spot on the back side of a distant, isolated island in the Alaskan Panhandle, was outfitted with enough tech to track his people wherever they found themselves on the globe.
“Report,” he said into his comm unit by way of an answer, the way he always did when a member of his team called in.
“There’s a fire,” Griffin Cisneros, known ice man and almost supernaturally self-possessed marine sniper, belted out. Sounding in no way self-possessed or icy or really like himself at all.
Isaac’s gut twisted. Because Griffin wasn’t on a mission. Griffin was supposed to be at home in his cute little house on the other side of the island in picturesque Grizzly Harbor, tucked up with his woman and enjoying the relatively mild June weather.
“Report,” he said again, though he already knew it was going to be bad. And worse, local. “Is it happening again?”
The tiny fishing village of Grizzly Harbor was supposed to be too far away from anything to attract attention. It was on a small island in a little-traveled part of Southeast Alaska’s Inside Passage, where nothing ever happened. Something Isaac knew personally and well, having grown up here.
But the past couple of years there’d been a little too much excitement in the middle of nowhere. It had even drawn down the attention of the Alaska State Troopers, who’d needed convincing that Alaska Force were the good guys. There’d been deaths, a mad preacher with a boatload of explosives, actual deployed explosives onshore and off, two kidnappings and a cult, plus acts of criminal mischief ranging from annoying to life-threatening.
Not exactly what Isaac had in mind. He’d chosen Grizzly Harbor as his base when he’d started Alaska Force because the only danger around was the great Alaskan wilderness and weather. He’d imagined it would serve as an excellent barrier between Alaska Force and the rest of the world, because that was what the great and glorious state of Alaska did by virtue of its location. Alaska was the Last Frontier and the ultimate geographic cure.
All outside shenanigans were supposed to be over now, six months after the last bout of excitement that had involved a high-stakes helicopter rescue of a boat on the cold Alaskan seas. On Christmas Day.
But he let that go. If it wasn’t over, they’d handle it. That was what Alaska Force did.
“Isaac.”
Once again, Griffin sounded completely unlike himself. It might have been terrifying if Isaac had been in possession of all the necessary information and could allow himself a response. Until then, he couldn’t let himself react.
But when his border collie, Horatio, sat up from his bed in front of the fire and whined softly, Isaac suspected that maybe he was already reacting.
“Isaac. It’s Caradine. Her place . . . the Water’s Edge Café blew up.”
Everything inside Isaac stopped.
Dead.
But he was entirely too well trained to surrender to it. Or to blank out or freeze as worst-case scenarios swamped him, one after the next, each more horrible than the last.
Griffin made a sound. It took Isaac a moment to understand it was his name.
“I’m on my way,” he said, and he sounded calm. Controlled and even, as befitted a man of his rank and position.
Good to know he could still make that happen when the world was ending.
Might have already ended, with him sitting out here monitoring things he didn’t care about across the planet while she—
But he locked that line of thought down, hard.
He went wide on the comm unit, barking out orders and rousing anyone who was on the island instead of out on a job. He was already moving, shoving his feet into his boots and then tossing himself out into the late-night blue of the June night. He was glad he was from Southeast Alaska, where the summer nights weren’t that full-on white midnight sun they got farther north, because the eerie half-light was more than enough to make him feel restless.
Though possibly that wasn’t what was clawing at him tonight.
The helicopter was already waiting for him when he made it to the launchpad, a ten-minute hike up from his family’s former fishing lodge, which currently served as Alaska Force’s base of operations. Tonight Isaac made the climb in approximately three minutes.
He nodded at Rory, the former Green Beret who was piloting tonight, and he was distantly aware that there were other people in the helicopter, but he didn’t speak.
Instead, he stared out at the dark, inky water and the lights from the lodge and the cabins as they