“Holy shit. You actually got the National Guard?”

  “Fuck yes, I did. So stay put, Brandon.”

  As much as I itched to get the hell out of here, I couldn’t argue with him. I really couldn’t. If the men pursuing us showed up, we’d have to make a stand. And we were better off doing it here than out in the open forest where we were completely exposed; why else would they have gone to the trouble of murdering Marcus just to flush us out? Plus there was the danger of getting disoriented and lost. Wouldn’t do us much good to escape this stupid militia only to die of exposure. Or get eaten by bears. Were there grizzlies up here? I wasn’t sure I wanted to know.

  “All right,” I said. “What’s the ETA?”

  “Within the hour.”

  I closed my eyes and exhaled. “Any idea how they’re coming in? On foot? Helo?”

  “They can’t get to your location via helo right now. If we can get a Penetrator from Lewis-McChord, it’ll be headed your way the second we can get it off the ground.”

  My internal reaction to that was a mix of relief and terror. Exactly how bad did they think this situation was that they were getting not only the National Guard involved, they were checking with the Army to see if a Penetrator was available? That was the kind of shit they’d used to extract downed pilots in the jungles of Vietnam. It wasn’t exactly something the Forest Service kept on hand to help Search and Rescue.

  “Any idea if that’s going to happen?” I asked.

  “We’ll see. You know how the government is.”

  I grunted. Did I ever.

  “Other than that, we’ve got trucks bringing personnel in, and they’ve got some ATVs that’ll get through the forested areas if need be. There’s a helicopter dropping the first contingent as close to you as they can get, which should be in under an hour.”

  I was dizzy with that relief and fear now. “Do I want to know who’s footing the bill for this?”

  Will managed a dry chuckle. “We’ll settle up when you’re out of the woods.”

  We went back and forth about a few more logistics, and then I ended the call after promising to check in every thirty minutes.

  As I slid the phone back into the faraday bag, Seth watched me expectantly. “So… what’s going on?”

  I filled him in, watching his eyes get wider with each new detail. When I was finished, he whistled.

  “Jesus Christ,” he said.

  “Right?” I rubbed my stiff neck. “I guess our best option right now is to wait.”

  He pursed his lips. “Counterpoint—our best option is to fortify this place in case someone else gets here first.”

  “Good idea.”

  Chapter 23

  Seth

  The cabin was much smaller than my dad’s place, which was a mixed bag. It was claustrophobic, especially with the trees clustered so tightly around it. A firebreak would’ve made us more vulnerable, but it also would’ve given us more sightlines, not to mention provide a place for a helicopter to land so we could be done with this.

  It also meant we didn’t have to move much to check or—if the need arose—protect multiple sides of the house. We left guns by windows in each room, all hidden from view in case someone managed to get into the building. We each carried a rifle with extra magazines.

  After all of twenty minutes, we’d fortified the place as best we could. Every door was locked, and we’d shoved chairs under doorknobs and heavy objects against doors. If we needed to bug out, we could get it all open in seconds, but someone coming in would be slowed right down.

  Now there was nothing to do but wait for someone to come out of the woods. Hopefully a friendly someone. If not… Well, we were ready for that. As ready as anyone could be, I supposed.

  For the time being, we hunkered down in the living room, which had the largest windows and also maximized our view of the cabin’s interior. Brandon pulled up a chair that allowed him to sit off to the side of the giant window where he could see without being seen. I sat on the floor beside the fireplace. My back wasn’t thrilled about it and my hip was killing me, but sitting here gave me an unobstructed view of the front and back doors, as well as one of the kitchen windows.

  The cabin was cold as hell. We’d turned off the generator and didn’t dare start a fire, so we just bundled up as best we could.

  Half an hour after his call with Will, Brandon called again to check in. Apparently our rescuers were close; the helicopter was on the ground, and several guardsmen and marshals were en route. Less than forty-five minutes, he thought, and they’d make contact.

