“Kiana!” Brynn held her arms straight out from her sides and then brought her hands together at her stomach. “Come ‘ere, girl!”

At a second hand command, the dog skidded to a stop directly in front of Brynn. Brynn jumped and ducked back, knowing what was coming. Kiana shook, drenching Jim, and then she sat, her eager blue gaze on her master. Jim cursed at the unexpected soaking.

Good dog.

“I think you’re waterproof. It’s just a little more rain.” She scratched the dog under the chin, smiling as Jim gave Kiana a rough head rub with both hands. The dog pressed her nose against Jim’s leg, asking for more attention. Seeing her dog soak Jim cheered Brynn immensely, and their spat was forgotten. Almost.

“Rain doesn’t fall upward.” Jim brushed the dirty water off his cheeks.

An old Ford truck roared into the clearing and parked behind Brynn’s Nissan. Brynn watched Ryan Sheridan toss his battered cowboy hat on the seat, yank up his jacket’s hood, grab his backpack, and jog over to join their group, holding the forty-pound pack like it was a sack lunch.

He slung on his pack. “Sorry. Traffic sucked. Are we ready?” He nodded at the three waiting team members, his gaze eager. Enthusiasm radiated from Ryan. He was pumped for the mission. As usual.

Thomas shook his head, tipping it at the sheriff. “Collins hasn’t given the OK yet.”

Jim updated the late member on what they knew about the plane and its occupants.

Ryan’s eyes lit up. “A felon? Someone’s ass to haul back in cuffs. Excellent.”

Collins slapped his phone shut and marched back to the wet clique. Brynn eyed the tight muscle in his jaw and stiff set to his neck and knew he was furious.

“OK. Listen up. We’ve got a fed coming in from the marshals’ office. They say he’ll be here any minute, and he’s going out on the search and rescue with you guys.”

“What?” Brynn blinked.

“Bull-shee-it.” Ryan drew out the word into three syllables.

“Forget it.” Jim shook his head. “We don’t need some idiot who doesn’t know what the hell he’s doing out here. I won’t compromise my team’s safety or speed with a suit.”

Collins went on as if he hadn’t heard, “We are to extend every courtesy...”

“Courtesy? It’s not a fucking tea party. Do we have to take this guy on the mission? What if he can’t keep up?” Thomas’s angry voice packed the intensity of a lion.

Collins firmly met the livid man’s gaze. “I told them this wasn’t how we did things out here. But he insisted. That was the head honcho at the Oregon US Marshals’ office, and if he says he wants a man on our team, then he’ll get a man on our team.” Collins blew out a harsh breath. “I’m outranked here. He says the marshal is physically fit and won’t have a problem keeping up. Claims the marshal competes in triathlons. I don’t have a sufficient reason to turn him down.”

The search and rescue quartet stood silent.

Jim spoke first. “You know there’s more than just fitness involved out there, Collins. It can be a mental nightmare. Especially if the crash site is an ugly one. You’re telling me I’m taking a rookie into this shitty weather to find a plane crash that has a convicted criminal on board? Maybe a murderer?”

At the word convicted, Ryan’s gaze met Brynn’s and an eager grin stretched across his face. Adrenaline junkie. She narrowed her eyes at him and he winked back with those damned gorgeous lashes. He had a face high school girls would pin on their walls. Adult women too.

“Marshals aren’t wimps. I think he can handle whatever gets thrown at him. And that plane’s carrying a pair of blameless pilots and at least one other agent who deserve our damnedest effort.” Collins spotted Ryan’s grin. “No hotdog stuff. You’ll probably be disappointed anyway.”

Translation: a plane crash in the Oregon Cascades meant death.

“This is a big-ass waste of time,” Thomas said evenly. “No one can survive a crash out there, and chances are we won’t find the plane until we get some air support. It’s going to be like hiking in circles in the Arctic.”

“Fine. You sit on your big ass.” Brynn glowered at him, her voice sharp. “I won’t wait around when there’s a chance that someone’s hurt out there and my help could determine whether or not they live. That’s not how I’m programmed. If there’s a chance I can help, then damn it, I’m going in. And I don’t care if it’s a convict or your grandma. It makes no difference to me.”

The plinking sound of rain on their outdoor gear was the only noise in the forest clearing. Thomas had looked down at Brynn’s words, his boots shifting in the mud.

She softened her tone but maintained the urgency. “We won’t know till we get in there. We have to try. The marshal on the plane and those pilots might still be alive.” The men all nodded, purpose spreading across their faces.

Jim looked to Collins. “So where’s our fed at?”

Alex Kinton pulled his SUV to a lurching stop, choosing the smallest puddle to park in, and then sat and absorbed the gloomy tableau before him. Wet, foggy, cold, and wet. A close-knit circle of red parkas turned his way. Even from fifty feet away he could see and feel the tension in the postures.

He wasn’t welcome.

He didn’t blame them, but he also didn’t care.

He had a plane to get to.