Page 68 of Operator
“Dean? It’s Cal.”
My brows knit together, and I come to a standstill in the driveway of the cabin. I don’t see any sign ofthat woman, but I have a feeling she’s there. And when I got my hands on her…
“You there?” Cal asks.
“What do you need, man? I’m busy right now.” To be honest, I don’t harbor any hard feelings toward the guys, but the past is the past, and I have no intention of dragging any of it back up.
“Just to talk. It won’t take long,” Cal says.
“Fine, then get it over with.” Snow crunches under my boots as I begin to make my way down the driveway. I think the curtain flutters, but it could have been a draft. “I’m in the middle of something.”
“It’s about Ryan Tate,” he says, which distracts me from the cabin long enough to tune back into the conversation. “And my brother.”
“Wait. What happened with your brother?” There’s a loudthunk-ing sound from inside the cabin. The space between my shoulder blades begins to itch. I draw out my Glock just in case.
“We think he knew something about the night Tate died. We don’t know for certain, but he was killed for what he knew.”
Thethunkcomes again. “I’m sorry to hear that, Cal, really, I am, but what does this have to do with me?” I flick off the safety and edge around the side of the cabin.
“We need your help.” My brows raise up into my hairline. Cal? Asking for help? Maybe this is hell, and it has frozen over.
Then, a woman screams, and I break out into a run.
“Cal, I’m gonna have to call you back.”
“You okay?”
“Yeah, but if this woman isn’t in trouble, she’s about to be.” And then I hang up the phone.
Continue the First to Fight Series with AVIATOR!
BONUS EPILOGUE
GWEN
The beach stretches as faras the eye can see. It’s not much to write home about—Hurricane Michael wiped out most of the grand hotels and restaurants that used to line the shore, but the sand is bone white and the waves are turquoise blue. The sun is high and bright, and the sky is clear in all directions. You can’t ask for much more than that. Jewel-colored umbrellas and beach towels dot the beach. Several drones and kites pepper the sky.
I relax back onto my beach towel and close my eyes. Salty air kisses my skin and fills my nose. I couldn’t be more content. “I’m glad you could come down with us. It’s beautiful here, but it’s much more fun with a friend.”
Peyton sighs from her place beside me. Her hot pink, barely-there bikini draws the eyes of a bunch of teenage boys playing volleyball close by. Ford glares at them and they scram. “We are happy to come visitanytime you want. You live in paradise now. I’m jealous. I may try to convince Ford to move here, too.”
Ford snorts beside us, and I crack open an eye to share a covert grin with Peyton. I get the feeling Ford enjoys his solitude in the mountains. As nice and beautiful as the Florida beaches are, I doubt she’lleverconvince him to leave them for long.
“Good luck with that,” Cal says from the waterline where he’s tossing Violet into the air. Her sunny smile and cheerful cackles light up the whole afternoon. “He’ll never leave Windy Point.”
“You got that right. Too many tourists,” Ford says with a frown.
“Baby, you run a vacation lodge,” Peyton reminds him with bubbling laughter.
“So?”
“Your whole business is tourists.”
“Exactly,” Ford says, like it explains anything at all.
Peyton rolls her eyes. “Whatever. I’m just glad I talked you into a vacation at all.”
“We should be trying to find James,” Ford says. “Not getting a tan.”
