“Hopefully the weather clears soon so we can make our way out of the forest,” Gina said carefully. “We all have places we need to be.”
“Oh, I’m in no hurry,” George replied. “In fact, I’m supposed to meet someone around here. Might as well wait it out and see if they show up.”
Meet someone. Here.The words echoed in Gina’s mind.Who meets someone at an abandoned hotel during a blizzard?
Nick’s hand brushed against hers. She looked up to meet his gaze as he lifted his eyebrows and mouthed, “Meet someone in a blizzard?”
She shook her head. It didn’t make much sense, but people were sometimes strange. She’d learned that long ago, especially working in a hospital. The ER in Irma was usually quiet, but she’d spent a few years at one of the Denver hospitals. Things could get crazy there, and she certainly saw all sorts of interesting people.
She also saw people who twisted the truth to suit themselves, who lied without hesitation, and who wore masks so convincingly that even trained eyes sometimes missed the cracks. George reminded her of those people.
Gina poured herself a cup of tea and moved back to stand beside Nick. His solid presence, the quiet understanding that passed between them without words—it steadied her. She’d always handled problems alone, had always been the one holding everything together.
But standing here now, feeling the solid warmth of him beside her, she realized she didn’t want to be alone in this.
Chapter 8
Nick
Nick watched George settle into the camp chair and tried to figure out what was bothering him about the guy. Something felt off, but he couldn’t put his finger on exactly what. He glanced at Gina. Her brow was furrowed in the same quiet unease, and he knew he wasn’t the only one seeing the red flags.
“So, what kind of hunting did you do around here?” Nick asked, keeping his tone casual.
“Used to do elk, mostly. Some deer.” George unwrapped his energy bar. “Haven’t been up here in a few years, though. Good country. Remote enough that you can have some privacy.”
There was that word again.Privacy.George seemed to keep coming back to it.
“There certainly is privacy,” Joe said. “I’m still getting used to how quiet it is out here compared to California.”
George’s attention shifted to Joe. “California? What brought you to Wyoming?”
“Work dried up. Journalism’s not what it used to be.” Joe shrugged. “Figured I’d try somewhere new.”
“You’re a writer?”
“Yeah, online newspapers and selling articles when I can. Freelance work, mostly.” Joe took a sip of his tea. “Nothing too exciting.”
Nick noticed how George filed away each piece of information. The guy was asking the right questions to seem friendly, but there was something systematic about it. Like he was looking for something specific.
And Joe...he tried to make conversation, but there was tension in his tone. Maybe the altitude sickness was still lingering, throwing him off. That seemed possible enough.
Gina must have caught it too. “Joe, do you want to sit down? Get back in the tent, maybe?”
He brushed her off. “I’m fine. Much better than earlier. It’s nice to move around a bit.” He gestured toward the tent before looking back at George. “It’s warmer in there if you want to crawl in.”
The words landed stiffly, with an edge Nick hadn’t heard in Joe’s voice earlier in the day.
George met his gaze, eyes narrowed. “No thanks. I’m fine where I am.”
Had George heard the tone too? It was odd, something very unlike Joe. Completely the opposite of Brooke, who was happy to rip everyone’s head off for messing up her training run.
Nick glanced at Brooke, and George’s gaze followed.
“What about you?” the newcomer asked, waving a hand in Brooke’s direction. “You from around here?”
Brooke moved back to the spot she’d set up by the wall. It was near enough to join in the conversation while being able to sit somewhat comfortably. “Around here? You mean this ghost town?”
George chuckled. “I guess not, huh? How about Basin County?”
