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“Not since he told me their ETA.”

“He doesn’t think the mom knows anything about English’s past, but he suspects the stepdad knows something and has been keeping it to himself. We need to question him without the women around. If he knows something helpful, he won’t tell us with them listening.”

Knowing Randall Dunlap’s background in law enforcement, Jackson wasn’t surprised to learn the man may have suspicions about his wife’s ex. Jackson doubted Dunlap knew the whole truth, but he couldn’t rule out the man knew something useful, even if he didn’t realize its relevance.

“Leave it to me. I have an idea of how to get him alone,” Jackson said.

“I want in. We can let Ben and Easton watch the women. I’m tired of waiting around for a lead to drop out of the sky. I want to find the bastards and show them when they come for one of us, they come for all of us.”

Luke’s temper was legendary, but the venom dripping from his words went deeper than Jackson had ever heard before. He understood it all too well.

“I can’t believe Gish was attacked at our bar, and we can’t find one lead as to who did it.”

“I did find one thing. I was going to tell you when I got to the cabin. Ben found something in English’s box that he keeps in the closet. It was a picture of him and another guy I’ve never seen before. I did a reverse image search and came up empty. So I ran the photo through some age progression software and tried the image search again. I got a lead. His name is Garth Penroy. He’s retired from the FBI and living in Mobile.”

Mobile was a good five-hour drive from Fire Creek. They couldn’t afford to waste time getting there if this failed to give them a lead.

“I called him and spoke to his wife. She hung up on me when I told her I was calling about Gish. Makes me think she knows something or her husband does and she’s trying to keep us away from him.”

“It feels like a long shot.”

Luke sighed. “It’s the best we’ve got. Damn, Jackson, if English ever wakes up, I’m going to give him an ass chewing for keeping us in the dark on all of this.”

“He had his reasons,” Jackson returned though he shared Luke’s sentiments.

“You mean reason, and she’s sitting right there at our cabin. How’s it going babysitting the ice princess?”

“Ice princess?”

“Yeah,” Luke drawled. “She was cold as ice when she got to the hospital to see Gish. She doesn’t care that he’s in a coma, and she’s the one in charge of his care. It’s bullshit.”

Jackson thought of the woman who appeared so tough to the world but had broken down in his arms last night. “She cares, but she’s been hurt by him. The English we know is not the one she knew.”

“I’m starting to think we don’t know him either. Secret daughters, unknown enemies coming after him, him shutting us out. We’re a family, man, and he shit all over it, like we don’t matter. How can you not be pissed?”

“I was. I am. But I’m starting to believe nothing is as it seems, and until we start finding the truth, we can’t take anything at face value.”

“Holy shit. She got to you, didn’t she?”

Jackson scowled. “Who are you talking about?”

“The ice princess. Tell me you didn’t tap that last night, and now you’re on her side?”

“No! You’re talking out your ass. No, I didn’t have sex with her, and there aren’t sides. Dammit, if there were, I would be on English’s. Nothing says he has to tell us anything because we made some makeshift family, and for all we know, he chose the ice princess to make his medical decisions to save us from having to. I’m telling you there’s more we don’t know than we do, so stop jumping to conclusions like some old gossip spreading shit about her neighbors. I need your head in the game and not up your ass.”

He heard the click and swore under his breath. When Luke got angry and out of control, his go-to reaction was avoidance. When he was a kid, he ran away more times than they could count. In this case, he hung up on Jackson. He had a hard time dealing with the world when it overwhelmed him with problems. Luke would cool off on the drive to the cabin, and he would never talk about his reaction again. It may not be healthy behavior, but Jackson had never known his brother to be any other way. This time, he couldn’t fault his brother for lashing out like he did. Everything they were learning about English warped their view of the man who molded them into the men they were today.

And then there was Reagan. The ice princess who wasn’t as cold as she appeared. He remembered how she felt against him as if she was still there in his arms. She had melted against him as if she was made specifically for his embrace. Her hair smelled of vanilla and was soft as it brushed against his arm. Her body was lean with subtle curves and toned muscles. Her eyes could be dark brown and unreadable one minute and full of amber fire the next. Her skin was smooth with a hint of a tan.

Jackson shook his head to stop his thoughts from going down that road. Reagan was off limits, and the sooner he convinced his body of the fact, the better off he’d be. He pushed his feet forward to make another perimeter sweep, hoping to distract himself and avoid more alone time with his mentor’s daughter.

Chapter Thirteen

Jackson was right.

As much as Reagan hated to admit it, his idea of using paper and pen was exactly what she needed. The old school tools unlocked her creativity. Though she couldn’t quite remember where she left off with her book, she was able to move forward with the plot, creating twists and clues which carried her closer to the end. Her hand was aching, and she’d had to stop a few times to massage a cramp from the spot between her thumb and forefinger. But she felt good to have made progress amidst the chaos in her life.

“I should have guessed you would find a way to write.”