Page 210 of Heart of Frost and Scars

“You should not have involved the police.” He saws into the meat. “They will only slow things down.”

“The police are our best chance of finding Sirena.”

He sets down the knife, wiping his hands on a white towel, leaving streaks of blood. “The police are…bureaucratic. They follow procedures, protocols. If the woman I loved were threatened, I would cut down every person who looked at her. I would take matters into my own hands.”

This old guy?

“What are you suggesting?” I narrow my eyes. “Should I cut you for looking at her?”

He shrugs.

Sitka authorities are only involved in part of the investigation. They don’t know about the heart or threats to Frankie’s phone. They don’t know she murdered Denver.

I’ve been in contact with Wilson constantly, trying to glean the truth about Sirena. He swears she was fully vetted when he hired her a few years ago. He personally assigned her to my investigation when I was looking for Frankie.

He’s as shocked as I am by her confession about the anonymous client. That’s against his policy for obvious reasons. She may have compromised the entire investigation, my search for Frankie, and our ongoing hunt for the cabin.

“I’m saying…” Oliver meets my gaze, his wrinkled features cold and blank. “Sometimes direct action is more effective than lawful action. You have resources. Power. Use them.”

“I’m not my father.”

“No, you’re not.”

A chill runs over my scalp. There’s something in his tone, something I’m missing.

He returns to his cooking.

Before I can question him further, movement snaps my gaze to the kitchen window.

Outside, Frankie steps onto the patio, dressed in her running gear.

With summer drawing to a close, she runs the trails every day. I join her when I’m not on the phone.

Other than me, only a few of the guards can keep up with her.

Bending closer to the window, I scrutinize the guards hovering nearby.

Nope. She’ll outrun all of them.

Fuck.

I just came from the gym and still wear my workout clothes. I’m also exhausted and fighting a headache.

Doesn’t stop me from racing out of the kitchen to join her.

“Coming with me?” She stretches her calf.

“Wouldn’t miss it.”

We take off, jogging along the trails through the trees.

Her petite frame moves with power and endurance, her legs pumping furiously, three times as fast to keep up with my long-legged strides.

With the muscled weight she’s gained, her body is stronger and faster than ever, her figure both delicate and resilient.

She’s more beautiful than I’ve ever seen her, and that beauty comes from within.

I love to run with her just to spend time with her, to stare at her like a love-sick fool. But I also appreciate the shared silence, the rhythm of our breaths syncing with the beat of our feet on the earth.

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