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Raven

I had to leave for an assignment, so I missed the barbecue on Saturday. The guys filled me in on the warehouse fire—it was deliberately set. The doors had been wired with enough explosives to obliterate anyone within ten feet.

My heart dropped at the thought that Beatrice could have been among them. I needed to see her.

Before leaving for the firehouse, I called Mandy, and she eagerly jumped into the truck's passenger seat. She loved going places with me.

When I arrived, I hesitated, debating whether to get out of the vehicle. Then I saw her walking toward me. I opened the door, stepped out, and met her gaze. I didn't say a word—just nodded—then climbed back in, ready to leave.

“What are you doing?” she asked, stepping up to my window. “Is that all you wanted? A nod?”

What was I supposed to say?

“The guys told me what happened. I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

She studied me. “You came here just to see for yourself that I was okay. Why?”

I exhaled, gripping the steering wheel. “I don’t know. I just needed to see you were whole. Would you like to have dinner with me?”

Her expression softened. “I’d love to. My next day off is Thursday.”

“I’ll cook for you. I’ll pick you up at six—no, make that seven. If you want, we can spend the day together. Go for a hike in the hills. Or do anything you want.”

“I’d like that. I’ll be ready at seven in the morning. I love hiking.”

“Me too.”

For a moment, I considered reaching for her, pulling her close—but before I could, Beatrice closed the distance, pressing her lips to mine. That was all the encouragement I needed. I pulled her halfwas through the window, kissing her until we both had to come up for air.

“I’ll see you Thursday,” I murmured, brushing my lips against hers one last time.

Mandy pushed between us, making us laugh.

“I better go before your brothers come after me,” I said.

“Until Thursday,” she whispered against my lips.

I didn’t want to let her go, but I did, watching until she was safely inside. Then Mandy and I went shopping. I secured her service vest, ensuring no one would question her presence.

Thursday arrived at last.

I was up by five, so I took an early swim in the cold ocean, had my coffee, and dressed by six.

At six-fifteen, Beatrice arrived. “I saw you swimming, so I thought, why not check if you’ve had your coffee yet?” she said, smiling.

“I have. How about you?”

“I’m good. Are we taking Mike and Mandy hiking with us?”

“Why not? They’ll love it.”

“Mike will, for sure. He has more energy than any dog I know,” Bea said.

I turned to reply and hadn’t realized how close she was. Without thinking, I leaned in and kissed her. When her arms wrapped around my neck, I pulled her even closer. When I finally lifted my head, we exchanged soft smiles.

“I enjoy kissing you,” she whispered.

I brushed my thumb along her jaw. “I enjoy kissing you too.”

“Then we should do more of it.”

“Agreed.”

Reluctantly, I let go. “Ready?” I called for Mandy, and Mike was already waiting by the door.

As we loaded the dogs into the backseat and got into the front, I caught Bea watching me.

“Do you always carry your gun?” she asked.

“Yes. Always. You never know when you’ll need it. Carrying this gun has saved my life—and others.”

She nodded. “Good. I always carry mine too. I just didn’t want you to freak out if I had to use it.”

I grinned. “Duly noted.”

We hiked until the sun was high overhead. Eventually, Mike, all energy spent, refused to take another step. Finding a shady spot, we settled in for a break.

I dug through my backpack, pulling out water and snacks for us—and treats for the dogs.

Mike inhaled his snack in two bites, then tried to steal Mandy’s. One warning growl from her put an end to that.

We laughed as Mike whined dramatically, begging for Beatrice’s snack. She sighed, popping the last bite into his mouth. He didn’t even chew—just gulped it down whole.

Shaking our heads, we packed up and continued our hike.

That’s when we heard it.

Crying.

“That sounds like a baby,” Bea said, immediately heading toward the crying.

Sitting in a stroller was a small child, alone. We searched the area, calling out for anyone who might be with the baby, but no one answered. A diaper bag had been shoved into the back of the stroller, fully stocked.

Bea scooped up the child, soothing her while I stepped toward the cliff's edge. Mandy barked, her sharp senses picking up something before I did. She had found a small, winding path leading down the steep drop-off.

“Mandy, be careful!” I called after her.

