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  He had to admit his shrink was probably right about one thing—to stop focusing on his failed marriage, he needed to start looking to the future. And Molly McClure, with her numerous charms, represented a future he hardly dared dream of.

  6

  After hastily calling Mom to let her know there’d be one more for supper, Molly pulled off her black jacket, untucked her blouse, and drove off toward Ellison Mountain. It wasn’t a long trip, but it had the kind of unpredictable curves that kept her eyes glued to the road.

  Why had she boldly offered to go to Zane’s work site? Yes, it was true that she’d always been curious about the lumberjack profession, but only mildly curious. Maybe the real pull for her was seeing Zane in his natural habitat.

  Which was the complete opposite of hers.

  Growing up, Katie had been the one who camped out with Dad on their small boat, The Vixen, and Brandon had always enjoyed risky things like whitewater rafting. Both Brandon and Katie had gone shooting with Dad at the range. But Molly had spent most of her time at the mall, hanging out with friends and figuring out new ways to style her hair. She hadn’t been bookish, like Katie, or witty, like Brandon. She’d just been pretty, so she’d learned to capitalize on her looks. Boyfriends came and went, just like her dates did now, but no lasting connections were made.

  She supposed she had one talent—getting what she wanted. She nearly always did, when she knew it was something she had to have. More than once, her boldness and refusal to back down had pushed her on to success where others had failed.

  She knew she was getting close when she saw several bands of felled trees. Catching sight of Zane’s red truck, she pulled in behind it. A young man sauntered over to her door.

  “You looking for the boss?”

  The kid looked all of eighteen, a cocky grin on his dirt-smudged face.

  “I sure am. He’s expecting me.”

  “Molly, right?” He opened her door with a flourish. “I’m Trevor. Most of us are heading home now, but Zane will show you around. He’s just over that hill.” His gaze trailed down to her skirt and heels.

  Sensing he would offer to walk her to Zane, she smiled. “I’ll be fine. Thanks.”

  Trevor gave a brief tip of his hat and strode toward a small car parked nearby.

  Picking her way through brush and logs, Molly made her way up the hill. At least her calves would get a thorough workout in her heels. Topping the small rise, she paused to take a breath. When she looked up, a logger dipped his head at her, and Zane turned from his conversation with the man. His intense look melted into a quirked smile.

  She gave a quick intake of breath.

  Standing there in dirty logger boots, wearing bright orange suspenders over two Henley shirts, his sleeves rolled up to expose the blond hairs on his forearms, Zane Boone looked for all the world like what a man should look like.

  She returned his smile, trying to recover her poise. Zane ambled to her side as his logger friend left to gather up equipment.

  “What do you think?” Zane gestured around them.

  She propped one of her tired feet on a low tree stump, taking in the gaping spaces between the other stumps. The loggers had carved a passable dirt road for their larger machines, taking out bands of trees in the process. It looked stark and unnaturally empty.

  “Well, to be honest, it looks kind of strange. I hate seeing that many trees down.”

  He looked thoughtful. “I used to think that, too. I’d visit my dad’s sites and think how it looked apocalyptic, with trees strewn around and nothing but stumps all over the place. But thinning actually makes the forests healthier, taking out the smaller trees so the big ones can get stronger. Not to mention, it leaves less fuel for forest fires, if one should break out.”

  She nodded. “Makes sense, I guess.”

  He cupped a rough palm under her elbow, sending a little shiver through her. “Let’s head back. It’s getting dark and I don’t want to keep your mom waiting. Plus, I promised Lola I’d stop in tonight.”

  For one candid moment, his smoke-colored eyes met her own and revealed an undercurrent of worry. Although he hid it well, he was still thinking about the break-in at his house. And why shouldn’t he? If someone had attacked her in her own apartment, she would’ve broken her contract and moved out on the spot.

  She decided against asking how he was doing, because a man like Zane wouldn’t admit he was struggling. Instead, she simply started walking toward the car and said, “Sounds good.”

  The silence that fell between them seemed pregnant with unspoken words. Did Zane Boone ever open up to anyone?

