Molly Greenbriar goosed the throttle on the ATV, sending it bumping over the rocky road up into the hills beyond the small town of Eagle Rock. With only a few minutes of instruction from the man she’d rented the vehicle from, she wasn’t as confident as she’d like to be handling the four-wheeler on the dangerous mountain roads and trails. She wasn’t in a hurry to get up to the top, nor was she in a hurry to go plunging off a cliff.

Taking the ascent slowly, she eased up the hill, keeping her gaze peeled for potential threats from man or beast. She was on a mission and had no intention of failing because she hadn’t taken sufficient precautions.

As she neared the top of a ridge, she slowed to a stop, switched off the engine, dismounted and pulled off her helmet. As she stared out across the Crazy Mountains of Western Montana, she couldn’t help feeling she was as close to Heaven as any mortal could be. If she weren’t working, she’d be exploring these mountains, anyway. Unfortunately, though the scenery was beautiful and the mountains were breathtaking, they could potentially be harboring a deadly faction bent on harming innocent people.

She wrestled the drone out of the basket on the back of the four-wheeler and laid the parts on the ground. Then kneeling beside them on the rocky terrain, she assembled the pieces and adjusted the settings. She’d practiced with the device with the help of an instructor back in D.C., but flying it solo was an entirely different undertaking.

She didn’t have the backup of the instructor. If she lost control of the drone and crashed it into the side of a cliff, she’d have a lot of explaining to do to her boss back at FBI Headquarters in DC. She straightened with the controls in her hands.

With her first opportunity to prove herself in the field, failure wasn’t an option. She’d begged her boss, Pete Ralston, to let her come out to the Crazy Mountains, chasing a lead on a terrorist training camp in the vicinity of Eagle Rock.

A tip from one of the FBI computer gurus had landed on her desk at headquarters, indicating a growing concern over what appeared to be tactical training activities underway by individuals connected to some of the most dangerous ISIS sympathizers on US soil.

After investigating the lead, Molly had studied satellite photos of the area, spotting certain anomalies that indicated a suspicious concentration of people in the mountains, and they appeared to be conducting some sort of military-style maneuvers. The images set off alarm bells in Molly’s mind, so she presented her findings to her boss. Unfortunately, she’d approached him at the same time a terrorist had plowed a truck into a crowd of tourists near the front of the White House. Her boss hadn’t had time to review her research.

So sure of her findings, she’d asked to go to Montana to investigate with boots on the ground.

At first her boss had told her no. She didn’t have experience as a field agent. He’d been buried in responding to calls from the press and House and Senate committees about the White House incident, as well as bombarded by the POTUS and his staff to give them answers about the man responsible for the White House incident.

In a weak moment, her boss had approved her assignment and the use of a drone for surveillance. “Strictly surveillance,” he’d warned. “You are not to engage without backup. Get the information and get it back to me.”

Thrilled, Molly had rushed home to pack a bag. Not only would it be her first time in the field, it would get her out of DC and away from everything that reminded her of Scott and the shambles of their failed relationship.

Molly adjusted the controls, and the drone lifted off the ground, hovered twenty feet in the air and then rose, moving out across a valley.

The time was long past for her to leave DC. When she completed this assignment, she’d put in for a transfer to a field office, anywhere but in the nation’s capital, far enough away from Scott and his new fiancé that she’d never run into them again.

When he’d moved out of their apartment, he’d said he needed time to think. What he’d really meant to say was that he’d fallen in love with someone else. Within a month of moving out, he’d proposed to one of the secretaries from an office several doors down from where he and Molly worked.

Yes, Molly had been hurt when he’d left. But not devastated. She’d been more humiliated than anything else. As was the usual case for the spurned woman, she hadn’t seen it coming. They’d been living together for over a year. Sex had become routine, and not anything to write home about. In fact, for the last two months they’d lived together, Scott had worked later and later. By the time he’d come home, Molly was asleep.

Molly shook her head over her own stupidity. In a convoluted way, losing Scott had led her here to this remote mountain pass. If she hadn’t thrown herself into work, she might have missed seeing the clues. So, her personal life was in shambles. So the hell what? She’d prove herself ready for fieldwork and never look back.

The drone whirred across the valley, bringing Molly back to the present. She maneuvered it lower, while she scanned the digital screen, studying the terrain through the drone’s camera.

She’d established herself in the nearby town as a nature and history enthusiast in Eagle Rock to film footage of the Crazy Mountains for a documentary she was working on.

She’d met with the local sheriff’s department and representatives from the forestry commission and the national parks, as well as the county commission, to study the local land survey maps. She’d needed a better understanding of who owned the land up to the edges of the national parks and forests, and where she could legally ride the four-wheel-drive ATV she’d rented.

All the research and preparations had taken a few days, but finally, she was out in the mountains, armed with her GPS, the drone, a backpack of survival gear and her personal 9-millimeter pistol. She wasn’t supposed to engage, but she was prepared. Not only did she have to worry about being discovered by terrorists, she had to be bear aware. She was in grizzly country, and the area was also known for the wolves that had been reintroduced to the region.

