Not an unexpected response. Hawk didn’t hate people, but wasn’t exactly sociable, mostly because he hated to talk.

“I’m picking up work as a bush pilot.” Hawk stepped around a patch of snow. “Deliveries, mostly. Some taxi stuff as long as it’s not that sightseeing crap where I’d have to give an idiotic tourist spiel.”

“Sounds good.” Relief made Bull’s voice come out gruff. If Hawk had flying jobs, he wouldn’t return to being a mercenary. They’d all been worried.

A while later, Bull slowed and held up a hand in the ‘stay quiet’ signal. They were within hearing distance of the compound. Time to go silent.

The fence marked the edge of the PZ’s property line, so Bull and Hawk weren’t trespassing. But that had never stopped the fanatics from acting like pissed-off yellowjackets. Only these wasps had bullets instead of stingers.

In the late afternoon, Frankie left her car safely hidden behind some bushes, sat down on a log, and used a compass to mark her starting location on the map.

There, it hadn’t even taken her too long. She was improving.

Taking another reading, she set off toward where the Patriot Zealot compound should be.

It’d sure be easier if there were some actual hiking trails in this area—or cell service so she could use a GPS. But noooo, it was all wilderness.

Between quick heart-lifting glances at the gorgeous mountain to the south and east, she concentrated on her navigation. The vegetation was annoyingly thick until she blundered onto a thin animal-created path. With a sigh of relief, she checked her compass and marked her map, then followed it. It was much better walking, only what was that? Ew.

In the center of the path was a huge steaming pile of poop. Nose wrinkled, she stepped over it. Please, let whatever beast made that be a long, long way away.

Something thudded off to her right, and she jumped. But…okay…it was moving away. A rustling sound came from her left. She jerked—and a bird burst from a bush. Frankie put her hand over her racing heart. Only a bird.

Oh, I want to go home. At least in New York, she knew what she was doing.

She’d tried to figure out all this wilderness hiking by researching her ass off since talking to Kit almost a week ago. In the little Rescue coffee shop, she’d watched videos on her phone on how to navigate in a forest, then bought a compass and topographical map in the sports store.

Her goal today was to reach the compound—without getting lost.

And then see what would be needed to sneak up to the fence behind the children’s building.