1
"That's the last of it."
Izzy Reyes torqued down the final panel on Knight Tactical's Pilatus PC-12 and stepped back, wiping greasy hands on her coveralls.
Her team would be wheels up for Alaska in twenty minutes, chasing danger while she stayed behind. Safe. Grounded. Useless.
The knot in her stomach twisted tighter.
Ronan, their team leader, strode forward, expression stony, phone in hand. "Just got the latest sitrep. Snowpack's still completely unstable. They’ve got injured and missing clients and Seely’s down with a fractured tibia." Ronan's voice carried across the hangar. "They need extra bodies and the drone kit—yesterday."
“You’re ready to preflight.” Izzy popped the cowling closed and wiped her greasy hands on her coveralls. The other Knight Tactical unit, Jack Reese's team, had hit trouble in Alaska—an avalanche during their high-net-wealth client’s backcountry ski tour. And they weren’t sure if it was a natural disaster or targeted attack.
The team needed her. But so did her tiny family.
She stepped back from the aircraft, fighting the urge to insist Ronan let her join in.
Axel muscled a Pelican case of drone equipment past her, his massive frame making the heavy case look like a lunchbox.
Kenji followed with another case, shooting Axel a look. "TSA's gonna love that haircut of yours. Very 'Action Movie Villain chic.'"
"Says the guy who got detained in Denver for suspicious quantities of beef jerky." Axel's grin didn't quite mask the tension underneath. They all felt it—that pre-mission edge that meant things could go sideways fast.
Izzy forced a laugh. "You boys have fun playing in the snow. Someone's gotta keep the home fires burning." The words came out lighter than they felt. Her team needed her, but?—
"Izzy, we've got this." Deke's calm voice cut through her spiral. "Your mom needs you. Chantal needs you. That's where you belong right now."
Right. Luz was six weeks out from hip replacement surgery, still navigating life with a walker. And Chantal's first-grade Christmas pageant was in four days. Izzy had promised to finish those angel wings, had already started the wire frame that would hold gossamer fabric and enough glitter to make her daughter shine.
Family first. Even if it felt like she was letting her team down.
This was the right call. The only call. But watching her team prep for danger while she stayed behind safe and sound—it chafed like an ill-fitting boot.
"Circle up," Deke called out, and the team converged near the plane's cargo door. "Quick prayer before we hit it."
Izzy drifted away to the hangar's tool section, busying herself with organizing wrenches that didn't need organizing. Through the window, she watched her teammates bow their heads, handsclasped or resting on each other's shoulders. The morning light caught their breath, making their words visible even if she couldn't hear them.
A familiar hollowness expanded in her chest. Three months now of feeling like she was treading water while everyone else swam toward something meaningful. Ronan had Maya. Deke had Jade and his son. Kenji had a new lease on life…and a bright future with Cassidy. Even Axel had Olivia…and his ridiculous one-man crusade against Hope Landing's criminal element.
What did she have? A six-year-old daughter who wanted to know more about her missing disaster of a father every day, it seemed like. And a job she loved but that felt increasingly routine. Good things. Important things.
But nothing that made her feel...alive.
Winter had settled into her bones, and it had nothing to do with the December cold.
The crunch of tires on frost snapped her attention back to the hangar. A Hope Landing police SUV pulled up outside, and Izzy's jaw tightened reflexively. She knew that car. More specifically, she knew the uptight automaton who drove it.
Chief Cory Fraser unfolded himself from the driver's seat, and even through the grimy window, she could see his uniform was pressed within an inch of its life. Of course it was. The man probably ironed his underwear too. Nordic features that belonged on a ski poster, all sharp angles and winter-blue eyes, wrapped up in a personality that had all the flexibility of rebar.
He moved with that particular cop swagger—not quite military, but close enough to make her teeth itch. Manila folder in hand, because he never showed up anywhere without paperwork.
The hangar door opened, bringing a blast of cold air and one very unwelcome visitor.
"Greetings, dude." Deke's voice was carefully neutral. "What can we do for you?"
"’Morning, Deke. I’m looking for Axel." Cory's gaze swept the hangar, pausing on each face before landing on Izzy. Something flickered in those ice-blue eyes before returning to all-business mode.
Izzy abandoned her wrench organization and moved to block the path deeper into the hangar. "Axel's not here."
