Page 29 of No Hope of Rescue

“I don’t know. I need to talk to my brothers.” His voice is soft now in the semidarkness of a stormy morning. “You need to sleep too, Riley.”

Frozen, one hand on the doorknob, my back to him, I stand there like an idiot.

Unfortunately, he totally reads my misunderstanding. “I mean in one of the other rooms. I’d never hear the end of it if you slept in here.”

My chuckle is forced. As I close the door, I vow to erase the memory of the pressure of my lips against his. What a mistake.

Who am I kidding?

Chapter Eight

Brock Weston

I can’t track how long I was passed out. All I know is that midmorning light is stretched thin but bright in the room, and though it’s still snowing, the storm is definitely waning.

I dress quickly, being careful not to torque my waist, and am pulling on wool socks when I hear some loud talk from the main room. Wandering into the hallway, several heads swivel in my direction.

“Did we wake you up? Sorry,” Jace says. He’s always so solicitous of everyone. He says it’s the youngest-brother thing.

Carter hands me a mug of hot coffee and sets down a steaming plate with mounds of three eggs and a pile of hash browns. “That was a quick nap.”

“How’s Mom?”

Before he can answer me, two parka-clad forms stomp onto the front deck, kicking off snow, and then a third starts. The door opens and Devon and Luke step inside with a third guy. Tall, ram-rod straight spine, muscular. When he whips off his stocking hat, revealing a trim haircut, I peg him as former military.

Though Devon, Luke, and I go way back, there are some things and some people we just don’t agree on. They like parties. I don’t. They moved back to Maine. You couldn’t pry me from the Rockies. Right now, I don’t want anyone else in on what’s happening. I don’t want anyone putting Codie in more danger.

Luke knows me too well and can read me like a book. As the new guy is shaking hands, Luke pulls me aside for a moment.

“We’re going to need him.” His voice is low.

“Ross Colton,” says the man, approaching with an outstretched hand. I glance at Devon. Last fall, I helped hide a witness here at their cabin—a woman named Tory Sparrow, who’d witnessed a murder. Jackson Dawes worked for Colton Security and was her personal security detail. The founder, Finn Colton, is engaged to Devon’s sister, Claire, a veterinarian in Maine.

I liked Finn Colton in the two days I got to know him. He was direct, professional, and knew exactly what he wanted. Jackson was a great kid and had nothing but praise for his boss. This Ross Colton must be related.

“I’m Finn’s cousin,” says the young man, anticipating my next question. His handshake is firm.

But there’s something there, a hesitancy revealed in the way he glances away too quickly. Maybe he’s not as sure of what he wants as his cousin.

Luke claps a hand on my shoulder, and it torques my side. “Oh, sorry,” he says quickly. Ross levels a serious gaze at me—sizing something up. I don’t like being under anyone’s microscope. It’s why I hate parties. All that judging.

“I think I cracked a rib when I fell,” I say by way of explanation. My mom knows better than to say anything, but I catch her look.

“I had Riley tape me already.” I figure that would explain a lot about why the bedroom call, but I hate lying.

Ross keeps the conversation rolling. “I hear you’ve leased a Bell,” he says.

I nod. The Bell 407 is a four-seater search and rescue copter with large, high-visibility windows and gurney locks. What he doesn’t know is that the lease is up in two weeks if I don’t nail this last grant.

“I also hear you need a pilot,” he adds.

That is an issue not so easily answered. “True.”

“Well, I’m your guy, then.”

A pilot. We could sweep the mountain. Before I can move on this, though, Devon comes up behind me. “Where’s Riley?”

“Right here,” Riley says.