wolfdog wasn’t alone. As impossible as it was to believe, a pack of massive wolfdogs pressed tight around her, bodies shielding her from the cold and wind.
What in all that was holy?
He didn’t have time to wonder now. He needed to reach his woman and make sure she was safe. Dodger was more than just an ordinary dog, or wolf for that matter. Trace wanted to know just how much more. But later. Dodger could wait for later.
Silas stood twenty yards above, moving away from the truck on the ridge toward Kip. His rifle pointed at either Dodger or Kip, Trace couldn’t tell which. He knew the instant she saw him. When he was no more than five feet away, her mouth opened, and she called out, “Trace!”
Silas swung the barrel of his rifle toward Trace. Kip screamed. Dodger raced forward, jumping toward Silas.
Dodger hit Silas just as he pulled the trigger. The shot cracked through the wind.
Fire ripped across Trace’s left shoulder, hot and wet. He dropped to one knee and brought his own rifle up. That fucking lunatic had tried to kill him. Trace was glad to take a bullet for Kip, but damn it still hurt like a sonofabitch. .
Amid all the noise and chaos, the wolfdogs stayed by Kip. Dodger returned to his position, standing in front of her, teeth bared up the slope, hackles raised.
Silas ran away from the trees and ridge, disappearing from Trace’s view, the snowfall covering his retreat.
Sev skidded in beside Trace, rifle firing. Chance and Boone moved in on the ridge from Silas’s left. Tanner approached, silent from behind.
Boone sped past them, catching Silas in the headlights of his sled. Launching himself off his sled, Boone hit Silas in the chest. They tumbled across the ground in a tangle of limbs and curses.
Trace lunged forward, but Sev put his hand on Trace’s shoulder. “Hold on, Trace. You’re shot.”
Trace shrugged off his hand. “It was just a graze. Cover Kip. I’m going after Silas.”
Sev moved fast, leaving his sled and positioning himself in front of Kip, his rifle still aimed where Silas and Boone were struggling.
Boone and Silas rolled to a stop. Silas came up first, knife flashing. Trace lunged, grabbing Silas’s wrist and knocking him sideways off Boone. The blade sliced the air, driving down toward Trace.
It was only years of training that allowed Trace to find Silas’s wrist and guide it past his body into Silas’s own gut.
Trace drove it down hard. Silas screamed in pain, eyes wide, blood already soaking his coat.
Silas lay on the ground, hands wrapped around the knife sticking out of his abdomen, moaning.
He reached into Silas's coat pocket for the handcuff key.
Racing back to Kip, he reached toward her through the mass of wolfdogs, then stopped at their snarls.
A howl from behind him, and the mass of animals jumped away from Kip and past Trace.
He turned for just a minute to see Dodger leading them away into the night.
“Get these cuffs off her.” Handing the key to Sev.
No longer restrained by the cuffs, Kip stumbled into Trace’s arms, her bare skin beginning to chill again after her wolf coat had gone. For half a second, it was the most incredible thing he’d ever felt in his life.
Before he could pick her up and carry her to Silas’s truck and heater, Kip’s head snapped up. “Watch out!”
Somehow, Silas had a pistol in his good hand, pointed at Kip. Blood poured from his belly, but hate kept him standing. “It’s all your fault—”
Trace spun to put Kip behind him, bracing for a bullet to the back.
Crack.
Trace felt no pain. No heat. Nothing. Holding Kip in place to see Silas on his knees in the snow, blood pouring from his right arm.
Tanner’s shot hit Silas in the right arm, spinning the pistol away into the snow.
Silas collapsed, still alive but no longer a threat.
Trace opened his coat, crushed Kip against his chest, and wrapped her inside its warmth, lips in her hair, breathing her in. “I’ve got you, little fox. I’ve got you.”
Still in shock, she trembled so much her teeth rattled against his neck. “I love you. I knew you’d come for me, Daddy. I knew it.”
He scooped her up and carried her to his sled, being careful to keep his coat wrapped around her. He tucked her bare feet against his thighs. “Love you so damn much, Foxy. And in case you’re wondering, yes, you’re in so much trouble, woman.”
Boone and Sev dragged Silas up and threw him in the bed of his own truck, ignoring his groans of pain, using his own handcuffs to secure his arms. Boone pulled out his phone and called the sheriff.
“Sam, Boone here. I need you to meet us at the county hospital. I got a prisoner who needs stitching up, and I think you’re gonna want to talk to him, if he survives till we get there. ”
Chance and Tanner fell in on either side of Trace’s sled, rifles across their laps.
Trace hit the throttle and headed home.