Could they tell her knees were about to give out?

Ryan gave a grim smile, slowly shaking his head. “I don’t know how you do it, Brynn.” He blew out a tense sigh and dug his GPS out of his pocket.

Alex had been quiet since the river, but Brynn had caught him staring at her a few times. Sometimes with confusion, sometimes with anger. Understandable after what she’d put her team through. She was still vacillating between terror and disgust herself.

But his confusion told her Alex wasn’t the unfeeling, silent soldier who’d first joined their team. His emotions had been thrust out in the open along with everyone else’s.

He’d acted without thinking of his own life.

She briefly closed her eyes and saw his determined, furious expression as he yanked at her jacket on the bridge. He’d literally shocked her into moving. She’d already accepted that she was headed for the water. Why had he risked so much for two people he barely knew?

And he’d demonstrated no aftershocks. No unsteady legs or breathlessness from adrenaline. An untypical reaction to nearly dying. Was it his marshal’s training? Or didn’t he care that he’d nearly become a Popsicle? He’d been more upset that she’d turned into a statue.

Alex’s hair was black and his skin was a light tan color that came from genes, not the sun. Under his jacket and layers of pants, she couldn’t get a look at his body, but something told her the physique was rock solid. She’d heard marshals had to work out daily and meet rigorous physical requirements. She watched the lean muscle flex in his neck and jaw as he turned his head toward her and guessed he was older than her twentyeight years. Ten, maybe even fifteen years older. About the same as Jim.

“I still don’t get why anyone volunteers for this shit.”

Brynn didn’t think Alex meant anyone to hear him as they trudged through the trees.

She dug deep for a lighthearted tone to answer his rhetorical question.

“For the fun and games.”

He looked over his shoulder and gave her a pointed look. “No, really. What keeps you going out time after time?” His eyes were a cool gray that made her cheeks heat oddly as he looked at her. He’d rattled her during their introduction that morning. The pleasant rush of blood in her head during his stare had surprised her. In a good way. The other men had fumed at the length of Alex’s look, and she’d rolled her eyes at their protective testosterone. They had done a dozen rescue trips together, and now her team had become surrogate fathers.

She let her thoughts wander over the rescues she’d done, grateful for the distraction. Nothing glorious. Nothing newsworthy. Not like those two men who found the seventyyear-old grandmother who’d been lost in the wilderness for ten days. Everyone had assumed she was dead. But the men had wanted to look one more time. On their own time. And found her.

But that incident reflected the heart of her own motivation.

She could make a difference in an impossible situation.

Convincing Alex Kinton that she liked what she did wasn’t going to be easy. Contempt for the outdoors oozed from him. He’d been keeping his mouth shut about the weather and woods, but everyone could read it in his eyes.

“People need help. I like to do it, and I believe I do it well. I might be the reason somebody survives. That is incentive enough for me to put up with any weather or discomfort. And sometimes we have a lot of fun.”

“Like today?” More sarcasm.

“It hasn’t been so bad.”

His stunned gaze shot to her eyes, the water incident clearly in his mind.

She ignored him and continued, “There’s something about being out here with these guys. There’s an adrenaline rush and camaraderie that you can’t find anywhere else. Getting tired just makes us goofy. We rely on each other to stay sane and that leads to ridiculous games, stories, and challenges. Trying to keep each other from total boredom and worry is a challenge. What do you do for fun?”

He was quiet for a second. “I write software in my spare time. Some computer games. Some security programs. I have a knack for it, and it’s a good side business.”

She waited for him to continue, but he said nothing else.

“That appeals to me about as much as cross-country skiing probably would to you.”

He gave her a half smile. “Cross-country skiing? You mean jogging on skis? I’ll pass. I like to downhill ski. I don’t mind a little snow for that, the rush and speed is totally worth it. And I like to run, but not in the rain or snow.”

“And you live in Oregon?”

“My gym has an indoor track.”

“Running around in circles, staring at the same plain walls. Joy,” she teased. She liked the light banter with him. It lightened his cheerless eyes.

“Gives me time to think. Develop game programs in my head.”

She rolled her eyes. “Dear Lord. You’re lucky you ended up out here. This adventure is going to show you how much is missing in your life.”

His eyes almost twinkled. “Adventure is Pirates of the Caribbean. This is more like watching an endless documentary on making concrete while I’m tied to the chair.”

Ryan and Jim looked back as her laugh rang through the snow.

“Alex Kinton.”

“Alex Kinton? He’s out with your team? And he told you I sent him?”

At Whittenhall’s shout, Patrick worried about the marshal’s blood pressure again.

Stewart, the younger agent, whipped his head in their direction, his cell conversation arrested at Kinton’s name. Whittenhall glanced at Stewart and roughly gestured for him to wrap up the call. Stewart nodded and refocused on the cell. Patrick saw Stewart swallow hard as his eyes darted from the media to the perimeter of sheriff’s deputies.