Page 17 of Tango (Hunt Brothers Search & Rescue #4)

Alice

“ N ice work.” Tucker leans back in his chair and glances around his monitor to where I’m sitting at a plastic fold-up table.

I shut my laptop and grin. “Couldn’t get in?”

“Nope. His company should be covered now.” Tucker stands and rolls his shoulders. “One problem down.”

After I started my program to prove the surveillance video of me murdering Ramiro is a fake, we started immediately working on protecting Frank Loyotta’s company—something we’ve been at for nearly three hours as we worked to bury everything we can behind a firewall that is invisible to anyone who isn’t looking for it.

We just have to hope that whoever looks through the system won’t be expecting it.

The information available is all basic—administrative employee information, their books, all that.

We were careful not to hide anything that would make it look as though there was information missing.

But the victims Find Me has rescued, the names of their rescuers, and anything else that should be protected are hidden.

My stomach churned when I scanned the ages of some of the victims they’ve rescued from traffickers over the years. If I could do anything in this world with the snap of a finger, it would be to put an end to that horrific nightmare so many suffer through.

“I know we’re having dinner in an hour, but—coffee?” Tucker’s question pulls me from my thoughts.

I check the status of the video decryption, frustrated that it still hasn’t finished. “Yes. Please. A vat of it.”

He smiles. “You got it.”

I follow him out of the room, and Tango raises his head to look at us. “ Hier, Tango,” I say, using the German word for ‘here’ since that’s what I’ve noticed Tucker using.

The dog jumps up and happily trots over toward me as I follow Tucker out into the hallway.

“Do you speak German?” he questions as he puts grounds into the basket of his coffeepot. “I heard you call Tango.”

And then, I realize that Tango is a service animal, and we’re not supposed to command someone’s working dog. “Oh, sorry. I shouldn’t have called him. He’s a working dog?—”

“No, it’s fine. I was just surprised you used the command. Wasn’t sure it was because you’ve heard me use it or you actually speak German.”

“Fluently,” I reply. “I took it in high school, then again in college. After I graduated, I spent a summer in Munich with my parents. It was a dream trip.”

“Munich is gorgeous.”

“You’ve been?”

He nods. “A few times. Once was an extended layover, once was for a job, and the third time was by accident.”

“How do you accidentally end up in Germany?”

He laughs. “It’s a long story.”

“We have time.”

Tucker presses a button then turns to face me. “I jumped out of a plane at the wrong time.”

“I’m sorry—you what? ”

He grins, and my stomach does that ridiculous little flip it does whenever I see his dimples. “We were training, and I was supposed to be dropping into Salzburg. The coordinates were off, though, so I missed the jump and ended up in Munich.”

“I cannot even begin to understand one’s desire to jump out of a perfectly working plane.”

He chuckles. “It’s a skillset I hope to never have to use again. How about you? Aside from speaking German—anything random you like to do?”

“I’m an excellent yarnist.”

“Yarnist?”

I laugh. “Crochet. I love to crochet.”

“Crochet? As in a hook and yarn?” He snaps his fingers. “I get it now, yarnist. Cute.”

“It was something my mom taught me when I had trouble sleeping. The movements soothed my nerves. After that, it just kind of became habit. While I was waiting for a program to run or watching a video, I’d crochet. There was one year I made an obscene number of beanies.”

Tucker laughs, and my own smile spreads. “That’s amazing.”

“Maybe when all of this is done, I’ll make you a beanie as a thank you for clearing my good name.”

“Maybe.” His smile falls just a bit, as though he didn’t want to be reminded that we’re only together because of a false murder charge. The coffeepot beeps, so he retrieves two mugs and sets them down on the counter before filling them up. “Do you take anything in yours?”

“Milk and honey if you have it.”

“Honey?”

“Don’t come at me, mayonnaise and ketchup.”

“Hey, you said it was delicious.” He hands me a glass jar with amber honey.

