Life flashing before her eyes, Ashley Callahan slammed on the brakes of her Jeep, jerked hard on the wheel and prayed she didn’t flip. Deciding life would be easier if the vehicle missed the tree that had just carved its way across the entire width of the road, she amended the prayer an instant before she closed her eyes and left the rest in Heaven’s hands.

Tires screamed. The smell of over-heated brake plates and burning rubber filled the vehicle, the fumes stinging Ashley’s nose and throat. Then everything stopped. The Jeep rocked hard. Metal shuddered and groaned before blinking to silence.

Heart thundering in her chest, she opened her eyes and looked to the right, where her internal compass told her the tree would be. There, a few short inches from the passenger side window, the end of a massive branch pointed at her face like the tip of a deadly spear. She stared blankly at it for a second then released a shaky breath. Her head dropped to rest against the steering wheel, the engine still idling and her leg locked straight to keep the brake pedal buried against the floorboard.

A tap sounded at the driver side window. She ignored it, didn’t even spare a thought on how there had been no other cars on the road, so there shouldn’t be anyone trying to get her attention.

The person tapping pulled on her door handle then released it after finding it locked.

Fingers unclenching from the steering wheel, Ashley reached for her sidearm and slid the safety off. Turning to look out the window, she encountered a man scowling at her through the glass.

With years of memory training behind her, she immediately cataloged the stranger’s appearance. Red flannel jacket over a tan Henley shirt, with a hint of jeans at the bottom edge of the window and a wide black leather belt. Height at least six feet because he had to bend down to glower at her. Hair a black-brown with natural highlights, short, thick and slightly wavy. Trimmed beard kept close to the face. Fair skinned but with the kind of tan that, like the highlights in his hair, came from working outdoors during the summer. The thick brows and lashes. Multi-hued eyes began with a rusty central heterochromia ringed by a mossy green that darkened outward to form a thick, nearly black ring around the iris.

For an eighth of a second, maybe less, Ashley internally acknowledged the beauty of those eyes and the strong face in which they were set. The other seven-eighths of that second were spent sliding her service pistol from its holster and easing it across her lap.

Either the man recognized the stealthy movement for what it was or it finally penetrated his thick skull that the woman he was trying to intimidate was in a vehicle marked with the logo of the U.S. Department of Fish and Wildlife Services, the blocky six-inch letters near the tail end spelling out LAW ENFORCEMENT. Whatever the reason, he stepped back, his hands up in a surrender she hadn’t yet demanded.

“You need to move your vehicle now!” he shouted, hands remaining aloft as he cast a nervous glance up the embankment.

Ashley followed his gaze to see a tall stand of pine like the one that had almost taken out the Jeep. Behind the trees, heavy equipment stood ready to work, the company name obscured by the thick trunks and low branches.

Growling, she returned her weapon to its holster, put the Jeep in reverse and whipped it backward in an arc, returning to the approximate location of where she had first slammed on the breaks and jerked the wheel. Easing onto the road’s narrow shoulder, she threw the vehicle in park, grabbed her logbook and jumped out, slamming the door behind her.

“Who the hell are you and where’s your boss?” she demanded. “I want to speak to him right now.”

One thick brow lifted as his mouth settled into a stubborn line.

“Walker Turk,” he answered, pausing as his gaze flicked to her badge. “And I’m the boss, Agent Callahan.”

He didn’t look like a boss, she thought. Not that he didn’t carry himself like one, but he was young, maybe only a few years older than her. Of course, thirty wasn’t exactly young—at least, in her experience, no one considered it young for females, especially when they weren’t married and hadn’t produced any babies yet.

She snorted, shooing away the internal criticism as she flipped open her logbook.

“You can chew my butt later,” he grumbled and walked past Ashley. “Right now, I need to block off this road.”

She stared, jaw hanging down, as the man pulled one of the road flares tucked into his back pocket, activated it and placed it on the road before walking further away from her and placing two more flares.