Molly hoped the pistol was enough. She’d considered bringing a rifle as well. Perhaps she needed something even more powerful to stop a grizzly in its tracks.

At the moment, she was alone on a hilltop. The only wildlife she’d noticed was the occasional bird flying overheard.

She maneuvered the drone lower, toward a small river burbling through the valley. Molly had a lot of territory to cover. If there was a training site in the mountains, the people conducting and attending would have to be able to get into the area.

Molly was armed with topographical maps indicating all roads, paved and dirt, leading into the mountains along with the elevations and landmarks. As vast as the range was, she might be searching for a needle in a haystack. She had to think like the people leading the effort to train terrorists on US soil. She had to find where they had moved their encampment between multiple satellite images.

The FBI’s computer guru had been unable to trace the tip to the source. Molly figured it had to be someone in the Eagle Rock area since the tip had specifically mentioned the mountains west of the small town.

Part of her investigation would be to find her informant. In the meantime, she’d do her best to locate the training site using the drone.

She’d drawn quadrants on the maps she’d acquired, and set about using the drone to scan each for any signs of suspicious activities.

Today was her first official trek into the mountains after the few days of preparation. The weather had been sunshine and blue skies all week, with the glorious backdrop of snow-capped peaks. This morning had been no different. But as soon as she rode her four-wheeler up the trail into the hills on the outskirts of Eagle Rock, clouds had slipped in from the west, blocking out the cheerful sunshine.

Molly didn’t let it slow her down. She kept watch on the weather situation, knowing the trail would become treacherous should it start raining or, God forbid, snowing.

She’d positioned the drone at the western end of the valley and moved it slowly over the terrain, heading east toward the western fence line, surrounding land belonging to Bert Daniels, a cattle rancher who’d inherited his property from a long line of Daniels’. Molly had yet to meet the man, but she planned on talking to as many of the locals as possible, as casually as she could, without giving away her real purpose for coming to Eagle Rock.

Her first pass through the valley yielded nothing out of the ordinary. The only movement had been from a herd of antelope grazing on the grasses near the river. She’d observed no signs of manmade structures or roads leading in or out that appeared to have been heavily travelled.

She retrieved the drone and drove farther south along a narrow road that could have been an old mining road, or a logging road placed there years ago by a logging company when they’d still been allowed to harvest trees from the national forest. She took up a position at the top of another ridge and turned the key, killing the engine.

A noise behind her made her spin around. An animal burst from the tree line and barreled toward her.

Molly tensed and reached for her weapon. She’d been warned to be on the lookout for wolves and bear. At first, she thought wolf, but the animal didn’t have the thick fur of a wolf. It appeared to be a German Shepherd. What a German Shepherd was doing out in these wild hills was another question.

If the animal was feral, it could be as dangerous as a wolf. As she watched, it bounded toward her, its gait not as graceful as most dogs. When it slowed, it settled into a limping trot.

Molly raised her weapon, not willing to take chances that the dog was friendly. If it growled or bared its teeth, she’d shoot first, ask questions later.

When the animal was within ten feet of Molly, she called out. “Sit!”

The German Shepherd stopped in its tracks and sat.

Molly frowned. “Are you a good dog or a bad dog?” she said aloud.

The shepherd’s tail swished back and forth in the dirt.

“Here, boy,” she said, calling it closer. Molly held the pistol in one hand and extended her other hand with her fingers curled under for the dog to sniff—and it did.

A long pink tongue snaked out and licked her hand.

“Ah, you’re just a big sweetie.” Molly holstered her weapon beneath her jacket, squatted on her haunches and ruffled the dog’s neck, scratching behind his ears. “What are you doing out this far? Are you lost?” She looked the animal over. He appeared to be in good health, except for a scar on his leg and being a little thin. Had another animal attacked him? The wound appeared to be an old one. Though the hair had not grown back over the wound, it had healed long ago, the scar gray instead of the pink of a newer injury.

“What about a collar?” Molly felt around his neck and found a thick, leather band but no identification tag. However, he had a tattoo in his ear, ß826. “No dog tags but a tattoo? Are you a working dog, perhaps? Where’s your master?”

As if in answer to her question, a movement caught her attention, and a man emerged from the same direction the dog had come. He wore jeans and hiking boots. A short-sleeved, black T-shirt stretched over impossibly broad shoulders, and his biceps bulged beneath the sleeves’ hems.

Shaggy dark hair and dark stubble shadowing his chin gave him the appearance of a rugged mountain man, or a badass biker dude.

Molly caught her breath.

“Six,” he said in one short, sharp command.

The dog leaped to his feet, ran back to the man and sat at his feet, looking up, ready to execute the next command.

His master stared at Molly through narrowed eyes.

She straightened, though standing up didn’t make her feel any more in charge. The man towered over her. He could take her down with one hand tied behind his back. He could easily snap her neck in one twist.

Was he one of the people she’d come to Montana to find? A shiver rippled down the back of her neck. Unwilling to show even a small sign of fear, Molly squared her shoulders and tilted up her chin. “Is this your dog?”

He nodded. “He is. I hope he didn’t scare you.”

Her chin lifted a fraction more. “Not at all. I just wondered what he was doing out here, all alone.”