  “Thank fuck,” Brandon muttered as he put the phone away again.

  “Seriously.” I adjusted the gun I’d laid across my lap. “Have they picked up any movement or chatter from the Knights?”

  He shook his head. “Nothing. Whatever they’re doing, they’ve gone radio silent.”

  I gnawed my lip. “They’ve probably figured out we took one of their radios.”

  “Probably.”

  Which meant they could be tracking us right now. While our rescuers were forty-five minutes out, the men who wanted us dead could be two minutes away and closing.

  I shuddered.

  “Cold?” he asked.

  That wasn’t why I’d shuddered, but it was as good an excuse as any. “Not exactly warm in here.”

  “No, it isn’t.” He paused. Then, “Come over here. We can keep each other warm.”

  Any other time, I’d have taken that as a come-on. In fact, I was surprised by how much my heart sank because it wasn’t a come-on. It couldn’t be—not while we were still in danger—and I’d also told him I wanted to shelve our sex life until we finished ironing things out, but as I crossed the room and joined him… God, I wished we were someplace safe and warm. Maybe that was why I suddenly wished we could strip everything off and go at it—because that would mean we were out of danger. Safe, warm, dry, together.

  I closed my eyes as I leaned into his warmth. This would have to do for now. And maybe when we were safe again, we could…

  That’s not a good idea, Seth. You know it’s not.

  But why the fuck not? I believed his apologies and explanations. I believed he’d only had my best interest—hell, my safety—in mind all this time. What was I waiting for?

  Why am I resisting this so much? It was so easy to love him when he was Andrew.

  I nestled against him. I didn’t know why I was holding back. Fear, probably. Well, that was motive enough to get out of here alive—so we could finally talk about this, and I would finally tell him how I felt. Assuming I didn’t find some other reason to be a coward about it.

  Whatever happened in the future, I wasn’t doing it now, and we sat like that for a little while, neither of us speaking. The shared body heat was nice, too. Sitting against him meant my back was bitchy, but it was going to be bitchy no matter what, so whatever.

  Beside me, Brandon stiffened. He wasn’t even breathing—probably listening. I held my breath and listened, too.

  Then I heard it—the cracking of undergrowth under slow footfalls. A person? People? Animals?

  After a few more steps, I recognized the rhythm of the movement, and I relaxed, smiling as I slid my hand over Brandon’s knee. “Elk.”

  He turned toward me. “Elk?”

  “Yeah.” I ran my thumb along the seam of his jeans. “I used to hear them a lot from the cabin.”

  “Oh. Really?”

  “Mmhmm. They’re active at night, too.” I chuckled. “First time I heard one bugle in the middle of the night, I thought it was a dragon or something.”

  Brandon huffed a soft laugh. “A dragon? Really?”

  Chuckling, I elbowed him. “Hey, I was like five.”

  “Okay, I guess that’s fair.” He paused. “They do sound pretty weird when they scream like that. I think it would’ve terrified me as a kid.”

  “It terrified you the first time you heard it as an adult.”

  “Shut up.”

  I just laughed and cuddled closer to him. My own comment, though, hit me in the chest. During our first visit to my dad’s cabin, he’d been treated to the sound of bugling elk before sunrise, which really was a bizarre thing to just randomly hear without seeing its source. He’d flown upright in bed, eyes wide and panic written all over his face.

  “What the fuck is that?”

  Laughing, I’d gently tugged him back down. “It’s just an elk. Probably a horny one.”

  He’d hesitated, but then settled beside me. “A horny elk? Seriously?”

  “Mmhmm. It’s rutting season. And they like to start early in the morning.”

  He’d chuckled at that. “I can just imagine all the females going, ‘Jesus Christ, Bill, it’s four in the morning. Go back to bed.’”

  I’d burst out laughing, and he’d followed suit a moment later. Then we’d spent the last hour or so of darkness doing what any couple did when they were still in the honeymoon phase of a new relationship.

