She stepped farther out of the bathroom to see—and her breathing stopped.

Her cabin was on fire. Flames streaked up the walls, raging across her sofa and rug. And her bed—her bed was burning.

Cazzo! I have to get out of here.

What the fuck time was it anyway? In the gazebo by the lake, Bull scowled at how the sky was lightening to predawn gray. Meant it was after 3:00 or so. He should be sleeping. So should Gabe.

At least Gryff was smarter. The dog was sprawled out, head on Bull’s feet.

Unable to settle after getting home from the roadhouse, Bull had carried a cooler with the brewery’s new seasonal beers to the screened gazebo and lit the firepit.

Wasn’t this a perfect time to do taste testing…his temper was so foul nothing would taste good. Yeah, he was a dumbass.

Earlier, before Bull had even finished one bottle, Gabe had appeared, prowling around the courtyard as he was wont to do when plagued with nightmares. Combat vets—fucked to hell and gone, all of them. Taking a chair across from Bull, the old man had accepted a beer with a grunt and hadn’t asked what was wrong. That wasn’t their way.

Silently, they’d shared the darkest hour of the night.

Bull spent the time thinking about Frankie. She was one of the most up-front people he’d ever met—except for a few things. Such as why she was in Rescue. Why she’d hidden her car and gone hiking around the PZ compound. Why she’d flirted with Nabera.

What was the connection between her and the fanatics? It was more than curiosity.

His mouth tightened. He’d have to ask again, as many times as was necessary to get an answer. What was the worst that could happen? She’d walk away? She intended to do just that, so he might as well flatten this roadblock. How else would they get a chance to see what they had together?

She’d over-reacted when he questioned her, but…his lips quirked up. That was Frankie. Her feelings were out there, and when she was upset, her emotions boiled right over. He loved that about her…and yeah, he loved her.

Fuck, he was in deep, and he knew it. So if she thought she’d just walk away, it wasn’t happening.

He frowned. Walking away wasn’t like her. He would’ve expected her to blow her top rather than fold up and leave. Maybe because of whatever she was hiding.

So. A visit tomorrow and a long talk. A chat. The word reminded him of Mako’s psych buddy who’d show up and take Bull or one of his brothers for a hike. It’d been years before they’d realized those chats had helped straighten out their heads. Mako had saved them. Doc Grayson had screwed their heads on straight.