It wasn’t Maddie’s father. That much was obvious to Logan the moment the man stepped from the shade of the tall trees, out into the bright sunlight that reflected off the snow.
But Maddie wanted her father so badly, she was willing to believe in miracles. And it was a miracle, Logan had to remind himself. Just a different kind.
When Maddie slammed to a stop, Logan knew she must have realized who it really was.
“You. You’re not dead,” she blurted, even though Logan was pretty sure the forest ranger probably felt more dead than alive at that moment.
Maddie turned her back on Logan and Stefan and ran toward the ranger, who practically collapsed into her arms.
“Heard your shots,” he said.
“It’s okay. We’ve got you. You’re safe now.”
But the ranger’s gaze was locked on Stefan. Rage and pure hatred bloomed on his face, and Logan turned back to the man in the snow and saw a totally different expression: disbelief and also … fear.
“Step away from him, little girl,” Stefan warned.
“No!” Maddie snapped. She pouted. She did everything but stomp her foot, but the gun was still firmly in her grip so no one dared to tell her that she sounded like a child. Probably because she was also a child who was an extremely good shot.
“It’s okay. You’re okay.” Maddie spoke softly to the man. Like maybe he was an injured animal who might not realize she was there to help.
Blood covered his coat and he wasn’t terribly steady on his feet, but he was alive and on this side of the river. And when he told Logan, “Step away from that man,” his voice was strong and sure.
“It’s okay.” Maddie held up the gun. “We’ve disarmed him.”
“Good work,” the ranger said. “Now get over here,” he told Logan, but he never took his gaze away from the man in the snow.
The man who had shot him for no apparent reason.
“Are you okay?” Logan asked, but the ranger shook the question off.
“I should be asking the same of you.”
“I’m fine,” Logan said. Then he looked at Maddie. “We’re fine.”
“Good. That makes things easier.”
“Makes what easier?” Maddie asked.
Behind Logan, Stefan was yelling in Russian. “You may be alive. But you will never be a wolf!”
And just like that Logan was back in that long-ago corridor, listening to the echo of the very first words that Logan had translated from Russian into English: A boy is no match for a wolf.
Maybe it was Stefan’s words or Logan’s memory. Maybe it was the flash in the ranger’s eyes, the sign he’d understood the Russian’s threat. But more likely it was the tattoo that was peeking out from beneath the ranger’s sleeve: a two-headed bird in the clutches of a wolf.
A tattoo that Logan had seen once before.
“Maddie!” Logan and Stefan shouted at the same time, but it was too late. She was too close, her guard too low, and the man pulled her back against him and squeezed her tight, his own gun suddenly pressed to her temple.
Logan’s blood ran cold—but Maddie, being Maddie, groaned and said, “Not again.”
“You folks need some help?” This time the ranger’s words were too cheerful. He sounded borderline insane when he laughed. And when he spoke again, his too-friendly American voice was gone.
This time his accent was cold and hard and Russian.
“I knew you were a coward, Stefan, but you were a fool to try to save this girl as well. Now they’ll both die.”
Stefan was up, out of the snow and easing forward. “Let her go, Uri.”
“Drop it!” the man snapped, squeezing Maddie tighter. “Drop your gun and kick it away.” But Maddie just gripped and re-gripped the gun that was still in her hands.
Stefan inched slowly closer. “I have him, Uri. I have the president’s son, and I’m taking him to the meeting place now.”
“You must think me a fool!” Uri shouted.
“Let her go!” Logan roared.
“Logan,” Maddie warned.
“Don’t move, Mad Dog,” Logan said, turning as Uri pulled Maddie backward, easing toward the shelter of the trees. He probably didn’t even realize he was doing it. It was just natural instinct to seek cover.
“You will drop the gun,” Uri growled into Maddie’s ear.
“Do it, Mad Dog. It’s okay.”
“Logan …”
Was Maddie’s voice breaking? Was it all finally too much? Logan would rather be shot again than watch her shed a single tear.
