Page 20 of One Last Storm
Wilder’s dogs ran over to their bowls, hungry to slurp up the water and food.
Shep stood back, even as Wilder hung up the harnesses. London came to stand beside him. “You okay?”
He glanced at her. Frowned.
“I mean—did you talk with Moose yet?”
He sighed, ran a hand behind his neck. “No.”
Oh.
“Why?”
“I dunno. He seems…well, I guess he was just worried.”
Shep nodded, watching as Everest examined his dog’s feet before unlatching them.
She blew out a breath. “I just need to know you’re okay with this move.”
He cocked his head at her. “Having second thoughts?”
“No.” At least, she didn’t think so. “But leaving Air One... this team is family, right?”
And it had been for him long before she crashed back into his life with her Bratva baggage and Black Swans covert jobs.
He reached out for her then, and pulled her to himself, and oh, see, this—this is why she couldn’t live without him. Sturdy, his arms around her, and he smelled of pine and snow and survival.
Happiness.
Crack.
The barn door opened—cold air and Axel’s grim expression. London’s stomach dropped.
“Moose needs us. Now.”
The snow snuck in, found her bones as they hurried across snow to the community center. Moose paced in a small office. Behind him was an old ham radio setup. He was gripping the back of his neck, knuckles white.
London exchanged glances with Shep. Whatever news Moose had gotten?—
“Tillie’s in the hospital,” he said, looking up at their approach. “Flynn’s with her.”
London stilled. “What?”
“That’s all I know. All Echo knows. Dawson called it in about three hours ago.”
No wonder Moose’s face looked ash-pale.
“Any idea what—” Shep started.
“No details. Just that she needed medical attention and they’ve got her stable.”
A moment, and she even heard her heart thump.
“I’m going back. Tonight.”
“Moose, the weather—” London started.
He held up his hand. “I don’t care about the weather. My wife is in the hospital. I’m going home.”
