“I don’t like this.”

Rolling to a halt in the pharmacy parking lot, Deke brushed the fall of Evie’s hair over her shoulder. “I can’t take you with us.”

“Aren’t we a team now?”

He hated hearing the uncertainty in her voice. But taking her to the storage unit was out of the question. She would be safer at the Med Mobile. “Yes, though not to the extent that I’m willing to take you on a breaking and entering mission. If things go wrong, I don’t want you anywhere near the heat.”

“I could be your lookout.”

“That’s Matteo and Rae’s job.”

She drummed her fingers on her armrest. “I really want to know what’s in Dylan’s gun case.”

“We don’t know for sure that there is a gun case.”

“Didn’t Leah say—”

“Dylan’s ex had little interest in helping us. She might have thrown out the storage unit just to get us to leave.”

“Then why are you going?”

“Because it’s the only active lead we have on Gold Star, at the moment.” He traced the ridge of her jawline. “This is what I do, Evie. This is why relationships with my kind don’t work.” He cupped the back of her neck. “Letting us go, day after day, night after night, to unknown destinations and into unfathomable danger, corrodes the mind and heart.”

“So you’re content to lead a life without passion, love, and family?”

“Not content, but I’m prepared to.”

“You make my heart ache, Deke Conrad.” She released a deep sigh and opened her door. The interior light blinked on. “But I’m not prepared to let you live such a dreary existence.”

Something resembling hope melted the protective casing he’d constructed around his heart. He grasped her elbow before she slipped away.

“My happiness isn’t your responsibility.”

A wan smile made a brief appearance before her eyebrows clashed together. “You have the emotional intelligence of a lug nut.”

She kissed him hard before stomping her way toward the Med Mobile.

* * *

“I found him.”

Deke’s pulse kicked into hyperdrive at his mom’s breathless announcement. He turned up the volume on his truck’s speakers. “Where?”

“I saw a red truck, a skinny, bearded man, and a sign for Creede.”

Frank Cleamer. Had to be. No way could this be a coincidence.

“Deke? Did you hear me?”

“Just thinking, Mama.” He shook off his surprise. “Could you tell if it was dark outside?”

“Like it is now. It’s an active vision.”

Her visions had a mind of their own. Sometimes they played out in the moment and sometimes they were delayed by several hours. She’d taught herself to focus on the light and shadow patterns in order to make a guesstimate on the time of day.

“I’m only twenty minutes away from Creede. Let me know if you see anything else useful.”

“Be careful, son. I sensed your brother’s anxiety.”

“Will do.” He hesitated a moment. “You did great, Mama.”

“F-find my baby boy.”

“I’ll bring him home, and you can chain the little shi—him—to the nearest fence post.”

Disconnecting, he called Jax.

“Yo, boss.”

“Slight change of plans.”

“If you’re thinking I’m bored and need to mix it up, I’m not.”

“I’ve got a good lead on my brother’s location. I’m headed there now.”

“Do you want me to send Keone and Taj?”

“No, I’ll handle this.”

“In all my spare time—” she made a loud hacking sound, “—I’ve been doing some digging into Harwood’s background.”

“The son or his old man?”

“All of them.”

“What’d you find?”

“Blaze Harwood owns a trucking business, delivering a variety of products all over the southeast region of the States. He runs his business like a dictatorship, though both of his sons are involved.”

“Sounds vanilla.”

“In the last few weeks, he’s rented several storage buildings and is in the process of having state-of-the-art security systems installed in all of them.”

“Why does a trucking company need storage?”

“The million-dollar question.”

“Maybe Harwood’s transporting more than his clients’ products.”

“Like what?”

“Something worth setting up my brother for murder.”

“You think Dylan came across Harwood’s dirty business?”

“I have no idea. But it’s the only thing that makes sense, right now.”

“Ready to hear about the son?”

“Which one?”

“Take your pick. I got scoops on both.”

“Oldest.”

“He married a divorcée with a kid.”

“Why’s that a scoop?”

