Page 35

35

Jake

Every great spy movie starts with a war room.

For us, it’s the Ice family kitchen—minus the lasers and British accents, plus a few mugs of strong coffee and a whiteboard that still says “don’t erase” from last year’s turkey brine calculations.

At the center of it all stands my dad, pacing like he’s got a headset on and a tactical satellite feed beaming into his skull.

"Should I be taking notes?" Aunt Evelyn asks from her perch at the kitchen island, her voice honey-sweet but her eyes sharp as flint. She's been "visiting" for over a week now, conveniently inserting herself into every family discussion.

Dad's jaw tightens slightly. "This is just family brainstorming, Evelyn."

"And I'm not family?" She presses a manicured hand to her chest, the perfect picture of wounded dignity.

"You know what he means, Mom," Sadie mutters, looking uncomfortable as always when caught between his mother and the rest of us.

Cousin Sadie's scrolling through her phone with practiced boredom, but I notice how her thumb pauses whenever Dad mentions Davidson's name. She's paying more attention than she wants us to think.

“Alright,” he says, slapping a laminated zoning map onto the table. “Team, welcome to Operation Snake Oil.”

“Snake oil?” Emma deadpans.

“It was either that or Operation Dirtbag,” Blaze says, grabbing a Sharpie and scrawling a cartoon mustache onto Davidson’s photo. “But that felt too respectful.”

I chuckle, but my heart’s still riding high from last night. Piper curled up in my arms, flushed and breathless from everything we didn’t say but definitely felt. I should be thinking strategy, but instead I’m remembering how she looked in the bath—slick skin, glassy eyes, legs tangled in mine.

Blake nudges me. “You’re doing it again.”

I blink. “Doing what?”

“Piper-braining. You’ve got that glazed-over look like you’re watching a lingerie commercial in church.”

“Shut up.”

“Love looks good on you,” Blaze adds, smirking. “Makes you stupid as hell, but still.”

“Focus,” Dad snaps, though he’s clearly fighting a smile. “Let’s get back on track.”

“Snake Oil has branding power,” Emma says, sipping from her oversized mug. “Very retro villain. It pops.”

“We are not naming this operation like it’s a Mission: Impossible reboot,” Blake mutters. “We’re dealing with real property fraud here, not staging a cattle heist.”

Dad ignores the bickering and points to the area in question—a stretch of pasture Davidson is trying to claim with a conveniently ‘revised’ property line. “He’s hosting an open house this weekend. That means permits, press, and most importantly—lies. He’s gonna pitch this land as development-ready, and I guarantee you, he’s gonna fake or fudge at least three legal facts in the process.”

Sean clicks his pen. “So what’s the play?”

I lean forward. “We infiltrate.”

The room goes still.

“Yes,” Sean says. “We record him misleading buyers, we call him out in front of the planning commission, and we blow up his entire scheme.”

“And we’re gonna do it,” Blaze says, “with disguises.”

“Disguises?” I raise a brow.

Blake grins. “Well, Davidson knows most of us. Sean can’t show up without getting recognized in five seconds.”

Sean crosses his arms. “You wore a Halloween wig last year that made you look like a discount Thor.”

“Which is why you should wear it,” Blaze shoots back. “Reverse psychology. Who’d expect a fake real estate investor in a party-store mullet?”

“I’d rather set myself on fire.”

Jack holds up a hand. “Focus, geniuses. One of you is going undercover to Davidson’s open house. You’ll pose as an out-of-town buyer, ask the right questions, and catch him lying on camera.”

“Yes,” Blaze says, grinning. “I can be a silent investor from Paraguay. My name is Javier and I only communicate via text-to-speech.”

“No,” I cut in. “But yes to the general plan.”

I uncap a marker and circle the open house site on the map. “I show up as a potential buyer—Jake Cooper, private investor. Maybe I bring Blaze as my finance guy. We keep the questions legal, pointed, and casual. We get him on tape saying something that contradicts his filings. Emma edits the footage. Sean leaks it to the county commissioner.”

Emma lifts her mug. “This might be the dumbest plan we’ve ever had. Which means it’ll probably work.”

Dad nods. “We’ve got three angles: the legal documentation, the county zoning committee, and the PR war. I want us hitting all three at once.”

“Like a triple threat,” Blaze says. “Land. Law. Legacy.”

“No,” Blake mutters again, rubbing his temples. “You cannot brand this.”

“Ice Storm Protocol is still available,” Sean offers with a straight face.

“Blaze,” Dad says, “you’ll be in charge of the tech. Body cams, discreet audio, whatever we can get cleared.”

“Already borrowed a nanny cam from Nash,” Blaze says. “It’s shaped like a pen. And it works. I tested it on Violet. She told it three secrets and offered it a Cheerio.”