“Doesn’t mean it’s not weird.” I lift the wooden lid, which has a honey stick attached, then drizzle it into my coffee before mixing it up. “This looks delicious. And incredibly fancy. Mine typically comes in a plastic bear.”

He chuckles. “It’s from our bees.”

I offer him the jar. “Your bees?”

He nods. “We have twenty-two hives here on the property.”

“You are living the dream, Tucker, do you know that?” After putting some milk into my coffee, I offer him back the gallon. “Is that from your cows too?”

Tucker snorts. “No. It’s from the dairy farm on the other side of town. We do grow our own vegetables, and all the meat we eat is raised here on the ranch.”

I continue staring at him. Not because I doubt what he’s saying but because I have apparently stumbled into my dream life.

My parents and I always talked about how badly I wanted to leave the city and homestead.

They, unfortunately, don’t share the same fascination with country living as I do, but that never stopped them from sending me the occasional real estate listing for land in California.

Land that was way out of my price range, of course.

“What?” he asks.

“Nothing. It’s just like I said; you’re living the dream.” I take a sip of my coffee, savoring the honey-and-milk-flavored caffeine jolt as it dances on my tongue. “This is delicious.”

He eyes my mug and the container of honey on the counter.

“Okay. Fine. You tried mine, I’ll try yours.

” He sets his mug down, adds some honey to it, then retrieves the milk from the refrigerator.

As he adds it to his mug and stirs, I slip the gallon back into the fridge, then stand there, waiting for him to try it.

He eyes it in what is probably the same way I eyed the mixture at the café earlier. Then he takes a drink. A few seconds pass with his expression unreadable. “That is really sweet.”

I laugh. “You can add less honey next time. But it’s good, isn’t it?”

He takes another drink. “It’s good.”

I beam at him, delighted that I was able to get him to try something new too. “The program should be done in the next half hour or so, but I would love to get outside for a bit if that’s okay.”

“Absolutely. I can show you a little more of the ranch if you’d like. Then we can swing over to my parents’ house for dinner.”

“That sounds awesome.” I take a drink of coffee. “Do you have mugs that travel well?”

“This is the main horse barn,” Tucker tells me as we step inside a large red metal barn. The horses that are inside immediately call out and stick their long faces over the gates. My heart somersaults with joy.

Literally my dream.

“Hey there,” I greet the first horse as I run my hand over her midnight-colored face.

“That’s Midnight, my sister-in-law Kennedy’s horse.”

“Fitting name for a pretty—girl?” I ask, glancing at Tucker for confirmation. He nods. “Very pretty girl,” I coo again then continue moving down the aisle. A dark brown horse sticks its face out as I pass, so I pause and run my hand over the white star on its forehead.

“That’s my horse, Jax.”

“Hi, Jax, it’s nice to meet you.” He snorts in response and bumps his nose into my arm. “I think he likes me.”

Tucker clears his throat. “Yeah, I think so too. Uh, so are you hungry? I can smell the brisket from here.”

“Same.” My stomach growls. “And yes, very hungry. I know we ate only a few hours ago, but it feels like it’s been forever.” I pet Jax again, then slowly turn and make my way back down the breezeway, noting the empty stalls. “Where are the rest of the horses?”

“Either being ridden or out to pasture. We have the utility vehicles we use daily for just getting to and from our houses, but unless it’s a big job, we utilize the horses for everything that doesn’t require a tractor.”

“How many horses do you guys have on the property?”

“Twenty-seven.”

“That’s a lot of horses.”

“We rescued most of them. Horses that were deemed a lost cause or were so badly abused they could barely be handled. A good portion of them came from slaughterhouses.”

“Slaughterhouses? That’s horrible!”

“It is. We try to save as many as we can. A lot of the ones we’ve saved are on other ranches or in rescues around the country.”

I stop in my tracks and stare at him. “Really?”

He nods. “My oldest brother, Bradyn, is great with them. He and Kennedy have kind of taken over that portion of the ranch.”