“The Harwoods are a bunch of holy rollers. Taking up with a divorced woman is a pretty big deal.”

“I’m still not getting the significance.”

“Do the names Amy and Noah ring a bell?”

“The bear claw boy and his mother?”

“One and the same.”

Shit. He recalled how emphatic Amy had been about keeping her and Noah’s visit to the Med Mobile quiet. How fearful she’d been.

“Now for the younger brother. Eli Harwood had a run-in with the police about a year ago.”

“What was the issue?”

“I’ll give you one guess.”

“Drugs.”

“Ding, ding, ding. Want the cherry?”

“Always.”

“Many of the townsfolk are afraid of him. He’s a loner and has been caught torturing animals. Sound familiar?”

“Textbook makings of a serial killer. When you get a chance, do a search for missing persons or unexplained deaths in the area.”

“You’re so yesterday. Haven’t come across anything yet.”

“Keep a scan on things. Something tells me that we’re about to reach a breaking point.”

“If anyone gets knocked off, you’ll be the first to know. Well, I’ll be the first. You’ll be number two, for a change.”

“Anything else?”

“Nada. Jax out.”

Deke blasted into Creede five minutes later. The town was small, less than ten thousand people, and not a lot was happening at this time of night. He kept his search to the few places that stayed open past seven on a weekday night.

After checking two gas stations, an ice cream joint, and a fast food restaurant, he began to wonder if his mother’s gift had failed her. No one he’d spoken to so far had noticed a thirty-year-old man with a skinny, bearded man in a red truck.

He turned down Ridgeview and noticed a convenience store at the edge of town. If he didn’t find any trace of Dylan here, he would have to concede that his mom’s vision had failed them. Maybe the gift dimmed with age. Whatever the reason, she would be devastated.

As he pulled into the parking lot, he spotted a red truck and a dark-haired man striding into the store. From this distance, Dylan appeared a bit disheveled but in one piece. Relief poured over him and he whispered a silent thank-you.

The Ford pulled away.

Deke hit the gas, maneuvering his vehicle to intercept Cleamer. He’d find out who this mystery man was once and for all. As least he hoped it was Cleamer, or he was about to make a fool of himself.

His wheels screeched to a halt, blocking the red truck. He peered through his passenger window into the windshield of the truck.

Cleamer.

The other man started to curse him—his eyes widened in recognition. He threw his vehicle in reverse, but there was nowhere for him to go. Another vehicle idled behind him.

Throwing his Ram into park, Deke hurried around to catch Cleamer in case he decided to bolt.

“Frank Cleamer?”

Mystery man stared at him, mute.

“Turn off your vehicle, Frank.”

A muscle in his jaw flexed before he switched off the engine.

“Why are you following me?”

Cleamer’s eyebrows slammed together. “I’m not.”

“I’ve caught you watching me twice, in two different towns.”

The vehicle honked behind Cleamer, and Deke motioned for it to go around.

When he turned back, Cleamer’s features had settled into a good ol’ boy’s bored expression. “Ain’t watching you.”

Steel snaked up his back. “The ladies?”

Cleamer shrugged. “Yes and no.”

Too many days of worry over his brother and heartache about his relationship with Evie had his control walking the edge. Cleamer’s offhand attitude about stalking Evie snapped the thread of sanity holding his control in place.

He grasped a handful of Cleamer’s plaid shirt and hauled him to the window. “I’m not jacking around. Who are you and what do you want?”

Fear flashed across his face, and he fought Deke’s hold. “Let go of me!”

Releasing him, he demanded, “Talk.”

“Doesn’t matter,” he mumbled as if reassuring himself. “My investigation’s over.”

“What investigation?”

He straightened his clothes. “I’ve been hired to observe the Med Mobile.”

“Why?”

“Miss Frye applied for a grant. The grant sponsor wanted to ensure the Med Mobile was a worthy candidate.”

Acid churned in his gut. “What have you determined?”

“They have some interesting practices.”

“Like what?”

