Page 10 of Gilded Locks
“I didn’t feel like digging a hole through two feet of snow.”
His brother’s molten eyes glared at him. “You let her in? A perfect stranger?—”
“She was soaked to the bone. A minute longer, and she would have died out there.”
“That’s not the point. She could be dangerous.”
Ash chuckled. “I think we can handle her, Hunter.”
Stone rolled his eyes. Might as well get it all out in the open now. “She’s also been consuming our food and stealing our clothes.”
Ash squinted at the lump of fur surrounding her face. “Is that your old fur coat?”
Hunter growled.
“Just be glad she’s sleeping in my bed. I’ve got the situation under control.”
The three brothers stepped back from the monitors in contemplative silence, each watching the woman sleep and wondering what the next move might be. She’d kicked away some covers, and the sable coat had fallen open to reveal the elegant line of her thigh beneath Hunter’s oversized sweater. The cascade of her hair spilled like gold, catching candlelight.
“She’s exquisite,” Ash said quietly, his voice carrying that dreamy quality that meant fantasies were crystallizing.
Hunter grunted in agreement. “Beautiful women are dangerous.”
“No, not her. She looks like a fallen angel,” Ash argued. “She’s just a lost little lamb who wandered into a bear den.”
Stone glared at Ash. Not a lamb. She was his rabbit. “She wasn’t aimlessly strolling about, Ash. The little zayka was desperate for shelter.”
“An angel in a storm. Let’s wake her up.”
Hunter caught Ash’s sleeve. “Angels don’t commit breaking and entering.” His black eyes were fixed on the monitor. “Angels don’t steal.”
“So maybe she’s not an angel.” Ash’s smile could have cut diamonds. “Maybe she’s something far more interesting.”
Stone switched to thermal imaging replay, showing them her arduous approach to the lodge. “She was nearly dead when she arrived. Hypothermic. Starving. Desperate.”
“Running from something,” Ash observed, back to clinical detachment. “Or someone.”
“Which means desperation drove her actions.” Hunter cracked knuckles, the sound similar to breaking bones. “Desperate people make mistakes.”
“Like trespassing on property belonging to men who always collect their debts,” Stone agreed, leaning against the console with deceptive casualness.
“So we agree,” Ash said. “Violating our sanctuary without invitation means one thing and one thing only. We aren’t going soft.”
“Agreed.” Hunter’s arms bulged as he crossed them over his chest.
Stone glanced at her defenseless form. Her breathing had finally found a peaceful rhythm, and tension no longer pinched her features. “So what’s our response?”
Hunter’s answer dropped like an edict. “Wake her up. Extract information about her identity and purpose. Then decide whether she lives or disappears.”
“We could contact the authorities,” Ash suggested without much conviction. That wasn’t how they operated on The Island.
Stone’s laughter roughened with disbelief. “And reveal what? That someone breached our private club? The one that doesn’t exist in any official capacity?”
“We handle this ourselves,” Hunter decided with finality. “Like we handle everything else that threatens our domain.”
Pragmatic as always, Stone pulled up the Doppler. “The storm won’t break for hours. She’s not going anywhere regardless of our intentions.”
“Who says we want her to leave?” The question came from Ash, and both Stone and Hunter turned.