From up the ridge came more commotion. Using language that would make a sailor blush, two men half slid, half walked downhill carrying a roadblock sign between them. Ashley decided that the taller of the two would have been better off moving the sign on his own. Standing close to six-five by her estimation, he dwarfed his partner by a good ten inches, ensuring that their steps were always out of sync unless he hobbled his gait.

Whenever he tried to do just that, both men tripped up and the sliding and swearing would recommence.

Shaking her head at the mismatched pair, she looked west along the ridge. Another set of men carried an identical sign to stop traffic traveling in the opposite direction.

“A little late, don’t you think?” Ashley challenged when Turk returned. Catching the flare of his nostrils, she dismissed the question with a hot puff of air and got down to business. “Show me your operator’s license—now.”

Turk looked up the hill, denied the order with a shake of his head then turned to the men who had just finished setting up the roadblock. The taller of the two was hairy as a bear with lots of white salted into his brown beard.

“I got through to Gamble just before that tree went down,” he told Turk.

Hearing the local sheriff’s name, Ashley buried the urge to toss Turk to the ground and handcuff him.

“Bad accident north of Willow Gap,” the giant continued. “Several vehicles involved, so it’s gonna be a couple of hours sorting it out before he can send someone here to investigate.”

“Investigate what?” Ashley demanded. The whole situation was making less and less sense. Why call the sheriff before a tree started bobsledding down the ridge? And how had the men been so quick with the signs and flares?

“Sabotage,” Turk growled, arms folding across his broad chest as he faced Ashley. “Of course, since it’s not on Federal lands, I can’t get any Federal help, can I?”

Heat flamed across her cheeks. Was the man really trying to make this her fault?

Turning, she marched toward the fallen tree.

Turk followed fast on her heels, his longer legs quickly bringing him even with her.

“That’s not Federal land, Officer Callahan.”

She flicked her gaze in his direction. His face looked as flushed as hers felt and there was a thick muscle along his jaw flexing with irritation.

“And it’s not safe,” he said, getting ahead of Ashley and stopping straight in front of her so quickly that they collided.

Running into him was like running into a boulder—hard, immovable, and certain to leave a bruise.

His hands wrapped around her biceps, holding her upright as her legs tangled together in a conspiracy to land her face first on the asphalt.

“At least let me get a hard hat on you,” he growled.

Looking up at his uncovered head, Ashley rolled her eyes.

His hands fell away as he barked an order up the hill. “Send down two hardhats!”

A few seconds later, a man scrambled down the ridge, stopping every dozen feet or so to check the ground above him. Arriving at the bottom, he offered Ashley one of the hardhats then handed the other to Turk.

“Found another five trees with their bases axed just the same,” he told his boss.

Turk waved his hands, signaling both of the roadblock teams to his side. Finding herself outnumbered six to one, Ashley smoothed a thumb along the edge of her holster.

“You’ll need to lead us up together, Charlie,” he told the man who had delivered the hard hats. “Keep us out of the path of the damaged trees.”

Charlie shook his head. “The others are set up like dominoes. Only way to stay out of their path is to go all the way around. Whoever did this, they were looking to shut down a full quarter mile of road. The west roadblock needs to be further out than what was set.”

“Show them,” Turk barked with a nod at the second team.

Together with Charlie, the two men peeled away and jogged west.

“With me, Officer Callahan,” Turk ordered, his long strides swiftly delivering him to the base of the fallen tree. He jabbed a finger in the direction of where a third of the tree had been cut at, the marks indicative of an axe being used. The other two-thirds had been ripped apart by the trunk’s weight in the microsecond before it had plowed its way downhill.

“My team didn’t do this. We are more than a week late starting cutting operations on this plot because someone gummed up our engines about ten days ago.” With a chop of his hand, he noted all the heavy machinery on top of the ridge. “That’s how long all that equipment has been up there sitting idle. Sheriff Gamble was already investigating the vandalism on the vehicles.”

Her gun hand finally relaxing, Ashley nodded.

