“Hmm. That sounds different. Interesting.” Don’t appear too enthusiastic, Frankie. The crazy cultists would be suspicious otherwise. She needed to let them chase her.

Even if everything in her urged her to get Kit and Aric out now.

She took their money for the drinks—no credit cards for these boys—and handed back change. Modeling herself after a younger cousin, she assumed a pitiful, wavery smile. “After the month I’ve had, peace would be awfully nice.”

She left without waiting for their response. They’d be back. It sounded as if the PZs were frequent customers.

Stopping near the center of the room, she pulled in a breath to release her anger and frustration. Boy, did she need a drink to erase the foul taste of the fanatics.

Hang on, Kit. I’m going to find you and see that you’re safe.

One more breath, and she was able to get moving again.

As she headed for the next table of customers, she noticed the bartender—Bull—watching her with a concerned expression, as if making sure she was all right.

The realization sent a tiny blossom of warmth through her. Because, despite her brave words to Felix, right now, it felt like home was awfully far away.

Chapter Five

The truth of the matter is that you always know the right thing to do. The hard part is doing it. ~ LTG Norman Schwarzkopf, U.S. Army, Retired

The town cleaned up nice, didn’t it? With Gryff at his side, Bull strolled down Rescue’s main street. Checking on the businesses was another of the responsibilities on his plate.

When Mako had first moved to the failing town of Rescue, he’d bought up a bunch of properties to help the business owners escape. Then McNally’s Resort opened, bringing tourists back to the area. When Mako died, he left everything to Bull, Gabe, Caz, and Hawk along with orders: Revive the town.

It was why all four of them moved to Rescue. Bull opened the roadhouse; Gabe, the police station; Caz, the health clinic. Hawk had only come back last fall and was picking up jobs as a bush pilot. Since Bull had an MBA, his brothers dumped the administration of Mako’s trust and managing the properties to him.

Bull considered the street. On each side were piles of dirty snow that would take a while yet to melt.

The business owners had started their spring spruce-up. The two-story hardware store was now forest green. Obviously inspired, the sporting goods owner used the same color to paint the trim on his white building. The art gallery was pale yellow, the coffee shop green and white. Brightly colored, boxy clapboard buildings mingled with reproduction Victorian architecture creating a picturesque downtown, especially against the backdrop of snow-topped peaks to the south.