His chest tightened at the image and his fingers twitched as he headed back toward the plane. He’d almost lost her before he even knew her.

He glanced at his cell and nearly cheered out loud at the two bars of service. He’d checked the phone several times that morning, looking for pockets of service but no luck. He immediately dialed Collins.

“Kinton?” Collins immediately answered.

“Guess you figured out this number doesn’t belong to Whittenhall,” Alex replied.

“Yeah, that became pretty clear once we met. What’s going on up there?”

“We’re OK. Could you understand Ryan the other day? The pilots and marshal didn’t make it. Besand is still alive here somewhere. We’re trying to find him. Also we found Tyrone and Liam Gentry. Tyrone’s got a bad head injury. There’s no way he’s hiking out.”

Collins’s reply was full of static.

“Crap. I’m gonna talk fast,” said Alex. He rattled off what Jim and Ryan had decided were accurate GPS coordinates of the plane. “I need you to look into Whittenhall. I think this flight change was set up to let Besand escape upon landing. I think Whittenhall engineered the whole thing, but I don’t know why. It’s got to be for money.”

“Whittenhall? He’s on the take?” Collins’s voice was clear.

“You got someone who can do some research? I think Whittenhall was blackmailing Besand or the other way around.”

“I know the perfect person to look into that,” Collins said. “We’re gonna get some birds up there as soon as the weather clears a bit. You guys—”

The call was dropped. All signal bars lost.

Alex groaned and watched his screen for a few moments, walking in circles, holding the phone up. He felt like a cell commercial. He gave up and stayed low, moving silently—make that crunchily—back in the general direction of the plane. He didn’t look for Thomas. He had a hunch the man could be invisible whenever he pleased. If he didn’t want Alex to see him, then he wouldn’t. Knowing the man was watching his back felt right. Stopping behind a fir, he scanned his surroundings.

Nothing.

He could have been the only person for fifty miles.

How rapidly his priorities had changed. He’d butted in on the hasty team with the single goal of hunting Darrin Besand. Now his priority was the safety of six other people.

There had been no tracks outside the plane this morning. No one could have guessed that four men had shown up in the middle of the night with one of them dragged the whole way on a tarp.

It was utterly silent. He wondered if any wildlife was watching him. Like a bear. The thought of a bear possibly close by bothered him more than the presence of Besand. He knew Besand’s mind; he didn’t know the inner workings of a bear’s brain.

Aim for the brain.

He stepped out from the tree, took a deep breath, and pushed through the snow, wishing he was back in the plane exchanging jokes with Ryan.

Alex had spotted Thomas listening a time or two to their banter, an almost wistful expression on his face. What would it take to get that guy to loosen up?

His lips twisted.

Knowing Thomas, he probably had some fantastic repertoire of clever jokes that could knock everyone’s socks off, but he’d never share. The Alaskan often sweated inside the little plane, and Alex had realized with a shock that the guy was claustrophobic. How in the hell was he handling so many people in so little space? It was probably a remnant of his capture. Alex had watched Thomas mentally work it off, his lips moving as if in a chant and his eyes focused in the distance. What did he say to himself?

Alex had seen Brynn watching the big guy. Assessing, studying, and caring. She’d spoken softly to Thomas a few times. The conversations were too quiet to hear, but Alex knew she was questioning his comfort. Thomas would listen, then shake his head. He didn’t like help from others, but there was always a respect for Brynn in his eyes. For Jim too. Ryan usually caught a few glares or eye rolls from Thomas, but Alex felt the big guy genuinely liked the younger man. Maybe even envied his happy-go-lucky attitude.

Alex did.

Alex made a mental addition to his list of self-improvements for when they got back to the real world. Loosen up. A lot.

Right now he needed to concentrate on finding a piece of scum in the woods. He ducked under a snow-laden branch, feeling like he was playing cops and robbers in his backyard as a kid. Samuel had always been the robber and Alex the cop. Their fenced backyard had been huge with great trees for hiding and building forts. Alex had wanted to be a cop when he grew up, except for a short period when he was nine and he’d wanted to be a fireman. Then a house caught fire on his street and he’d been traumatized by the absolute destruction and smells. He’d returned to his dreams of being a cop.

He’d always wanted to bring down the bad guy.

Gee. I’m living my dream.

But he’d never dreamed he’d be freezing his ass off while doing it or camping in half a plane that’d run out of protein bars.

His stomach growled. They’d be fine without food for a few days, but he guaranteed everyone was going to get real crabby.

He felt the small disturbance in the air by his face before he heard the crack of the gun. He dropped to his stomach, his mouth filling with snow. His body sank into the snow, but he kept his head up slightly as he scanned around him.

Besand? Thomas? Thomas wouldn’t shoot at him, would he?

Alex couldn’t tell the direction of the shooter. The crack of the gun had echoed several times through the forest, almost sounding like several shots. His best guess was the shooter was at two o’clock.