“You, for one.” His sharp gaze roamed over Deke. “Where’d you come from? Why’d they give you access to the patients?”

“I’m a close family friend to Miss Steele and I went to school with Miss Frye.”

“Still doesn’t explain your role with the Med Mobile.”

“I—”

Cleamer waved off any further explanation. “The complications caused by Miss Frye’s medical condition were enough to disqualify her application. Cancelling the tour’s serious business.”

“Lisa didn’t realize she had a condition. Her doctor prescribed medication to counteract the migraines.”

“The sponsor’s already made up her mind. Miss Frye can reapply next year.”

“When will Lisa be notified?”

“Letter’s in the mail.” Cleamer’s engine fired to life, and he backed away.

Astonishment kept him immobile a full minute after Cleamer’s retreat. Evie and Lisa would be devastated by the news.

Guilt carved across his chest at the part he’d played in the grant denial. Would the Med Mobile be able to finish this tour?

A movement inside the convenience store snagged his attention.

Dylan.

Setting aside the Med Mobile for now, Deke went in search of his brother. He located him in the middle of an aisle, swigging down a large bottle of water and tapping on a phone.

His appearance was far worse up close. Swollen nose, bruised cheek, bloody cuts on his arms, clothes that hung on a too skinny body.

“Dylan?”

His brother didn’t stop drinking, only his surprised eyes tracked over to Deke’s location.

Moving closer, he noticed the hollow, blue-black circles beneath his brother’s eyes and the pungent odor of stale body.

“What happened to you?”

Dylan handed the phone back to an older gentleman wearing a baseball cap with U.S. Army written across the front and a dozen pins decorating the bill. “Thank you, sir.”

“Better get that nose looked at, young man.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Dylan—”

“You got any money?” Dylan interrupted.

Tension stabbed into Deke’s shoulders. “I’m not your damn billfold—”

“Cash, credit card, anything?”

Dylan’s voice carried an odd combination of fury and fear. He grabbed a gallon of milk, two oranges, a salami roll, bag of nuts, and another bottle of water.

Wrenching his wallet from his pocket, Deke pulled a twenty and held it out. “What’s this stuff for?”

“I’ll explain in your truck.”

Deke’s hand dropped to his side, still holding the cash, while he tracked his brother’s unsteady stride toward the store’s entrance.

“The boy’s had a tough time,” the veteran said. “Give him time to explain.”

“Do I owe you for my brother’s water?”

The veteran shook his head. “Glad to help.”

“Thank you, sir. And thank you for your service.”

“Remember what I said about your brother.”

Deke kept an eye on Dylan while he paid the clerk. Where had he been holed up for the past five days? Had he been trying to call him?

In a blink, Dylan crashed to his knees in the parking lot, doubling over.

Deke shot out of the store. “What’s the matter?” He removed the food from Dylan’s arms.

“C-cramp.”

“Where?”

“Stomach.”

He sat back on his heels, calming his pulse. “How long has it been since you’ve eaten or drank anything?”

“Had some pawpaw not long ago.”

“And before that?”

“I d-don’t know. A few days.”

“Take it easy on the water. Small sips only.” He helped Dylan into his truck. When the cramps appeared to subside, he pushed his brother for answers. “What’s going on?”

“Head west on Main Street. I’ll fill you in on the way.”

“Dylan, enough! I need some fucking answers.”

“Drive, and you’ll get them.”

Dylan seemed altered. Hard, determined lines shaped his face, and his focus contained a laser’s edge. If he had to put a finger on it, he would say his brother had been forced to grow up in a short period of time.

Once they were headed west on Main, Deke asked, “Where are we going?”

“A storage shed, five to seven miles outside town.” Dylan clawed at the tough plastic wrapped around the salami. “Can this hunk of metal go any faster?”

Deke accelerated until the speedometer hit seventy. He held out his Leatherman tool.

“Thanks.” Dylan snapped open the largest blade and sliced down the side of the package. He made to take a big bite.

“Keep ‘em small, Dylan, or you’ll regret it.”

