“Nothing about this is a good idea, Kade.”

Pete stood at the entrance to the tiny forty-two inch escape shaft that plunged seventeen feet into the underground darkness and connected with the ten-foot tunnel that led to Haddie’s fallout shelter.

The one slowly filling with smoke and baking the occupants, despite the Dawson fire department’s efforts to douse the flames still burning in the depths of the hospital debris. The city had pulled in a hydraulic excavator to scoop out the wreckage, but it would take days to uncover the basement shelter.

Not to mention the fires that reignited with the whoosh of oxygen.

“This is the only way,” Kade said.

“I know,” Pete snapped. “Just let me think about how we’re going to do this.”

“Meanwhile, they are suffocating and baking to death. Take your sweet time.”

A muscle twitched in Pete’s jaw. “I don’t like this any more than you do. But I don’t want to be buried alive, thanks.”

“Then stay. I’ll go—”

Pete clamped a hand on Kade’s shoulder. “Breathe. I told you I’d let you go, but we’re doing this my way. The safe way, okay?”

Kade considered him.

Pete Brooks had been his champion, his friend, the person who’d rallied a driller from Dillon Oil to cut a line through to the bunker below the western parking lot. He hadn’t just gotten lucky on his first try though—Pete had spent nearly three hours with engineers and architects from the city to determine the placement of the fallout shelter before he started digging.

Kade had nearly wept when they broke through, when he’d leaned over that hole and heard Haddie’s sweet voice.

And yes, he’d thrown his arms around Pete in an impulsive, emotional moment. Pete had slapped him on the back and said, “Let’s get down there.”

Two hours later, they were still arguing about how. Still, if Kade wanted in on this field trip—and he knew only his desperation and doggedness qualified him for the job—he shouldn’t alienate the Incident Commander.

“Fine.”

Kade shook him off and walked away. They’d already sent a probe down, assessed the condition of the escape hatch.

“According to our best calculations, there’s about two feet of cave-in against the door to the chamber.” The assessment came from one of Dawson’s architects, an older man with the grooves of experience in his Montana face. “Could be from weak cement near the ends cracking, or perhaps water damage over the years. But there’s also still some support there—I think it’s more debris than a complete cave-in.”

He glanced at the outer three-story wall of the hospital still standing, blackened, smoking, and sending its shadow across the pavement under which the shelter hid. “But because of that, I’m not sure just how stable the tunnel is. The probe revealed evidence of cracks.”

“That thing comes down on the pavement, and it could be enough to crack the tunnel like an egg. That’s seventeen feet of earth, about 110 pounds per cubic foot. That’s a ton of weight. Anyone down there would be crushed if it caved in.”

And while they were talking, the woman he loved—and yes, Kade was about ready to say the word out loud—was roasting to death.

He turned to the think tank—Pete, the architect, a couple engineers, his mother, and the Red Cross searchers. A woman, a blonde named Aimee, kept looking at Pete as if she might not want him to go down into the tunnel.

“We could drill it out first—get a microtunnel boring machine,” the architect suggested.

“It’s two feet of dirt at most!” Kade said. “Let’s just get down there with a couple shovels—”

Pete held up his hand. “Here’s what’s going to happen. We don’t have anything in the rig that will hold up that much weight, and Kade’s right. Even with the oxygen we’re pumping down into that hole, it’s not enough to keep them from baking in the rising temperatures. The longer the cement absorbs the heat of the fire, the hotter it’ll get. We have SCBA tanks in the Humvee, shovels, and rope. I’ll go down there with a camera and a shovel, and if we think we need to back out, we will.”

He looked at Kade, raised an eyebrow.

Kade nodded.

“I’ll go first,” Pete said.

Kade shook his head. “Listen, if something goes wrong, one of us needs to get us out. And that’s you, Pete. Just don’t leave me in there if it all comes down on me, okay?”

Pete nodded, his face grim.

Kade suited up—hard hat, gloves, harness, rescue rope, flashlight, and a shovel.

Pete clipped an EEBD, a pony oxygen SCBA, onto Kade’s belt and attached the regulator near his collar. “If you get into trouble, this has compressed air. Just breathe, in and out. Don’t panic.”

Oh, he was way beyond panic, but Kade nodded.

The airshaft/escape hatch of the fallout shelter emerged just beyond the parking lot, covered in a never-noticed-before square box with a ventilator cover. Weeds concealed it, but the city engineer located it on a map, and Pete unearthed it in moments. Once opened, they discovered a metal ladder leading into the tunnel.

Kade climbed into the earth.

Cool breath surrounded him, mixed with the odor of aged cement, earth, and rust from years of water leakage. He landed on the bottom of the shaft, maneuvered onto his knees, and hit the lamp light on his helmet. It illuminated the tunnel, three feet tall, a box that led to a dark mass of earth and cement. A glance around the tunnel revealed tiny rivulets in the cement, but nothing breaking through. “It looks okay!”