  She was willing to hang around and find out.

  Molly rapped on the front door and Ace opened it, his short bangs standing on end. Apparently, Katie had been running her fingers through his hair again. After nodding at Molly, he clapped a brotherly hand on Zane’s shoulder. “Made a break for it, did you?”

  The two fell into easy conversation and Molly kicked off her heels before making her way to the couch. Her sister lounged in book-patterned leggings and an oversized oxford shirt that seemed to drown her. Probably Ace’s. She’d tucked a couple of chopsticks into her loose bun.

  Katie gave her a once-over. “Want to borrow a pair of jeans? That outfit can’t be comfortable.”

  “Just because I’m wearing a skirt doesn’t mean it’s uncomfortable,” Molly said.

  “Well, aren’t we snappy today?” Katie mumbled, turning back to the TV.

  Mom emerged from the kitchen, wearing her favorite yellow apron that said Make Me a Sunbeam. She gave Zane a big hug. “Lawsie, the way Molly described your injuries, we were afraid you wouldn’t get out of the hospital for a while. Thank the Lord you weren’t hurt worse. Little Lola needs her daddy.”

  Molly’s cheeks flushed. How was she to know that Zane would bounce back so quickly? Or had he? The way he’d winced when Mom hugged him showed he surely wasn’t fully healed yet.

  He grinned. “Thanks, Mrs. McClure. My parents were pretty worried, too.”

  “I’ll bet. You tell your momma and daddy hello from me. Now y’all come on in for some hot stew and pie. Then we’ll give Brandon a call.”

  The meal was uneventful, except for Katie and Ace’s undisguised looks of longing. Molly wished they’d just get married already.

  Mom stood to make the coffee, and Molly joined her to dish up the pie. The men started talking about weapons. Both Ace and Zane unsheathed and unloaded their guns and swapped. When Katie joined the conversation, Molly noticed the pleasant surprise on Zane’s face.

  Was that what he wanted? A woman who could handle a gun?

  “My ex wouldn’t even touch guns,” Zane lamented as Katie dry fired his gun.

  Molly sauntered up to his side, placing a dish of warm pie in front of him. The smell of cinnamon and peach seemed to loosen her lips.

  “Our dad used to take us shooting.” The moment she said it, Katie stared, and Molly could feel Mom’s gaze on her back. She had just opened the door for her sister to expose her as a blustering idiot. Her whole family knew she wasn’t the one who’d shot the guns at the range with Dad.

  Ace raised an eyebrow, a twinkle in his eye. Molly gave him a death glare, and he discreetly tucked into his pie.

  “I have an idea.” Zane focused on Molly. “I’ve been meaning to get away to my cabin, and what better time than this weekend? I have a shooting range up there and we could hike around, or I could take you out on my pond in my boat. It’s very relaxing.”

  Molly started shaking her head. She couldn’t think of anything less relaxing than spending hours shooting or hiking. Katie was shaking her head, too.

  Zane continued, as if musing to himself. “I’ve needed to take a break, you know? And after the break-in—”

  Ace interrupted. “Which we’re trying to get to the bottom of.”

  Zane nodded. “I know you are. But I don’t want Lola staying with me until you find these guys. I’ve heard that sometimes burglars re
turn to the same house.”

  “Sometimes, but I don’t think you need to worry,” Ace said.

  Molly cleared her throat. She hated to shoot down Zane’s invitation. “I don’t think…”

  Zane’s lips twisted downward and he dropped his gaze to the table as if waiting for a blow. He really did want her to come along.

  Inexplicable fresh hope infused her, one that laughed in the face of her sporty shortfalls. “I don’t think I could pass up such a fun opportunity. Count me in.”

  Three pairs of eyes shot dubious looks her way, but Zane seemed oblivious. “It’s a plan! Let’s do that Friday night instead of a date.”

  She ate a bite of pie and tried to look thrilled, but her mind was whirring. There wasn’t time for Katie or Ace to take her to the range to practice. She wished she’d paid more attention when Dad had shared shooting advice.