For once, his kid brother listened and cut a thin slice to eat. He chewed the meat slowly, watching the blackened landscape buzz by.

“Aren’t you going to ask me if I killed Gracie Gilbert?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“You’re a lot of things, Dylan, but not a murderer.”

“Maybe I lost my head and did the unthinkable.”

“Do you want me to believe you’re a cold-blooded killer?”

“No!”

“Then why are you going down this stupid ass path?”

“I’m just surprised you don’t think the worst.”

“Don’t put this on me. Decision after bad decision, you’ve thrown your life deeper into the toilet and then you wonder why people might think the worst. Own your own shit, Dylan.”

“Forget it. Pull over and I’ll walk the rest of the way.”

“Another bad decision?”

Dylan huffed out a breath and threw another sliver of meat into his mouth.

“What’s so important at this building that I have to break a dozen laws to get there?”

“Cubs.”

“Are you really going to stretch out this conversation with one-word answers? I’m trying to go with the flow on this. But you seem determined to piss me off more than I already am.”

“Bear cubs. They’ve been locked up as long as me. I want to put something into their bellies before I go kill the nutcase who caged me.”

Rage burned through his veins. “Who caged you?”

His brother sent him a guarded look. “I’m not telling you.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’ll play big brother and get yourself thrown in jail. I won’t have that eating at my conscience, too. I’ll take care of this.”

“Was it Eli Harwood?”

Dylan’s eyes rounded.

“Rat-faced sonofabitch. I’m going to rip his arms off and shove ’em down his throat for dinner.”

“No! I’ll avenge myself in my own way. I don’t need your help.”

“I didn’t mean that literally. Well, I did, but I know better. I have resources that will make him regret laying a finger on you.”

“The whole damn family trafficks in wildlife,” Dylan said. “The warehouse is full of animals and animal parts.”

“What were you doing there?”

“Following their trail.” Dylan gave him a sideways glance. “Harwood knows you’re a special agent.”

So Harwood’s mole at headquarters had spewed everything to the poacher.

“What are you talking about?” He tried to cut a convincing tone.

“I’ve always suspected something was up with you. Always deflecting my questions. If not for your secrets, I might have been able to forgive you for leaving me—Rockton—behind.”

After almost a decade of keeping the words behind his teeth, Deke’s confession came out rusty and jagged and angry. “I hate what this job has done to my family. If y’all hadn’t been so damn hardheaded about me working for the Service, I could’ve found a balance. But y’all disowned me like I was a fucking stranger. So I became one.”

“Not so fast. The turn’s coming up.”

A slow burn crept up his neck at his brother’s indifference. Years of bloody baggage strewn out in the open and now…nothing. Nada. Zip.

“Make a right turn.”

He ignored the command and continued west.

“What are you doing? You should’ve turned back there.”

As soon as the gravel drive came into view, a switch had flicked in his mind and all the emotional crud faded to the background. “Doing it right.”

“But—”

Deke made a slashing motion with his hand. “Have I ever failed you?”

His brother’s eyes narrowed.

“Let me rephrase.” He made a u-ey at the next intersection. “When it came to getting those I love out of trouble, have I ever failed?”

Dylan looked away. “No.”

“You’re gonna have to trust me not to this time.” He tossed his phone to Dylan. “Call Mom. She’s worried.”

“Did she have a vision? Is that how you found me?”

“Yes.”

“She must’ve been really worried to seek you out.”

“Anything for her baby boy.”

“At least someone loved me best.”

“Everyone loved you best.”

“Only after you went to work for the enemy.”

“Oh, for the love of—”

“Chill. I was joking.”

“What are we up against? Any of Harwood’s people at the building? Or just starving cubs?”

“When I left, just the cubs. Fucking Eli killed one of them.”

He pulled off the side of the road, not far from the gravel drive leading to the cubs. “Call Mom.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Checking my supplies.”

“What kind of supplies?”

“Make the damn call. I’ll be back in a second.”