  The bed where we’d spent that blissful morning was miles away from us now. That morning had been less than two years ago. But as we huddled together for warmth in this silent, cold cabin, everything about it felt like another lifetime and another world.

  But not another man.

  Brandon’s appearance had changed, but so much of Andrew still peeked through. His eyes. His smile. His sense of humor. Even the way he tensed at unfamiliar sounds in the forest.

  In so many ways, the man I’d loved for three years was gone. But in so many more, he was right here, holding me to him while we waited for someone to get us out of these damned woods.

  My whole fucking world was on fire right now. Andrew had become Brandon. My housemate was dead. Brandon and I would probably both be dead if we’d still been in Coeur d’Alene that night, and there was a non-zero chance we’d be dead before we ever got out of these woods.

  But the man beside me was still the man I’d fallen in love with.

  I didn’t want to fixate on that. Not right now. I needed to keep my head in the game, and focusing on how much I wanted to get us back on the rails would just distract us from reality.

  So, I grabbed on to the first thought that surfaced: “I’ve been rethinking my career.”

  Oh, for fuck’s sake, Seth. Really? That’s where you want to go right now? Really?

  Brandon tensed beside me, same way he had when he’d heard the elk. “You have? I thought you loved being a cop.”

  “I do. I did.” Sighing, I let my shoulders sag. “I thought I did.”

  He twisted a little to face me fully. “What changed?”

  “The case you testified in.”

  His lips parted. “Really?”

  “It was big news. I had no idea you were the star witness, but…” I exhaled, tilting my head back to gaze up at the ceiling. “I’m pretty sure every cop in the country knew about it.”

  “Yeah. Probably. But it… made you want to stop being a cop?”

  “Indirectly, yeah.” I looked at him again. “I knew dirty cops were a thing. I knew there was a huge problem with white supremacists wearing badges. But I thought… I don’t know. I guess I bought into the idea that it was a few bad apples.”

  Brandon stroked my hair, a gesture that made me want to fall asleep against him. “What changed your mind?”

  I swallowed. “I saw how the guys at my precinct responded to your case. And I…” I shook my head, leaning against him again. “I don’t know. The more I saw how cops reacted to it—how they were more pissed at you for ratting out cops than anything—I just don’t know if I can do this anymore.”

  Brandon released a breath, but he didn’t speak.

  “I’ve known for a long time that there are some fucked-up cops in the ranks,” I said. “I tried to tell myself that I could help change that, you know? Be the good cop.”

  “I know the feeling,” Brandon murmured.

  I faced him. “Yeah?”

  “Well, yeah.” He gave a quiet laugh that was dry as dust. “Fucking white supremacist cops killed my partner. I had to fake my own death in exchange for testifying to put them in prison.” He swallowed hard, shaking his head. “And the guys I worked with—the ones I used to call ‘good cops’—they won’t even look at me.”

  “Really?”

  “Of course. I put away other cops.” He tentatively took my hand. “Whenever you told me how much it bothered you that you worked with racists and all those assholes, and how you felt powerless because you want to be a good cop but you’re surrounded by rotten apples?” He squeezed my hand. “I wished I could tell you that I understood. Not just on an abstract or empathetic level. But I can tell you now, with complete honesty, that I absolutely get it.”

  There was a sudden lump in my throat that I couldn’t quite explain. “You always did seem more…” I struggled to find the words. “I don’t know. It was always easier to talk to you about cop stuff—the good and the bad—than it was with other people.” Staring down at our hands, I added more to myself than him, “Maybe that should’ve told me something.”

  “Seth,” he whispered. “You didn’t miss anything about me, if that’s what you’re thinking. Your intuition is fine.”

  I managed a soft laugh. “So is yours, apparently.”

  “I’m serious. Witsec identities are supposed to be ironclad. To the point they’ll fool cops. Mine especially had to be airtight enough to throw law enforcement off the scent because some of the people who wanted me dead were cops.”

  I couldn’t help shuddering.