Even if it hadn’t...but he didn’t want to give Pete any reason to yank him back up. Kade crawled into the maw of the tunnel, his shovel scraping on the cement, the fine hairs lifting on his neck. Moisture wicked up into his hands, his knees. Pete landed behind him and scooted a canvas pallet to him. “Put the dirt on this. We’ll drag it out and send it up.”

Kade grabbed it and kept moving, his shoulder bumping the tunnel’s side, his helmet scraping against the ceiling. Pete, behind him, blocked some of the shaft light, although his headlamp illuminated the tomb.

Kade agreed with the architect’s assessment—it seemed the tunnel had only weakened in a couple key areas, trickling earth into the chamber. He dug his shovel in and pulled away the debris. Damp and rank, the dirt crawled with insects. He shoved it onto the canvas pallet, then put the shovel down. “It’s too cumbersome. I’ll dig with my hands.”

He clawed at the dirt like a mole, pushing the waste onto the pallet, digging his way through the pile. Around him, the cement chamber webbed like a windshield, as if ready to implode. Still, it had stayed intact all these years...

“I can see the door!” Kade reached through the dirt, his arm scrubbing on the cement, and touched the metal door. Knocked on it. “Haddie!”

He pushed more dirt out of the way, cleaning out the passage. Heard a muted voice on the other side.

“Haddie!”

He’d widened the passage now, turned, and spied Pete crawling back to dump the dirt.

The door groaned, and he hit it again.

“I can’t open it! It’s stuck!”

“I’ll help push!”

Pete returned and handed up the shovel. “Wedge this into the frame.”

Kade shoved the spade into the lip of the door and used the handle as a fulcrum.

A groan, and the shovel moved. The door cracked free from the seal.

Kade wasn’t sure if it was because he moved or from the seal of the door giving way, but as it broke free, dirt began to shower into the tunnel from the fissure in the cement.

“That’s not good,” Pete said. “Hurry up!”

The door opened, and Kade’s light shone on a blinking, grimy, and oh-so-beautiful Haddie Brown. “Kade!”

“I told you I was—”

Shouts echoed down the chamber, careening into their catacomb. “Get out! The wall’s coming down!”

Kade scrabbled for the door. Haddie sort of caught him, enough to break his fall onto a table next to the door.

Behind him, the shaft shuddered, then a ripping roared through the chamber as earth filled the tunnel. Pete screamed, and Kade launched himself to his feet, toward the hole.

A rush of dirt threw him back and flung debris into the shelter.

Pete’s hand hung from the open doorway hatch, unmoving.

“He’s going to die in there!”

Haddie couldn’t believe that Kade had fallen right back into her arms—one second before the earth decided to fight back.

Entrapping someone named Pete. She only knew that because of the way Kade jumped up, called his name and began to claw at the earth, pulling it down into the room.

“I know, Haddie—help me dig!”

Great chunks of dirt thundered onto the table, along with chunks of cement and earthy debris. She worked beside him, the dirt spilling out.

“I have his arm,” Kade said and began to pull.

“No—wait—you could damage his spine!” She continued to dig, found a hard hat, then Pete’s face, his chin. Pressed her fingers along his neck. “He’s alive. But I don’t think he’s breathing.”

“We need to get him out of there.” Kade pawed his way into the tunnel. “I have his shoulders.”

He leveraged his legs against the wall and began to pull. Pete slid out, and she helped stabilize him, grabbing onto Pete’s waist as Kade worked him out.

Dr. Lilligren had joined them, and together they lowered Pete onto the table. “His heart stopped. Get him on the floor.”

Lilligren grabbed his feet, Kade his shoulders, and Haddie helped lower Pete, then swept his airway for dirt. When it seemed clean enough, she bent, tilted back his head, and breathed into his mouth. Twice. Then, compressions.

“I have oxygen.” Kade detached the regulator, fixing it into Pete’s mouth. Then he took off the pony bottle and turned it on. It fed compressed air to Pete as Haddie pumped.

“C’mon, Pete,” Kade said, more of a growl.

Lilligren knelt opposite Pete, checked his pulse.

Silence, just the groaning of hope as Haddie bent over Pete.

Then he coughed. She rolled him over as he sputtered.

His body writhed, and she whipped off the regulator just as he retched. Dirt and spittle pooled on the floor, his body shuddering.

He finally collapsed onto his back, breathing hard. His eyes opened, and he stared at the ceiling. Big blue eyes, so much fear in them she touched his hand.

His voice rasped out, broken, edgy. “Where’s...Jess? Is she...okay?”

Oh no. She glanced at Kade. “Is there someone else in the tunnel with you?”

Kade shook his head. “There’s a female rescuer with them, but her name is Aimee. Oh...wait. I know who he’s talking about.”