“It’s okay, Mad Dog. Just drop the gun. It’ll be okay.”
But the two Russians probably didn’t hear a word of it. Stefan was inching closer and Logan didn’t know who to fear. Who to trust. Except for Maddie. He had always trusted Maddie.
But no matter how you counted it, this new Russian was outnumbered. It was just a matter of time.
“It’s gonna be okay,” Logan said, knowing that Maddie was more than capable of doing the math.
“I know it is,” she said.
“I’m here,” he told her, and watched her eyes go misty, because he was there. Logan was there and he was alive and he had carried her through a storm and bound her wounds.
He hadn’t written her a single letter, but he hoped his actions would say so much more than words.
“You were careless, Stefan,” Uri snapped. “You never should have let me live.”
“I never meant to, I assure you,” Stefan answered.
“What do you say, President’s Son? Should I shoot the man who took you first? Or should I kill the girl he should have let me kill yesterday?”
“You don’t need her!” Logan shouted, and Uri brought the gun to Maddie’s temple.
“I know.” Uri squeezed Maddie tighter. “Now drop your gun, little girl.” There was no doubt he was out of patience. Especially when he shifted his aim and turned the barrel toward Logan. “Now.”
“Logan?” Maddie said, the word a question: Do you trust me? Will you forgive me? Will you still like me once you see who I really am?
Logan shook his head, a warning. DON’T TRY IT, MAD DOG. But Maddie wasn’t listening, so he shouted, “Take me!”
“Oh, I intend to.” Then Uri spun. “Don’t move, Stefan.”
“I told you I was bringing them in,” Stefan said.
Uri laughed. “If that was your intention, you would have let me kill the girl yesterday instead of shooting me like a coward. You still think you can save everyone, Stefan. But you can’t save anyone.”
Uri looked down at Maddie. “Isn’t that right, sweetheart?”
“That’s okay,” Maddie said. “I’m kind of used to saving myself.”
Maybe it was her words that knocked him off guard. Or maybe it was the way her skull crashed into his nose. But in any case Uri was pointing his gun in Maddie’s direction in one moment and howling in pain the next.
Logan and Stefan watched, frozen, while she dropped to the icy ground and kicked at his legs, knocking him off balance.
The man was injured. Half starved and half frozen. But he was also half crazy with rage, and he came at her throat with both hands. Maddie didn’t think. She just turned and rolled onto her back and pointed her gun straight up toward the canopy of trees.
And fired.
Logan and Maddie had been walking through the woods for hours, listening to the crack of trees under the weight of too much ice. The breaking limbs sounded like gunshots, Logan had thought at the time.
So it was almost surreal to hear the report of the pistol and then the sharp crack of the tree.
Uri was still over Maddie, strangling and screaming. He must have thought her a moron to waste a shot. But that would have been his last thought for a long time, because when the ice-covered tree limb landed atop him, he didn’t move again.
“Maddie!” Logan screamed and ran toward her, but she was lost beneath the weight of the madman and the icy, heavy branch of the tree. Logan couldn’t even see her. Nothing moved.
“Maddie, are you … ? Maddie!”
“I’m fine. Just smushed.”
At her muffled shout Logan didn’t know whether to laugh or to scream.
And then he remembered Stefan.
Uri’s gun must have come loose in the struggle or the crash because when Logan turned he found Stefan stooping down into the snow. The gun was in his hands.
And Logan knew it was too late.
For a second he stood frozen in the snow and the ice and the sun that had finally decided to start shining. He looked at the man who had knocked Maddie down a hill and dragged Logan toward some unknown fate—the man who had left two Secret Service agents dead in Maddie’s cabin—and Logan had the sinking feeling that they were right back where they’d started.
But before he could lunge or strike out, Stefan tucked the gun into the waist of his jeans and looked at Logan.
“Let’s get her out of there,” he said.
“Okay?” The word came out as a question, and Logan couldn’t keep his gaze from slipping between Stefan and the gun.
“And then I’m going to tell you a story,” Stefan said.
“A story about what?”
“A wolf.”