Page 6 of Delta Force Defender

“On it, boss,” Blue said, in a way that had Isaac looking at him sharply. Sure enough, the ex-SEAL was exchanging a glance with Griffin that Isaac knew was as good as that text to Templeton.

He ignored that, too, because he could. Because Templeton wasn’t here. Templeton was tending to his family issues in the Lower 48 and wasn’t on hand to call Isaac out.

That meant Isaac could deliver another spate of orders without receiving so much as a raised eyebrow in return. Once he was done, he turned away, realizing as he did that Alaska Force was one thing. His fellow citizens, friends, and neighbors were another.

And it took him more effort than it should have to pull out that genial smile he usually wore for the public.

“You keep bringing your messes into this town, Isaac,” growled Otis Taggert, who ran the Bait & Tackle. He’d always made his dislike of the Gentry family well known, even way back when Isaac had been a kid here. Whether he disliked Isaac personally or lumped him in with Gentrys past was hard to figure. And tonight, Isaac cared even less than usual. “Where’s it going to end?”

“Thanks for your concern, Otis,” Isaac replied, managing to keep his voice amiable. He couldn’t say the same about his expression. “It looks like Caradine made it out.”

The scrum of locals got a little loud at that obvious slap, but Isaac didn’t take it back. Neither did the older man. And Isaac had to order himself to shift his weight, get out of a fighting stance, and run a hand over his face like he was a mere mortal instead of a highly trained piece of weaponry meant for war, not social interactions like these.

“Hero status can only go so far,” Otis said, not even pretending to keep it beneath his breath.

“I never pretended to be a hero,” Isaac retorted, another clue that he was maybe not operating on all cylinders, the way he would have been if this hadn’t involved Caradine. Since he’d been confounding Otis with a bland smile and no reaction for years now. “But I am a resident and a local business owner. So maybe don’t talk to me like I’m the enemy.”

“Gentrys have been here since the gold rush,” Madeleine Yazzie chimed in then, her red beehive trembling the way it usually did, even if tonight she was in her pajamas. Next to her, her on-again, off-again husband, Jaco, stood with his arms crossed, his usually dour expression aimed directly at the Bait & Tackle owner. “They weren’t Johnny-come-latelies like you, Otis, swanning in and acting like you own the place.”

“It’s not a competition,” old Ernie Tatlelik growled.

“It is to Otis,” Nellie Oberlin retorted in the same brisk voice she used to keep the rowdy patrons in line at the Fairweather, the only bar in town.

“If you’ll excuse me, I thought maybe I’d go look for Caradine,” Isaac heard himself say with far too much edginess and not enough of thatboy next door, aw shucksthing he’d been cultivating since moving back here. Something he’d probably regret when he recovered from this night and that call. But he’d worry about that when he found her. “Who’s missing? In case that part wasn’t clear.”

“You’re too much like your uncle Theo,” Otis complained, glaring at him as if he’d said he was off to take a nap. “Always more important than everyone else in the room.”

“What room is that, Otis?” Madeleine snapped at him. “That tiny little cabin in the woods where Theo lives, all alone, with nothing but his thoughts? Or that store of yours where you hold court over a kingdom of worms and flies?”

And as they all started sniping at one another the way only people with usually buried small-town grudges could, Isaac melted away, skirting around the destroyed café. He took a look at that side window and the tracks in the dirt two stories beneath it. Then he headed for the path that wound up the hill, leading away from town. Toward the hot springs where Jonas had lost Caradine’s trail.

As if summoned by the thought of him—which wasn’t outside the realm of the possible—Jonas materialized beside Isaac.

“Are you okay?” he asked. As if the question pained him.

And later, maybe, Isaac would think about the state he must have been in for his brother-in-arms to ask him a question like that. When they’d been neck-deep in justabout every slice of hell this planet had to offer and Jonas had never inquired into his well-being. Because he’d always assumed that Isaac had himself handled.

Isaac didn’t respond.

Jonas nodded, as if that was answer enough.

“Rory located a boat out in the sound,” he said instead, his voice sounding the way it always did. Dark and rusty. “No sign of Caradine, but we have eyes on her perpetrators.”

Isaac jerked his chin to indicate he’d heard. Inside him, the artillery fire shifted, turning into something like an earthquake.

He had another flash of her, naked and smiling, her clever face alight with mockery aimed straight at him. Listen up, Gentry,she’d said, with all that scornful haughtiness only she could make so hot.If you can’t pull it together, I’ll throw you out in the cold.

That had been their first night together.

Your problem,she’d told him a long time later,is that you like it when I’m mean to you.

But he’d been inside her, the only time she let him talk to her, and he’d pressed his advantage, the only way he could, until she’d shuddered and come apart.

Your problem,he’d replied, his mouth at her ear,is you don’t want to be.

He’d believed that until tonight.

“Keep me informed,” he told Jonas, who nodded again, then vanished.

---