She hadn’t noticed before, but when he didn’t smile, he appeared dangerous—like the soldier he’d been. She drew in a breath. “Thank you for the rescue and one wonderful night away from reality.”

When he nodded, she knew he’d caught her meaning—that they were back in the real world. She had Kit and Aric to rescue. After that, well, her home was in New York as was her job and her responsibilities.

This night…had been just a dream.

Chapter Eleven

Success is not final, failure is not fatal: it is the courage to continue that counts. ~ Winston Churchill

The next morning, Frankie walked down Main Street, needing coffee more than she needed her next breath. She’d run out of coffee for the tiny coffeemaker in the cabin. Not that it made particularly good brew anyway.

She scowled at the blue sky, the cheerful snapdragons in the barrel-planters, and the bright clapboard storefronts. How dare everything be so happy.

Despite a dose of ibuprofen, her muscles still ached slightly from the unfamiliar hiking, and her arm throbbed. Nevertheless, she was past ready to return to her roadhouse job, but noooo. The boss said not until tomorrow.

I need coffee. And people. And to do something besides fail.

Maybe she’d just lay herself down on the sidewalk and have a temper tantrum.

“Morning, Frankie,” the postmistress called, herding her grandchildren into the grocery store.

“Good morning.” Well, merda. Guess it wouldn’t be appropriate to give Irene’s toddlers the example of a screaming tantrum. Besides…big tits, sore arm. It’d hurt too much.

Hands stuffed into her fleece jacket’s pockets, Frankie continued down the sidewalk. Nothing was going right.

Like the failure of her visit to the PZ compound. The chief was probably grateful the PZs weren’t located on a public road. Just imagine if visitors to Alaska decided the place was a tourist attraction.

A thrill a minute. Visit the notorious Patriot Zealot compound. See if you’re fast enough to dodge speeding bullets. Terror will strike on our featured cliff-ride when you fall right off the trail. Caution: Adults only. Possibility of death. Not recommended for the faint of heart.

Despite reaching the compound, she hadn’t figured out which building the children were in.

Then again, she’d gained essential information. Like if she wanted to cut through the fence, it’d better be done out of sight of the guard towers and at night because there was a big wide space between the fence and the tree line. She knew—all too well—that the guards had guns and would use them.

She’d found the right trail to use—the one that started at two cabins close together. What were their names? Chevy and Knox. Bull had called them the town’s handymen. If she could find them, would they give her permission to park there?