I glanced at Bea. She was rocking the baby gently, her face tight with concern. The child was sunburned.

“I have a bad feeling,” she murmured.

“I do too,” I admitted. “One of her parents has to be down there.” I pulled out my phone and called for backup. It was a three-mile hike back to my truck, but I figured a helicopter would get here sooner.

Mandy returned moments later, holding something in her mouth. A phone. I took it from her and saw it was flooded with missed calls and messages. One message in particular caught my attention—it was from someone desperate. A husband.

I quickly replied, explaining what we had found. Seconds later, he responded: Where are you?

I sent him our location, and thirty minutes later, a man arrived on a dirt bike. He was still wearing a suit, his tie loosened and his face pale.

The moment he saw his daughter, his breath hitched. He snatched her into his arms, tears streaking his face. “I knew something was wrong. That’s why I came up here. Where is Jenny?”

“We think she fell,” I told him. “Mandy’s been searching. I have a rope in my truck three miles from here. If you can get it, I can go down and look for her. We’ve been calling out, but no one has answered.”

The man swallowed hard. “Jenny is deaf. She wouldn’t be able to respond.”

That changed everything.

“I’ll get the rope. Be right back.” He reluctantly handed his daughter to Bea and took off on his dirt bike.

Mandy suddenly darted toward us again, this time with something else in her mouth—a shoe.

Bea gasped. “She’s down there,” I said. “Jenny must have given Mandy the shoe as a sign.”

Just then, a blur of movement caught my eye. Mike. The big dog had wandered too close to the ledge.

“Mike! Get back up here right now!” Bea’s voice was sharp with panic.

Before I could react, she secured the baby in the stroller and sprinted after him.

“Bea, be careful!” I shouted.

She glanced back, flashing a confident smile. “Did I mention I’m a rock climber? And I’m pretty damn good at it.”

I still wasn’t convinced.

Mike, spooked by all the commotion, hesitated near the edge. “Mike, don’t move,” Bea warned. “Stay right there.”

The distant rumble of the dirt bike signaled the man’s return. “He’ll be here any second with the rope,” I told her.

Bea shook her head. “Mike is scared. He won’t do this alone. I have to help him.”

Mandy barked from below, her excitement cutting through the tension. Then Bea’s voice rang out. “I see her! Jenny is petting Mike!”

Relief flooded me. “Is she hurt?”

“She has a broken leg,” Bea called back. “She said she tried to climb back up to her baby but couldn’t.”

Before I could ask how she knew that, Bea glanced up at me and signed: We need to stabilize her leg before we move her.

I blinked in surprise. “You know sign language?”

Bea grinned. “Of course.”

Jenny’s husband shouted from above, his voice raw with worry. “How is she?”

“She has a broken leg,” I called back. “We need two sturdy pieces of wood to splint it before we move her.”

It took another forty minutes to get Jenny stabilized and lifted up. I carried her up the last stretch, passing her to her husband, who hugged her tightly, whispering words only she could read on his lips.

Just as I climbed over the edge, the helicopter arrived. We loaded the dirt bike into my truck, and the father drove their car, following us back into town.

I glanced at Bea as we unloaded the bike. “Good thing we decided to go hiking today.”

She let out a breathless laugh. “I was just thinking the same thing.”

I hesitated, then said, “How about you go home, shower, and then we’ll have dinner?”

She tilted her head, studying me.

I don’t know why I said what came next, but I did. “Or… you could shower at my place. With me.”

The moment the words left my mouth, I regretted them. “Forget I said that.”

Bea’s lips curled into a slow smile. “I don’t want to forget it.”

I stilled. “You don’t?”

She leaned closer. “No. I love your idea.”

Damn.

“You do?”

Her hands slid up my chest, her eyes dark with something deeper than amusement. “Yes, I do.”

Before I could say another word, she kissed me—slow, deep, and unhurried—right as the traffic light turned red.

When she pulled back, she whispered, “I want you to make love to me. I’ve wanted that since the moment I met you.” Her cheeks flushed. “I probably shouldn’t have said that.”

I swallowed hard, my heart hammering. “I like that you said it.”

Her fingers laced with mine.

“That means we’re thinking the same thing.”