“Yeah. They’re over the top.” Previously, the admin had passed on messages and a family would be notified of an operative’s death. With the change in owners had come increased security to the point of a total informational blackout.

“Would anyone there know if he’s all right?” Caz asked.

“I don’t know people there any longer.” Gabe shook his head. “Only me and another member of my squad survived—and he quit when I did. The admin sure won’t talk with me—not after what I called them.”

“Hawk texted at Christmas,” Caz said. “Just that he was all right and would be out of touch for a while.”

“He didn’t answer when we texted back,” Bull added.

“Probably a burner phone.” Hawk’d probably stomped the phone after sending his text. “Give him longer.”

Gabe strummed his guitar in the introduction to a Spanish song Caz’d made them learn on his last visit home—“Despacito.”

When Caz took the lead singing, setting the beat with his drum, Gabe dropped to backup, with Bull joining in on the refrain and fancy guitar fingering.

As they finished, Caz started laughing.

“What?” Bull asked.

“Ah, I was with a woman in Colombia and singing this to her. She…ah…didn’t like some of the lyrics.” Caz grinned.

Gabe spoke Spanish, too. The song was pretty explicit.

Bull laughed. “Knowing you, she forgave all.”

Caz only smiled and said nothing else.

The sarge hadn’t been an officer—he worked for a living—yet he’d been a gentleman to the core. A man protected women, which included silence about intimate matters. Mako had taught them all his morals…and walloped them when they didn’t learn fast enough.

Caz openly enjoyed women, many women, but each woman was treated with respect and honesty—and never discussed afterward.

Setting his drum to one side, Caz asked, “So, viejo, how is your patrol officer? Baumer, right?”

“Earl Baumer. He’s experienced. Polite enough. I want to actually see how he does when he doesn’t know I’m around.” Gabe tasted the lingering bitterness left from when he’d worked in LA and observed an officer taking a bribe.

If and when Gabe headed back to the wilderness, Baumer would be first in line for the chief position.

Eyes narrowed, Gabe gazed at the mountains. Baumer looked all right on paper. Had experience. Had a good ol’ boy disposition that fit well with Alaskans. So why did he evoke an uneasy feeling in Gabe’s gut?

Strumming softly, he saw a large rectangular light appear across the lake. Dante’s cabins were over there. In fact, that was Julie’s cabin. He could make out her silhouette in the doorway as she came outside, and damned if his body didn’t tighten in acknowledgement. In desire.