Page 1 of Cold Foot Komodo

Chapter One

“You’re going to ruin your whole life.”

Sasha bit her bottom lip to keep from popping back at her mother over speakerphone. Instead, she took a steadying breath and squinted at the road sign ahead. There weren’t a whole lot of road signs in the small town of Darby, Montana, and they were pretty small compared to the bigger city signs Sasha was used to. GPS was telling her to turn right on one of these streets, but even the GPS voice seemed kind of lost—she kept changing her mind on directions and rerouting Sasha.

“Mom, I’m just pulling through town. Can I call you back?”Never.The unspoken last word sat in her mind. Never. She wished she never had to call her back again. Her mother was a splinter on a good day, and a pain in Sasha’s ass on her bad days.

Today, it seemed, was a bad day.

“You’re already there? Seriously? Sasha! Why didn’t you tell me this was a for-sure thing? You just told me and your father you were moving last night! And over the phone!”

“Well, I was driving last night.” She took a right and hoped for the best. “Look, Mom, everything is okay—”

“The hell it is! I can tell she’s rubbing off on you.”

“Timber should be rubbing off on me,” she snapped. “She’s good, Mom. She’s happy with her husband, work is going well for her, she’s stepped into a good leadership role—”

“With a bunch of criminals! Oh, don’t think I don’t know where Wreck got his shifters. I did my research, and I know Timber was in Alaska when Cold Foot Prison was broken into. I have been tracking her phone.”

“You’re stalking Timber?”

“She’s my daughter. It isn’t stalking.”

“It doesn’t matter if you are related to her. That isstalking, Mom. You don’t like her. You pray for her downfall. You aren’t monitoring her because you care. You’re scrutinizing her life hoping to find flaws. Grow up. I’ll call you when I call you.”

“Sasha!”

She hung up fast before that battle-axe could get another word out. Mom called back three times in a row, but Sasha knew her mom’s temper. She would be screaming now. The text messages coming through one after the other would be in all-capital letters, too.

Sasha heaved another sigh just to release the tension in her chest. Bright side to moving all the way to small-town Darby, Montana—her mother couldn’t just show up, or manipulate Sasha’s life anymore.

And that had been the point, right? One of the big points? To start over?

She’d grown stagnant in her job, and bored in her life. Her little old dog had passed away and she was alone in her apartment now. Her family life felt like quicksand, so yeah, she’d wanted to start over. With Timber and her husband. And also their brand-new Crew of criminals?

Gah, maybe Mom was right. Maybe she was ruining her life, but it was her life to ruin.

She was running half an hour late, on account of one of her tires had been losing air the entire drive here, and she kept having to stop and refill it. Her nerves were making her jittery. If Mr. Henderson, her new landlord, left without giving her the keys, she would have to figure out how to track him down in an unfamiliar town. A quick glance at the GPS said she was just a couple minutes away from the house she was renting by the month. She’d left herself room to back out of a lease in case this really didn’t work out. She’d also kept her options open on going back to her old job at the only hospital she’d ever worked for.

If Bitterroot Health - Daly Hospital didn’t work for her, she could always go back to her old life.

Sasha had an out. She had made certain she wouldn’t be trapped in this decision.

“Turn right on Sylvie Way,” the GPS instructed her.

She steered the new truck she’d bought for her new life down Sylvie Way and to the correct house number.

The small rental home looked very different from the pictures online. The grass didn’t seem to have been cut all summer or fall and was terribly overgrown, and was covered with a thin layer of winter snow. One of the shutters was hanging on by one loose nail, almost touching the scraggly landscaping. The roof had seen better days, and was a mossy-green color around the edges.

There was a man standing in front of the house, but he was unexpected too. She’d talked to Mr. Henderson several times, but he’d sounded like an older gentleman. This man was tall and built, and had short, brown hair, with no gray that she could see. He was staring right at her, his head cocked, his hands shoved into his jeans pockets. He pulled a set of keys out and held them up.

Right. She huffed a relieved sound. He had the keys, she wasn’t too late.

She pushed open the door and waved. “Hello!” she called as she tramped through the front yard. And tramp she must, because the sidewalk was nowhere to be found under the overgrowth. “I’m Sasha.”

The man wore a rather dour expression. He nodded once and handed her the keys instead of shaking her offered hand.

Right.

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