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Back Into the Storm Save as PDF
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

She was weary in the extreme, but still wired with adrenaline. She’d had no idea her body could perform at this pace, especially at eleven and a half weeks pregnant, but survival instincts overrode hormones, apparently.

Jeb’s cabin, at the farthest end of the road from the lodge, was closer than any other to George’s forest hideaway on the opposite side of the falls. Kaxo Falls sat at the top of the lumpy boot, while Jeb’s was on the back of the calf.

Between Jeb’s place and the falls was a campground that had an historic CCC picnic shelter that was due for refurbishment this summer. Jeb often complained about campers on his property. A thinning of the clouds to the northwest allowed the moon’s glow to penetrate and cast faint illumination across the lake, allowing her to read the half dozen “NO TRESSPASSING” signs Jeb had posted around his property.

They stuck to the shadows of the trees as much as possible as they watched the old cabin and carriage house, which now served as a garage.

“We’ll wait for the clouds in front of the moon to thicken again, then make a move on the house,” Xavier whispered, his lips brushing her ear so he could be heard over the steady beat of raindrops on her hood.

She nodded. After hours of wishing for the slightest bit of illumination so she could see her feet, it was a bit odd to be wishing the light away. But the moon would be lost behind the hills and trees to the northwest in another hour or so anyway. It would set a little more than an hour before sunrise. According to Xavier, at that point, they would be setting up their tent deep in the woods, and her body ached for that moment when she could collapse in a warm sleeping bag.

She studied the cabin, which was one of the oldest structures on the lake—predating the lodge by at least ten years. She hadn’t always gotten along with Jeb—the confrontation she’d had with him in mid-November when the looting was discovered was a case in point—but she grieved his loss. He’d loved this land even more than she did, and he’d devoted his life to protecting it, even if she disagreed with his methods and sometimes his views.