Page 73 of If You're Reading This

As soon as they were outside, he turned toward her and pulled her into his arms. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

She nodded into his chest. “I’m fine.”

“I was so worried tonight.”

She knew Duke worried about her. She’d been through a lot—especially since someone had attempted to perform impromptu brain surgery on her last year. She was still recovering from that, but she’d made lots of strides

Their relationship had borne the brunt of some of that trauma, however. But there was no one else she’d rather have walking by her side after that ordeal.

She nestled farther into his chest. “That could have turned out differently. I’m so glad it didn’t.”

“I can’t stand the thought of you constantly being in danger.”

She shrugged. “I don’t look for it.”

“I know. But it always finds you.”

Duke was strong and tough. He’d been an Army investigator. When they’d first met, she’d called him G.I. Joe. But even tough guys worried about the people they cared about.

“I’ll be careful,” she promised him.

He said nothing, but she sensed he wanted to argue.

“I’m worried about Morgan,” she finally admitted.

“So am I,” Duke murmured. “We have to find her.”

She heard the resignation in her words.

They had to find her . . . even if it was risky.

Because that was just what they did.

CHAPTER

THIRTY-NINE

MARCH 27, THIS YEAR

Morgan stretched her stiff shoulders,wincing as the muscles protested after hours hunched over her laptop.

Outside her cabin window, twilight painted the snow in shades of lavender and blue—the kind of light photographers called “the magic hour,” though most failed to capture its ephemeral quality.

She’d been editing her photos all day, losing track of time until the changing light outside alerted her to the late hour.

A log shifted in the fireplace, sending up a shower of sparks that briefly illuminated the room.

Morgan paused, listening to the soft crackle of the fire. To the wind rustling through the spruce trees outside.

There it was again.

A sound that didn’t belong.

A faint scraping along the cabin’s north side.

Her pulse quickened as she set her laptop aside and moved cautiously to the window.

Pressing herself against the wall, she peered out at the gathering darkness.