  Brandon laughed almost soundlessly. “I guess you could say I’ve got some hardcore trust issues when it comes to cops right now.”

  I chewed my lip. “I’m a cop.”

  The arm around my shoulders tightened minutely. “You’re you. I’ve never distrusted you. I’ve sure as shit never thought you’d put a knife in my back.”

  I found his hand on top of his rifle and squeezed it gently. “Never. And… I mean, now that I think about it, I don’t know if I can trust other cops either. Not after hearing what you went through on top of everything else.”

  “I wouldn’t blame you if you couldn’t.”

  “I should keep doing what I do, though.” I rubbed my forehead. “If the good cops leave, there’ll be nothing but bad cops left, and…” I didn’t have the energy to finish that.

  Brandon kissed my temple, but he didn’t offer up any advice. There probably wasn’t much he could say. Being a cop got into your blood, and even knowing the ranks were poisoned from the bottom up, it was still hard to let go. Especially when there was a chance you could make a difference.

  Assuming you didn’t wind up dead.

  I swept my tongue across my lips and turned to him. “Wasn’t it dangerous for you to be dating a cop?” I searched his eyes. “What if someone recognized you?”

  He half-shrugged. “The marshals had me change my appearance and identity enough to throw people off. And yes, it was dangerous for me to be with a cop.” He actually blushed a little as he laughed. “My, um… My witness inspector and I had some words about it.”

  “You did?”

  Brandon nodded. “He said they couldn’t stop me from dating whoever I wanted to, but that I was…” His eyes lost focus. “Man, how did he word it? Oh, right—an absolute dumbass with no survival instincts.”

  I think I managed a bit of a laugh, but I mostly stared at him in disbelief.

  “I thought about bailing when we went out the first time,” he went on. “Because of all the witsec shit. I was scared, you know? But then…” He shook his head. “I just couldn’t. I’d lost everyone and everything, including myself. I didn’t want to give up a chance with you too.” Avoiding my gaze, he added, “I never thought I’d be traumatizing you and putting you in danger, though.”

  “I don’t think you’d have done this if you thought it would.”

  He searched my eyes, his own expression pleading with me to mean that.

  “I know you,” I whispered. “I mean… in some ways, I don’t know you, but I know you’re not the kind of person to fuck with someone’s head or put them in danger.”

  To my surprise, he winced and looked away. “I feel like that’s all I’ve done. Everyone who’s ever been close to me wound up getting hurt, traumatized, or both.”

  “That wasn’t your fault, though.”

  “No, but it…” He trailed off, watching himself running his thumb alongside the rifle’s barrel. “It’s been hard for people to cope with me being alive again.” Meeting my gaze, he said, “I don’t think anyone understands the level of trauma that comes with everyone in your life keeping you at arm’s length because they’re glad you’re alive, but they’re still fucked up from your death.”

  “Jesus,” I whispered.

  “I get it, you know?” He tapped his fingers on the rifle. “It’s not like they wish I was actually dead. It’s just… Who the hell is emotionally equipped to grieve someone and then have them come waltzing back into their lives?”

  “I would think they’d be happy, though.”

  “They were. But it was hard.” He inhaled slowly as he stared out at the forest. “It took a lot out of them. My death—my suicide—traumatized them, and they’ve all had to do a lot of work to get past it. A few people literally ended up in therapy over it. Now I’m back, and they just… They don’t quite know how to process that, you know? How do you get emotionally attached to someone whose death you’ve already grieved? Especially when you spent time blaming yourself?”

  “Wow,” I whispered. “Do they, like, resent you for it?”

  “Some do. Some just don’t know how to feel or how to interact with me. They’re relieved that I’m okay, but…” Trailing off, he shook his head.

  I struggled to imagine it. Accepting that he was back in my world had been hard enough. What if I’d known he died? If I’d attended his funeral? Gone to therapy for months or years, thinking I could’ve done something to save him from taking his own life? And then he just… reappeared? Alive and well?

  That would’ve blown my mind.