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“Thank your brother for the warm welcome.”

“He likes you. That’s what liking you looks like.” Arlo’s mouth twitched. “Good to have you back, Sutton. We’ve got exciting shit going on. Enough to get us all rich.”

I’ll bet you do, asshole.

Arlo gave a little salute and left. Ryder stood in the room and listened until Arlo’s weight on the floorboards faded to nothing.

He set his bag on the bed and opened it slowly, moving by feel until he found the burner phone in its place along the interior lining. He didn’t take it out. He just confirmed it was there, his tie back to the good guys.

He’d seen a door off the far side of the common area, past the kitchen, set into the stone wall at the end of a short hallway he hadn’t been shown. Deadbolt on the outside. Every other door in the house was unlocked or open. That one wasn’t, which meant whatever was behind it was worth protecting. He’d noticed it during the conversation with Arlo and hadn’t looked at it again.

He sat on the edge of the bed.

Whatever tonight had proved about who he still was, it didn’t change what was behind that locked door. It didn’t change the kids who were running out of time while the Diehls sat in their holding pattern.

He’d come here to balance a scale. That hadn’t changed either.

He lay back on the bed, fully dressed, and stared at the ceiling until the lodge went quiet around him.

Chapter 12

Twenty-four hours inside, and Ryder was starting to get a read on how the lodge operated.

So far, the crew slept late. Nobody had stirred before noon except the guy who handled perimeter checks, and even he’d moved through the house like a man who resented being vertical. Lunch was whatever somebody threw together in the kitchen without much conversation.

The real activity seemed to start after dark, which tracked with what he’d expected. The Diehls emerged, and the common area filled with low voices and the particular energy of men who did their living between sundown and sunrise.

Ryder had sat in the middle of it. Drinking. Listening. Laughing at Arlo’s stories and watching Heath not laugh at them. Playing the guy who was happy to be back and in no hurry to prove it. One night wasn’t enough to know the patterns of this place for certain, but he’d started mapping what he could.

He didn’t need to know all the details to get the info off their computer system. Just needed them to snooze away while he made his move.

Arlo had pulled him aside that afternoon, two drinks in, leaning against the kitchen counter while the crew drifted through the common area. “Once things get moving, we’ll want you on the logistics side. Transport coordination, route security, the usual.”

“Whatever you need.”

“There’s some newer work too. Separate from the main pipeline.” Arlo had lowered his voice, not because anyone was listening but because that was how you signaled trust in this world. You dropped your volume and let the other person lean in. “Delicate stuff. Requires a certain kind of discretion. Not everyone we bring on has the temperament for it.”

Ryder knew bored was his best play here. “I’ve never had much of a temperament about anything.”

“I know. That’s why you’re here.” Arlo had clinked his glass against Ryder’s and moved on, easy as that, like he hadn’t just told Ryder everything he needed to hear.

Fucker was talking about kids and calling it delicate.

Ryder had smiled and resisted the urge to smash the glass against Arlo’s forehead.

By evening, the common area was full again, the crew settling into what seemed to be the nightly routine of drinks and low conversation. Ryder remembered it all. The calm before the storm. The talking to people you didn’t really give a shit about until it was time for the action.

Ryder sat through all of it, smiling when it was expected, cataloging everything that wasn’t. One by one, everybody headed to their rooms. Ryder gave everyone a wave just after three a.m. Arlo was on his way out too.

And then Ryder waited. By 3:40, the lodge was silent. By four, it was dead.

Still, he waited another thirty minutes before opening his bedroom door, listening to the house breathe. It was dark, no sound from the hallway. No light under any of the doors. He’d waited long enough. If anyone was still awake, they weren’t in any public area. That had to be a risk he was willing to take.

He moved silently down the corridor, keeping his weight along the edges where the boards were tightest against the joists. He kept himself relaxed as he moved through the doorway into the common area. This was still no-man’s-land, understandable if anyone saw him.

The kitchen counter was a dark shape to his left. One of the crew had left a bottle on the table, and it caught a sliver of moonlight through the window, enough to orient him. He crossed along the stone wall and into the short hallway past the kitchen to the door with the deadbolt.

This would be a shit-ton more difficult to explain if he got caught. So he wouldn’t get caught.