He grabbed another vest for himself and slid it easily over his head, tightening the straps with his good arm almost from muscle memory. Then he dragged on a plaid shirt over the cast followed by his green Gortex raincoat. He ditched the sling for this hike. Instead, he buttoned the shirt to where he could rest his broken forearm comfortably inside against his abdomen whenever his arm started to ache. He checked the weapon in his side holster.

Locked and loaded. Ready to go.

Yael’s hair was mussed and he couldn’t resist watching as she gathered it up and tied it into some sort of knot at the nape of her neck before pulling the woolen hat back over her head.

Her eyes flashed to his, her expression a frown. She seemed always to be looking for disapproval, or a fight. Why was that?

Her jacket was bright red like the hat he’d lent her, but not a lot he could do about that right now.

“Wait here.” He climbed out of the truck and jogged around to the other side. He opened her car door and she looked surprised.

“That’s why you told me to wait? In order to open my door?”

“I was raised in Georgia. I appreciate not everyone likes southern manners but I’m more scared of my grandmother’s ghost than I am of any pissed-off feminist.”

She snorted. “You weren’t that polite with ASAC Sloan earlier.”

“That was different. The FBI didn’t spend millions of dollars training me so that I kept my mouth shut in team meetings—not unless ordered to that is.” And that had happened a few times when Kurt Montana had been the team leader.

An enormous wave of grief crashed over him but he shoved it firmly aside.

There wasn’t much any of them could do about not surviving a plane crash. Montana would have wanted Shane to do his job, catch Scotty’s killer, and raise a few glasses to them both later when the threat was neutralized.

Shane forced the thoughts from his head. Distraction could get him killed.

He held out his good hand and stood back so Yael could climb down from the truck. And even though her fingers were cold he forced himself to let go, to remember this wasn’t a date and it wasn’t up to him to warm her up. This was work and it might be dangerous so he had to maintain situational awareness at all times.

He dug into the backseat and pulled out the Nordic poles. Adjusted them to her height and handed them over. “Figured these will help on the trail and be useful weapons should you encounter anyone—or want to beat me.”

She tested them out and leaned on them, smiling up at him with dark eyes and ruby lips. “It’s beautiful around here.”