Emma snorts into her coffee. “Perfect. She’s more trusting than I am.”

“Sean,” Dad continues, “you’ll coordinate with Commissioner Hayes. Get a meeting on the books after the open house, armed with whatever we catch.”

Sean nods. “Hayes hates Davidson. Should be an easy win.”

“Emma,” Dad says, “you’re cataloging all the property records, aerial maps, fence line photos, and water rights. Cross-reference it with whatever bullshit Davidson claims at the tour.”

“Already started the folder: ‘Davidson Lies, Receipts Attached,’” she says.

Blake sighs. “I’ll prep the legal contingency. Just in case we need to escalate.”

“And you,” Dad says, turning to me, “are the bait.”

“I prefer ‘undercover operative,’” I say.

“You’re a baitfish with nice hair,” Blaze says.

So dramatic," Evelyn sighs, examining her nails. "Jack, have you considered just selling that parcel? It's hardly worth all this... espionage."

The room goes silent. Even Sadie looks up from her phone.

"Not an option," Dad says flatly.

Evelyn shrugs. "I'm just saying, Davidson made a generous offer. That money could help with—"

"How do you know what Davidson offered, Aunt Evelyn?" Blake interrupts, his voice suddenly sharp.

A flicker of something—alarm?—crosses Evelyn's face before she smooths it away with a practiced smile. "Oh, everyone in town is talking about how generous he is with his offers. You know how people gossip."

I exchange a glance with Blake. That offer was confidential—Dad hadn't even told all of us the exact figure.

"Maybe we should discuss this later," Evelyn says, sliding off her stool. "Sadie and I have lunch plans anyway. Don't we, darling?"

Sadie pushes off from the doorframe with a shrug. "Whatever."

As they leave, Dad waits until the front door closes before lowering his voice. "As I was saying. This stays between us. No one outside this room needs details."

"You think Aunt Evelyn's talking to Davidson?" Emma asks, her voice barely above a whisper.

Dad's expression darkens. "I think we need to be careful who we trust right now."

Blake nods. "I'll start documenting who knew what and when. Just in case."

"Good," Dad says. "Now, back to the plan. Jake, are you with us?"

I ignore him, tapping my phone screen. Piper still hasn’t texted. She said she’d call after her shoot this morning, but it’s radio silence. I tell myself it’s no big deal, but my thumb keeps checking the lock screen every five minutes.

Dad catches me. “She’ll call,” he says simply. Then adds, “Wear something with a collar to the open house. Snake oil types trust men with ironed cuffs.”

I chuckle. “Got it.”

Dad watches us all like a proud, mildly horrified general. “Three days. That’s all the time we’ve got before Davidson files the next set of plans. Let’s make them regret ever trying to muscle in on Ice land.”

Blaze raises a hand. “Okay, but real question. Iceland? Isn’t that like… a continent?”

Emma doesn’t even look up from her tablet. “No, genius. It’s a country. Greenland is the icy one, Iceland is the green one. Try to keep up.”

“That sounds made-up,” Blaze mutters.

Sean smirks. “Just like your GPA.”

Everyone laughs—except Dad, who sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose like he’s wondering how he ended up with this particular lineup of adult children.

But the plan is set. It’s wild, possibly illegal, and absolutely Ice-family certified.

As the meeting breaks up, we scatter into our assignments—Sean heads to make some calls, Emma to scan documents, Blaze to test spy gear on the chickens outside.

But I linger, leaning on the porch railing. The sun’s low in the sky, spilling golden light across the pasture. In the distance, Violet’s playing with Pokey, shrieking as he chases her in circles.

Dad catches my arm. “Walk with me.”

“Sure.”

“You good?” Dad asks after a minute.

“Yeah.” I pause. “Just a bit distracted.”

He leans on the railing. “You know your mother used to call me a genius when I got too smart for my own good. Usually right before I made a terrible decision.”

I snort. “You trying to tell me something?”

He shrugs. “I’m telling you this Davidson mess matters, but so does what’s right in front of you. Don’t lose track of it.”

My gaze finds the horizon, but in my mind, I see Piper—flushed, laughing, curled up in my bed like she belonged there all along.

“I’m not,” I say quietly. “She matters.”

“Then don’t let her go.”

I nod, the weight of his words settling deep in my chest.

This isn’t just about fencing or zoning battles anymore. Davidson wants to claim our land, but he’s also trying to unravel our name, our legacy. That’s not something you let happen.

Not on my watch.

And especially not while I’ve got something worth protecting.

Because this land? This family?

Now it includes Piper too.

And that means Davidson’s about to have a very bad week.