  But she was going to make this work. It was worth it to have Zane’s undivided attention at the cabin—at least for an hour or two, before he realized she was a total phony.

  Brandon Skyped in, and Molly relaxed as she saw her brother’s smile. He looked like he was sitting in his car, given the taupe upholstered headrest behind him.

  “Hey, guys. Who’s that?” Brandon jabbed a finger at the camera to point at Zane.

  Zane spoke up. “Hey, Brandon. I was a little behind you in school. Isaiah Boone.”

  “Dude! You’ve grown up! What’re you doing at Mom’s?”

  Zane glanced at Molly. “Um—”

  “Wait—you dating my sister, man?”

  “Chill, Brandon,” Molly said. She turned to Zane. “Big brother gets a little protective.”

  Ace nodded, as if he’d been there, experienced that.

  “Someone has to.” Brandon blew a kiss at the camera. “Hey Mom, love you.”

  Mom leaned in as if she wanted to give her son a hug. “I miss you, honey. When are you getting a break?”

  “I don’t know. Hey, could you pan out the front window so I can see the weather there? I miss having a proper winter out here in Arizona.”

  Molly obliged, walking toward the window and turning the laptop around. “You know it looks pretty bleak this time of year.”

  “Who has that sweet hybrid there in the driveway?”

  “Hybrid?” Molly lowered the computer and stared at the pale orange car that had parked directly behind hers. Zane only took a split second to move to her side. She could sense the tension radiating from him.

  The car door opened. Zane pushed her down in one swift move before dropping into a shooter stance, hand on his reloaded gun.

  Brandon’s voice screeched from the computer. “Whoa, hold up! I see you there in the window, dude. It’s me in the car! Surprise—I’m already home! Hey Ma, I hope you’re stocked up on Dr. Pepper!”

  7

  Zane drove toward Krista’s, musing over Brandon’s unexpected visit. Zane had never met someone with a personality so opposite his own. Where he was disciplined, Brandon seemed to have no boundaries. Where he kept his emotions tightly hidden, Brandon blurted out whatever he thought.

  It was refreshing, really.

  Krista had always been passive-aggressive, hiding her true thoughts behind half-smiles and rueful sighs.

  Funny how he was starting to see Krista in a whole new light. Molly was like a world unto herself, and she cast a very long shadow, whether she realized it or not. He reflected a moment, strangely unable to put his finger on what she had that so moved him. Obviously, she was gorgeous, but that hadn’t even played strongly into his attraction to her. Maybe it was her unaffected nature, her up-front truthfulness he admired. The way she gave him her undivided attention, as if she really believed he had something worthwhile to say.

  By the time he rang Krista’s doorbell, he was so absorbed in his contemplations of Molly, his “hello” came out stilted. Krista’s dark eyes flashed in irritation, but Lola provided a welcome distraction as she danced down the carpeted steps toward him. She wore mesh angel wings and a fluffy purple skirt over her pajamas.

  She fell into his open arms. “Ooh, Daddy. I was scared.”

  He wiped the warm tears from her cheeks. “I’m fine, baby girl.”

  As Lola launched into a detailed retelling of her “tough” day at kindergarten, in which her friend accidentally kicked her nose while dancing and her teacher made her write her name over because her L’s were backward, Zane felt a burst of fatherly pride. Lola was everything that was right in the world—carefree, imaginative, and confident of her parents’ love.

  When her energy finally lagged, Zane gave her a hug and Krista shooed her off to bed.

  “You seem happy tonight,” Krista observed.

  He knew she was probing, but he didn’t feel like explaining. It didn’t matter, because she rolled on without a pause.

  “Dr. Christianson and I have talked about your recent injuries. We both feel it’s safer if Lola doesn’t have visitation with you this month.”

  He leaned against the wall. “Of course. I was going to suggest that myself. I’m hoping the police—”

  She waved her hand as if his words were annoying pests. “Zane, you still aren’t where you need to be in terms of recovery.”

  “Recovery? I’m not an alcoholic or an addict, Krista.”

