Page 8 of One More Betrayal

“Because you’re a beautiful woman. And you live under the same roof as me. In his mind, there is something going on between us. He’s jealous. He wants what I have. I wouldn’t be surprised if he wants you to be his lover.” The harshness in Johann’s tone sends my gaze shifting from the breath-stealing sunrise to him.

I’m not sure how to respond to any of that. It is one thing to be friendly with Johann to gain information. It’s another to be that way with Müller.

“The man is ambitious and dangerous,” Johann says. “Never forget that.”

Yet another reason to forgo the plan of hiding the wireless set in Jacques’s barn. As it is, I will need to discuss the latest turn of events with the circuit leader when it comes to the current situation. I don’t want her showing up in the middle of the night and scaring Oskar, Margrit, and Sonja.

I look at Johann for a heartbeat, his concern and compassion weaving through me like silk thread. But at the same time, a wave of dizziness washes over me with the weight of his words.

“Thank you for the warning.” I push to my feet. “I should return to the house. My papa is probably up now, and he will be wanting to eat before he begins his work.”

As I approach the farmhouse, a military Jeep stops in front of it. I can’t see who is in the back seat, but that doesn’t keep my heart from stumbling over itself at one possibility.

The driver opens the rear door, and the loathed man Johann warned me about steps from the vehicle.

Major Müller.

4

Troy

June, Present Day

Maple Ridge

* * *

From the top of the cliff, I study the bruised sky above us. The wind picked up a short time ago, and the team doesn’t have long before the storm hits hard. If Garrett and I fail to get the father and his nine-year-old son up soon, they’ll be forced to stay on the ledge until the storm has passed. And by then, it will be too dark for us to get to them, and they’ll have to wait another night to be rescued. No one wants that, least of all the father and son.

I step into my climbing harness and make sure it’s secure. “Ready?” I ask my brother.

Garrett nods. “Ready.”

We double-check that our lines won’t fail us when we rappel down the cliff, and we get into position. “Okay,” I yell to the father and son. “We’re coming down.” The father is reclining with his legs stretched in front of him, his bent elbows propping him up. His son is huddled beside him.

The father says something to the boy. “Okay,” the boy yells up, waving his arm at us.

Garrett starts his descent first, with me close behind. Our rappelling partners keep an eye on our lines.

The wind is strong, but not strong enough to push me off-balance. It’s situations like this, with an approaching storm, when my years of climbing experience pay off—both recreationally and with the Marines.

It takes us a minute or two before we’re standing next to the two hikers. The father is flat on his back now, his son clutching his hand. My chest tightens at how scared the boy is, his face pale, body shaking. He’s the reason I volunteer with SAR. I grew up on these mountains. My grandfather taught me how to respect them and how to survive on them. Most of the kids the team rescues aren’t equipped to survive in these conditions like I am.

I kneel next to the boy and give him a reassuring smile. “Hey, Christopher. Everything’s going to be all right. I’m Troy. And this is my brother, Garrett.” I point to Garrett, who nods at him. “We’re gonna get you and your dad out of here. Do you think you can be brave a little longer? You’ve been doing a great job so far.”

The boy eagerly nods, his eyes wide with fear.

Garrett checks the father’s injured leg. The man is even paler than his son. Perspiration dots his forehead, betraying his pain.

“It looks like it could be broken,” Garrett says. “We’ll get you two out of here as soon as we can.”

I remove the walkie-talkie from my jacket. “It does look like the father’s lower leg is broken,” I tell Sheldon.

The rescue stretcher and another harness are lowered. Each second we wait for them puts us that much closer to the path of the oncoming storm. Each second racks up the tension in my muscles for the same reason.

“Garrett will take your father up first,” I tell Christopher. “Then you and I will climb up together.”

The boy’s face crumples, and my chest tightens some more.

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