He leaned over Pete. “Jess isn’t here, buddy. You’re in Dawson, not Mercy Falls. You were in a cave-in.”

Haddie picked up the regulator, cleaned it with her shirt, and shoved it back into Pete’s mouth. “Just breathe. Nice and deep, slowly.”

His eyes met hers, his expression betraying a little wooziness in the circumstances, so she found his hand again, squeezed.

Kade had turned away, his hands on the floor, as if steadying himself. Just breathing.

He finally took in a long breath and turned back to Pete.

“You scared me there, pal. What was I going to tell the PEAK team?”

Pete seemed rattled, too. His hand trembled when he reached up to hold the regulator.

“What’s the PEAK team?” Haddie asked.

“This is Pete Brooks—he used to work on the PEAK Search and Rescue team that Ian Shaw founded. He left a few months ago to join the Red Cross.”

Pete was pushing himself up, pulling the regulator from his mouth. He wiped his face with his shirt. “I’m okay.”

But he didn’t look okay. He scooted back against the wall, white, shaking. Haddie reached out to take his pulse, but he grabbed her hand. “I’m okay. I’m...just stupid. I knew better.”

She hadn’t a clue what he meant, but, “What you are is brave. Both of you.” She stood up.

And because the crisis was over, she turned her attention on Kade.

He had climbed to his feet, watching the scenario playing out. Pete’s helmet had fallen off, and his headlamp splashed light throughout the room. It illuminated the raw, brittle expression on Kade’s face as he looked at Pete, then to her.

And for a second, the thought came to her—he’d followed her into trouble, yet again, and nearly gotten himself killed.

But his expression didn’t say that at all. She couldn’t read it, and in a moment it vanished as he took two steps toward her and pulled her into his arms.

Crushed her, really, into his embrace, trembling as he buried his face into her shoulder. “I thought I’d lost you. I thought—I saw the hospital go down and right then...” He pulled back, caught her face in his hands. “I shouldn’t have left you here.”

She grasped his wrists. “You couldn’t have known the hospital would explode.”

“No, but—” He let her go. Backed away. “That just seems like my entire life. I try to keep the people I love out of trouble, and it backfires. Explodes in my face, and then they get killed.” He looked so wrecked standing there, face nearly black with dirt, perspiration dragging a line down his cheeks, his clothes filthy, his eyes shiny.

Oh, Kade. “You nearly died because of me. I’m so sorry—I should have gone home.”

“C’mon, Haddie. Stop.” He closed the gap between them, shaking his head. “You saved lives. It’s a good thing you were here.”

“But if I’d stuck to the plan...”

“Thank the Lord you didn’t.” Kade touched his forehead to hers, his mouth so close she could feel his breath “Otherwise Erica and so many others would have died.”

“She’s okay?”

He leaned back, nodding. “You should have seen Nash—he lost it when he found them in the parking lot.”

She nodded.

He winced. “Aw, sorry. I didn’t think about what I said. I shouldn’t have—”

“Do you seriously think I’m still in love with Nash?” She shook her head. “Kade—I stopped loving Nash when...” When I kissed you.

The words caught her up, and her eyes widened. Yes. That day she’d kissed Kade so many years ago she’d surrendered her heart without realizing it.

Then slept with Nash in a desperate attempt to get it back. To give it to the man she thought she belonged to. To stick to the only plan she had.

“Listen. I’ll always care about Nash. But I don’t love him. I haven’t for years. Not when I love someone else.”

He actually swallowed, the big oaf, as if he might be waiting for her to name some other random fella.

“You, cowboy. I love you.”

It took a beat, but one side of his mouth twisted up, something sweet and young, and for a moment she saw him as she remembered him best, waving to her from across the football field, or as he dusted himself off after being thrown from a horse, or even as he drove up in his pickup. Kade, always looking for her, always showing up when she needed him.

She should have loved him first. Only. And that thought pushed tears into her eyes.

Kade reached up, thumbed one away as it fell. “What’s the matter, Goose?”

She shook her head, the urge to kiss him welling up, nearly pressing her into his arms. But Lilligren, and Pete, and...

And then she didn’t care. Because she’d been waiting to kiss this man—really kiss him—without the check in her heart, the shame tugging her away for...well, it felt as natural as breathing to press her lips to his. To wrap her arms around him and hold on.

And sigh into his touch as he kissed her back. Sweetly, as if he knew they had an audience, although in the dim light, perhaps not as much. A kiss that tasted of relief, or promise.

Homecoming.

He drew away. Met her eyes. “You okay?”

“Now I am.”

He gave her a wry smile. “Don’t speak too soon because...I have no idea how we’re getting out of here.”

Yeah, well, for the first time in her life, she didn’t care that she didn’t have a plan.

Not when she had Kade.