  She crossed her arms. “No, but you have PTSD.”

  “That doesn’t mean I’m not making progress.”

  Krista’s lips formed a tight line.

  Sudden weariness claimed him and he realized he’d overdone it today. He didn’t want to argue. “My parents will be glad to have Lola stay with them this month.”

  Her dark eyes glinted. “Only this month? Then back to your house?”

  He tried to read what she was thinking, but her displeasure repelled him like a force field.

  “Or until the police find the burglars,” he added.

  She nodded. “Mm-hm. Okay. I’ll work things out with your parents. Good night, Zane.”

  All the way home, he tried to understand how he had failed Krista, how he had turned her ardent love into the disapproval he felt every time he was around her.

  Trudging up the steps to his front door, he hardly had the energy to check things, but he turned on his phone flashlight and made a quick scan of the lock and windows. Everything seemed untouched.

  His spirits deflated, he dropped his clothes to the floor and tumbled into bed. As he dozed off, a vivid memory rose up and toyed with his mind yet again:

  He lay on the gritty rooftop in Afghanistan, the windowless compound in his sights. Through his scope, he watched his Infantry unit use a water charge to blow the mud wall that surrounded the buildings. Before the dust could settle, they breached the main building, moving inside in a quick, practiced line.

  The Marines were pushing through the area, hoping to funnel their primary target, terrorist leader Walid Habib, toward a kill zone at the town border, where the Abrams tanks and Bradley armored personnel carriers were in position.

  All too soon, a loud explosion tore into the air. His men rushed out, a smoke cloud trailing behind them. He honed his sight on the door, but it couldn’t penetrate the thick gray vapor huffing out.

  He counted helmeted heads…one, two, three and four, five, six, seven. The eighth man must be trapped inside.

  His spotter groaned as he followed the action with his binoculars.

  “Did they pop one of those Russian grenades, you think?”

  “Looks like it, with all that dust.”

  “Any chance of sniping one of them?”

  “Not unless they run outside where they’re exposed.”

  The ground unit had reconnoitered. Two Marines jogged toward the back courtyard and two pushed into the front door while the others held positions outside.

  A sole man stumbled out the back door, his hands held high. With his loose pants and tunic, he looked to be a native…until Zane looked closer at his exposed arm, which bore a henna marking of a snake entwined with
crossed swords—Habib’s personal calling card.

  He was looking at Habib himself. The Marines quickly pinned him to the ground, but they seemed to be more focused on whoever remained inside.

  They didn’t recognize the threat right in front of them.

  As most of the men pushed back into the building, one carrying a metal detector to find IEDs and weapons, Habib rolled over. The Marine who guarded him stepped closer, but he couldn’t possibly see the grenade Habib had rolled out of a fold in his tunic.

  Zane took the shot before the terrorist could pull the pin. The Marine stepped back, realizing what had happened.

  Pines, Zane’s spotter, rushed to his side. “What’s going on?”

  But Zane had no time to explain. The Marine had alerted his unit, and three Marines raced from the back door to join him. In his peripheral vision, Zane caught a slight movement by the front of the building.

  Scoping that area, he was confused to find no one standing near the front door or gate. All he saw was a small group of women and children who stood gaping at the ragged hole the Marines had blown in the wall. He scanned over the onlookers, but saw nothing that resembled a weapon.

  Suddenly, another grenade exploded outside the front door, causing the women and children to scatter. Zane couldn’t see what was going on as the Marines swiftly secured the front of the compound.

  The ground leader radioed him as the cloud dissipated. “Building is clear. We think two escaped and took one of ours hostage.”

  “Who’s missing?” How had they escaped his sights? He had seen no one running away.

  “Sitko.”

  Staying focused on the Marines and the compound, Zane flexed and relaxed first one foot, then the other. It was the only way he could dispel extreme distress without altering his position.

  Sitko was only twenty-two and was one of the cheeriest soldiers Zane had ever met. He was constantly joking and brought smiles into the most stressful situations. Zane had met Sitko’s mother before they shipped out and she had clung to her son like a lifeline.