The grizzled man bear came up with his partner and clapped her on the back. “Good thing you have fast reactions. Hitting a tree that size would be like running into a concrete wall.”

“Thanks,” she replied. “But I don’t think my reactions saved me.”

“What then,” he asked.

“Prayer,” Ashley admitted.

Turk laughed, his tone finally easing up a bit. “Yours or mine?”

“Pretty sure all of us sent one up to the big man. So don’t go hogging half the credit, boss,” man bear scolded as he thrust his hand toward Ashley. “I’m Kostya Boag. You Deacon’s replacement?”

“Yes,” she answered as Boag jerked her arm up and down, his grip crushing her fingers. When Kostya was done, his much smaller accomplice offered his hand and a weak shake as he introduced himself.

“Billy,” he said.

Ashley smiled amicably but mentally noted the man leaving off his last name. In her professional experience, such an omission usually meant a criminal record or a strong anti-authoritarian streak. When she had a chance to speak to Sheriff Gamble in person, she would find out how much he knew about Billy.

“Where were you headed?” Turk asked. “Into Lewis & Clark?”

Her mouth twitched. She didn’t want to talk about where she was headed. More importantly, she didn’t want to talk about why she was headed into the Helena-Lewis & Clark National Forest.

Turk shrugged. “Well, it’ll be close to sunset before we clear the road. Guess you aren’t going anywhere other than back the way you came.”

Ashley stared up the ridge. It was steep, with no good path around for the Jeep to take. Rubicon or not, she would roll it if she tried. Leaving Turk and his men standing at the base of the tree, she walked to the edge of the road and looked down.

“Just what kind of crazy are you?” Turk murmured as he snuck up behind her.

Ashley cast a glance over her shoulder. If Kostya and Billy had heard their boss’s impertinent question, they didn’t show it.

“I don’t have another day to wait—” Her mouth snapped shut then twisted as she weighed how much she could say to this arrogant man with his black-ringed gaze that seemed to smirk even as his mouth remained a flat, mostly neutral line.

She closed her eyes, mouth pursing as she chewed over the dilemma for a few seconds. When she finally looked up, she caught him studying her.

Seeing that his perusal had been noticed, Turk shrugged and cocked a bored brow.

“There’s a fox den I need to check on,” she said, her voice low to keep the other men, especially Billy, from hearing. “The cubs should be old enough by now that they’ll be moving on soon.”

If they’re still alive…

“You were seriously considering driving your Jeep down that—” he stopped to point at the steep ravine over which the tree perched. “To check on some fox cubs? Last I checked, they were far from endangered.”

Ashley’s hands found her hips and then she glared up at the man. For a second, she wondered what he’d look like in handcuffs. Her mind conjuring up a completely inappropriate image, she turned on one heel and marched toward her Jeep.

“Hold on, now,” he laughed.

The amused tone stopped Ashley cold. She waited for him to catch up then cut a glance in his direction. She couldn’t tell by his expression whether he had any inkling of the thoughts that had just traipsed through her head, but he suddenly seemed eager to make amends for any offense he had offered.

“I’m asking for a do-over,” he said, thrusting his hand out. “Name’s Walker. For the official record, that’s Walker Pierce Turk of Willow Gap, Montana.”

Head tilted to one side, lips twitching at one corner, Ashley shook his hand. “Agent Callahan.”

Head bouncing around his shoulders, he rolled his eyes. “Got it, no do over—at least not yet. So how about we move your Jeep to the other side of the warning sign. Then we can head up the hill to where I’m parked on an access trail. I’ll drive you out to Lewis & Clark.”

Looking at where the sun hung in the sky, Ashley felt the day ticking away. And it wasn’t like she had a complaint or any other kind of proof that a crime had been committed or was in progress at the park. Still, she would be involving a civilian.

“So, you’re not actually in a hurry to get there,” he prodded, his voice as smug as his gaze.

“I am,” she shot back.

He stepped closer, his mouth curving into an irresistible challenge.

“Then let’s get moving.”