It’d taken a year of hard work, but the town was more tourist-friendly, as well. The sidewalks and streetlights had been repaired. Gabe had talked the town council into hiring the local handymen, Chevy and Knox, to build wooden benches.

Bull had purchased a batch of whiskey barrels, cut them in half, and handed them over to Mayor Lillian for the town’s gardeners to use as planters along Main Street. Now, they were filled with soon-to-bloom snapdragons.

With the snow beginning to melt, the locals who’d holed up for the winter were emerging to mingle with early fishermen and a spattering of tourists. The summer season would soon be in full swing.

It was good the roadhouse was hiring new waitstaff.

And one server, in particular, was fucking intriguing.

Bull had checked out Frankie’s paperwork before sending it off to his administrative assistant in Anchorage. Ms. Bocelli was a born-and-bred New Yorker. After high school, she’d worked in a restaurant, then in an office at a modeling agency. Gabe, being a paranoid cop, had run a background check, and Frankie had no record.

Bull nodded at a man coming out of the post office and held up an acknowledging hand to the postmistress’s hail. He should visit Irene; she knew almost as much gossip as Lillian.

Business by business, he made his way down Main Street, asking about sales, vandalism, shoplifting, and any other problems. He noted down suggestions and complaints.

Since he needed supplies, he visited Dante’s Grocery. In Anchorage, he bought in bulk for his three restaurants, but shopped locally for his own stuff. No one in Rescue wanted Dante’s to close.

“Sorry, Gryff.” Bull tied the dog’s leash to a street pole. “You have to wait out here. Food and fur make a bad combination.”

Gryff gave an anxious whine. It was the first time Bull’d left him when in town.

Bull went down on his haunches to talk on the dog’s level. “Listen, buddy. You’re on our team now, and we never leave anyone behind. I’ll grab the groceries and be back out. There’s a dog biscuit in your future if you’re patient, yeah?”

He got a long lick on his hand and chuckled. “Good enough.”

Entering the store, he did a quick survey. Thanks to Mako’s training and years in special ops, he doubted he’d ever lose the edgy awareness of his surroundings.

Behind the counter, Gabe’s woman, Audrey, was ringing up groceries for Lillian. Audrey stopped by the grocery each day to give Dante a break. She was a sweetheart—as all of Rescue had come to realize.

Down one aisle, a couple of Patriot Zealot men were shopping. Mirrors showed their women in another aisle.

Bull strolled over to the counter. “Audrey. Lillian.”