He sorted through his keys until he found the one that unlocked the sideload cargo box. Locating the small flashlight he always kept inside, he shone the beam on his stash of weapons and ammo. In addition to the sidearm he already carried, he added an ankle gun, a forearm knife, and a flashbang, for kicks.

He stopped taking chances years ago. Just because something appeared or sounded benign, didn’t mean it was.

Jumping back into his truck, he asked, “Did you get a hold of her?”

“Yeah.” Dylan’s attention dropped down to Deke’s waist. “Expecting some kind of war?”

“I like to be prepared.” He gave his brother a once-over. “How’re you holding up?”

“My stomach no longer feels like it’s trying to eat itself inside out.”

His truck climbed onto the road again. Once he pulled onto the gravel drive, he flipped off the lights and waited for his night vision to kick in.

When they approached large metal building, all seemed quiet. Normal. From the outside, no one would suspect that a man had been caged and left to starve inside. The thought of Dylan being treated with such cruelty made his stomach convulse.

He drove around to the back, using the building as a shield. A fine sheen of sweat glistened on his brother’s brow. His inclination was to order him to stay put, but something told him that Dylan needed to go back inside. To help the cubs, yes. Though he thought his brother’s drive went much deeper. Down to his essence. The essence every man battles—to control his own destiny, no matter its size or breadth.

“You got this?” he asked.

“What’s to worry about with a real life G.I. Joe by my side?”

“If any surprises meet us inside, I want you to get behind me. No arguments and no male pride. Agreed?”

“You gonna take a bullet for me?”

“Always, bro.” He reached down between Dylan’s legs and grabbed the milk, knowing his brother’s strength still wasn’t up to snuff. An eight-pound torpedo could drop the best of them. “Let’s go.”

Drawing his weapon, he followed Dylan to a side door and motioned for him to stand back.

Dylan held up a hand and whispered, “I overheard Caleb and Eli talking before they took me prisoner. Eli killed Gracie and arranged things to make it look like I was the murderer.”

“Why?”

“I’ll explain later. Wanted you to know these guys are more ruthless than an average trafficker.”

Nodding, he slipped inside the building. The scent of urine and excrement hit him first. Then a fainter, more pungent odor of death crept into his senses. He braced himself for the sight of the dead bear cub. He never got used to seeing the atrocities man inflicted on wildlife. He hoped he never did.

A soft keening cry emitted from the center of the building. He focused his beam in that direction and found two pair of glowing eyes staring back. “Be back in a second. Stay strong.”

After making a sweep of the building, he returned for Dylan, happy to see he’d obeyed his command. He handed his brother a flashlight. “Keep the overhead lights off, in case your friends return.”

Dylan once again took the lead, dropping to his knees by the too small crate housing the cubs. “Hey, Moe and Larry. I told you I’d return.”

“Where’s the dead cub?”

“There’s a wooden crate in the back. I put Curly in there.” Dylan peeled the oranges and tossed one to each of the cubs. “Find me something for the milk.”

Sweeping his light beam back and forth, Deke searched for a container. Now that he wasn’t hunting for bad guys, he allowed his gaze to explore the multitude of containers and jars on display. Gall bladders, paws, pelts, claws, antlers, snakes, salamanders, and more.

Disgust roiled in his stomach at the needless loss of life—and freedom.

He found an oval plastic bucket that would work for the milk.

“Remember, feed them a small amount at a time.”

While Dylan took care of the cubs, he tried to call two different Service wildlife biologists, but neither answered their phones. So he called the next best thing.

“Hey, Britt. Sorry to call so late. If it wasn’t an emergency, I wouldn’t have bothered you.”

“What do you need?”

“Are you able to transport and shelter two black bear cubs? Both are approximately six months old.”

“Not a problem. Where are you?”

“Creede. I’ll send you my GPS coordinates.”

“On my way.”

“Britt?”

“Yeah?”

“The cubs are in a poacher’s storage shed. There’s a possibility the owner might return.”

“I’ll grab Reid. We’ll be there in an hour.”

“Make it thirty minutes.”