His eyes narrowed even more, giving him a dark and dangerous look. “I could ask you the same.”

“I’m enjoying the scenery,” she stalled.

He held out a hand. “I’m Joe.”

She hesitated before taking his hand. “Just Joe?” she challenged, narrowing her own eyes.

“Just Joe.” He cocked a brow and waited for her to reciprocate. “And you are?”

“Molly,” she said, not giving any more than he’d given. If he wanted his surname to remain anonymous, so be it. She could play the same game. A man like him would be easily recognized in town.

His lips twitched, and the slight crinkling at the corner of his eyes gave away his humor. “Just Molly?”

She gave the barest of nods, and then glanced down at the dog. “Yours?”

The little bit of laughter in his face died and a mask slid in its place. “Yeah.”

“He’s beautiful and friendly.”

A frown pulled his brows together. “You touched him?”

Molly nodded. “Yes. Is it a crime?”

“Do you always pet strange dogs?”

“Only ones who let me.”

“Ever consider they might bite?”

Oh, she’d considered it. She’d almost shot the poor animal. “Yes. But he sat when I told him to, so I figured he had some manners.” Unlike his master.

“Did you ever consider their owners might not want you to pet them?”

Her brows shot up. “You don’t want me to pet your dog?”

He shrugged. “Six is a highly trained dog. In order to keep control over him, it’s best for only one person to give him commands.”

She raised her hands in surrender, anger pushing to the surface. “Excuse me. The dog didn’t come to me with instructions. But he did come to me.” Molly crossed her arms over her chest. “And what the hell kind of name is Six?”

“None of your business,” he muttered. “Why are you out in the mountains alone?” He looked over her shoulder at the four-wheeler and the drone.

Molly stood taller, as if in an attempt to block his view of her equipment. “None of your business.”

He gave a curt nod and turned his attention to the dog. “Six, come.” Without another word to her, the man departed, his dog trotting alongside. Both had a bit of a hitch in their gaits, both on the same side, as if they had received matching injuries.

For a long moment, Molly stared after them. Then she shook her head, climbed on her ATV and drove along the ridge in the opposite direction as the man had gone.

Rude. The man was completely rude.

On the other hand, the dog was sweet and well-mannered. “Joe” could learn a thing or two from his dog.

Following the directions to the locations she’d programmed into her GPS, she drove down an old mining trail into another valley and up to the top of the next ridge where she stopped, got out the drone and surveyed the next valley that featured a sheer rock wall lined with caves.

She fought to push the odious man to the back of her mind, but she couldn’t help looking around every so often, as if half-expecting Just Joe to appear again.

Again, she sent the drone into the air, maneuvering it slowly across the valley, pausing it in front of the caves to give her a chance to peek inside. She had her head down and was staring at the video imaging when a loud bang rang out, echoing off the hillsides. The view on the screen jerked to the side, bounced then began to spin.

Molly looked across the valley to the last location she’d sent the drone. The device had disappeared altogether and no amount of fiddling with the joystick brought it up again. Her drone was down, and based on the sound prefacing its crash, someone could have used it as target practice.

“Damn.” Over a thousand dollars’ worth of electronics had just crashed into the valley below.

Though she wasn’t supposed to make contact, Molly had to know if a terrorist or a redneck poacher had shot down the drone.

She tucked the controls into her jacket, and pushed the four-wheeler into the bushes. Then she headed down the trail into the valley, hugging the shadows.

If the shooter were willing to take down a drone out in the middle of nowhere, would he also be willing to shoot a living, breathing human? Even if that person wasn’t part of the terrorist training camp, he might not want to be caught shooting down an expensive piece of machinery. He might shoot at the owner of the drone rather than take the blame and possible financial repercussions of replacing the device.

Molly slowed to a stop and listened. The sound of an engine was heading in her direction.

Her pulse rocketing, she raced back up the trail, pulled her ATV out of the bushes and started the engine. Then she spun the vehicle around. But not fast enough.

She looked back in time to see another four-wheeler careen around the bend in the trail, the rider dressed all in black, wearing a black helmet, barreling straight for her.

Fear pinched her gut as she thumbed the throttle, sending the four-wheeler shooting forward and upward along the rocky trail, bouncing like popcorn in a kettle. She held on to the handgrips as her bottom left the seat again and again.

The ATV behind her slowly closed the distance.

At another bend in the trail, Molly risked a glance back. The rider had stopped in the middle of the trail, pulled a handgun and was pointing it at her.

She had two choices, continue on her way up the trail, in full view and range of the man’s gun, or throw herself off the vehicle and down the side of the trail, tumble down a steep hill and risk breaking every bone in her body, but possibly living to see another day.

Molly released the handles, kicked off and away from the vehicle, and lunged toward the edge of the trail. She flew through the air for what felt like a very long time before she hit the side of the steep hill and tumbled, cartwheeled and slid down the rocky hill to the bottom where a huge boulder broke her downward trajectory.

With only moments to spare, she hauled her aching body up to her hands and knees and crawled behind the boulder where she collapsed, the light dimming around the edges of her vision and finally blinking out.