Back Into the Storm
Chapters (52)
  1. Cover
  2. Book Description
  3. Books By Rachel Grant
  4. Dedication
  5. Chapter One
  6. Chapter Two
  7. Chapter Three
  8. Chapter Four
  9. Chapter Five
  10. Chapter Six
  11. Chapter Seven
  12. Chapter Eight
  13. Chapter Nine
  14. Chapter Ten
  15. Chapter Eleven
  16. Chapter Twelve
  17. Chapter Thirteen
  18. Chapter Fourteen
  19. Chapter Fifteen
  20. Chapter Sixteen
  21. Chapter Seventeen
  22. Chapter Eighteen
  23. Chapter Nineteen
  24. Chapter Twenty
  25. Chapter Twenty-One
  26. Chapter Twenty-Two
  27. Chapter Twenty-Three
  28. Chapter Twenty-Four
  29. Chapter Twenty-Five
  30. Chapter Twenty-Six
  31. Chapter Twenty-Seven
  32. Chapter Twenty-Eight
  33. Chapter Twenty-Nine
  34. Chapter Thirty
  35. Chapter Thirty-One
  36. Chapter Thirty-Two
  37. Chapter Thirty-Three
  38. Chapter Thirty-Four
  39. Chapter Thirty-Five
  40. Chapter Thirty-Six
  41. Chapter Thirty-Seven
  42. Chapter Thirty-Eight
  43. Chapter Thirty-Nine
  44. Chapter Forty
  45. Chapter Forty-One
  46. Chapter Forty-Two
  47. Chapter Forty-Three
  48. Chapter Forty-Four
  49. Epilogue
  50. Fiona Carver Series
  51. Flashpoint Series
  52. About the Author

“Two tangos down,” the lookout added. “They were on the boat, turned the key, then boom.”

“Tangos? You’re sure there wasn’t anyone else?” Everyone knew the question Chris wasn’t asking: No bodies to be disposed of?

“Just tangos. Pretty sure it was the same two we spotted entering the lodge before dawn.”

That was a relief. Even better, the enemy was down two mercs.

Now they just needed to figure out how to make contact with the ghost.

Two hours after they set out, Audrey and Xavier reached the perimeter of the lodge complex. They’d traveled a long and twisted route high on the hillside along the backside of the boot until they reached Kaxo Creek. After crossing the stream, Audrey directed them on a route that skirted George’s cabin along with the meadow and forested area that were home to the village site, but still brought them around to the rocky outcrop where she’d enjoyed tea with the elder two or three times a week for most of a summer.

Thousands of years before, glaciers had carved this land, including the falls and lake, and the five boulders that formed her favorite break hideout ranged in size from a Mini Cooper car to a basic minivan. They were jumbled together, with trees and ferns sprouting in the crevices and a thick layer of mossy padding that made the flat top of one boulder comfy to sit on.

She’d called that rock her Flintstones recliner.

There was a gap between her recliner rock and the next boulder in which she and George would leave their mugs, snacks, and whatever book or magazine George was reading at the time, sealed in a round bear canister that she restocked at the beginning of each week.

The crevasse was hidden by moss and ferns, a perfect hiding place, but also, nothing of real value was left behind so if hikers discovered her cache and absconded with the canister, it wouldn’t be more than an inconvenience.

The canister had been packed up at the end of the summer along with the rest of the field school equipment. There would be no stale protein bars or tea bags to be found. But Audrey knew without a doubt if George wanted to find her, this was where he’d come.

They circled the rocks and logs, moving quietly as Xavier scanned the ground and trees, looking for evidence George—or a mercenary—had been here. Xavier gave her his NVGs so she could scan the rocks, and she was disappointed to see her recliner was empty. But that didn’t mean George wasn’t on his way, or he hadn’t been and gone already.

At last, Xavier decided it was safe to approach. She followed him in the darkness, crouching low as she climbed over logs and rocks. Adrenaline surged as they moved in, her heart pounding so hard, she could feel her pulse in her fingertips.