“Kennedy is his wife?” Tucker nods, and we begin walking again.

“Wow. Tucker Hunt. A hero of men and horses.”

“I do what I feel God calling me to do. He gets all the glory.”

“Amen to that. It’s really great what you guys have going on here,” I tell him as we step out into the fading sun.

“We love it.” He shoves his hands into his pockets as we cross the gravel driveway that separates his parents’ home from the main barn. He drove me all around the ranch, including some of the pastures where the cattle are kept.

I’ve seen gardens, chickens, the beehives—it’s all so amazing. And even as much as I love technology, I’d happily step away from it to be in a place like this. Then again, Tucker hasn’t had to give it up. Maybe there’s hope for both someday.

We’re just heading up onto the porch when a truck pulls into the drive.

A tall, muscled man with dark hair and bright hazel eyes climbs out of the driver’s side.

He moves around to open the door for a petite blonde, and I’m captivated by the beauty of both of them.

The man is a Hunt brother, there’s no doubt about it.

Even if I hadn’t done my research on the family, I would’ve recognized him as one.

They all share certain ruggedly handsome features and dark hair, though this man’s hair is a bit longer than the others. Based on what I dug up about the family, this is Bradyn Hunt, the eldest brother, and his wife, Kennedy.

She offers me a bright smile as Bradyn opens the back door and lets his dog jump out. “You must be Alice,” Kennedy greets.

“I am.” I shake her offered hand. “And you’re Kennedy.”

“I am,” she replies. “Which means you’ve done your research and already know my husband.” Bradyn and his dog climb the steps.

“I do. Nice to meet you, Bradyn Hunt.” I offer him my hand.

“You too,” he replies. His voice is slightly gruffer than Tucker’s, his expression too. I get the feeling that Tucker is the more relaxed of the brothers, and I honestly can’t wait to meet the rest to prove that hypothesis one way or the other.

Two down, two to go.

“Is this—Bravo?” I ask, hoping I’m right on the phonetic-alphabet naming. When I say his name, the handsome German shepherd looks over at me, ears perked.

“It is,” Bradyn replies.

“You’re a handsome boy too,” I say to the pup, who wags his tail so fast his entire body shakes alongside it.

Tango jumps forward, clearly jealous of the affection Bravo is getting, and the two start wrestling.

As they’re running around chasing each other, a UTV drives up and parks alongside the truck.

A large dog jumps out of the back and joins the fray as another Hunt brother—this one Elliot—climbs out, his baseball cap on backward.

A woman with fiery red hair climbs out of the other side, and the two link hands as they head up the porch.

“This is Elliot and his wife, Nova,” Tucker tells me.

“It’s nice to meet you both,” I greet. “I’m Alice.

” I have to actively fight against the urge to step back just so I can stare at the three of them side by side.

These brothers were undersold by their files.

These men are straight warriors. Like the kind I’d see in a movie, planning an all-out assault on a compound where the odds are stacked against them.

“You too,” Nova says with a friendly smile.

From what I learned about the family, I know she’s a former detective with Dallas P.C.

and now works alongside the brothers in their company.

Most of the missions she does are with her husband Elliot.

Which, even given the nature of their business, is super romantic.

“Alice,” Elliot greets. “I hear we’re trying to clear you of murder.”

“Elliot,” Nova scolds. “Sorry, he doesn’t have much tact.”

I let out a light laugh. “He’s not wrong. I’m working on shredding the false video they released. I have faith it will all come to light. Just a matter of when.”

Elliot offers me a nod, and we all turn as Dylan pulls up to the house in a black truck. He and Delta jump out. Honestly, he looks more relaxed than any other time I’ve seen him as he makes his way to the porch. Is it because his brothers are here?

“Got that fence patched,” he says. “Riley’s getting cleaned up; then he and Jules will be over.” Dylan turns to me. “Alice.”

“Dylan.”

With a final nod in my direction, he heads into the house.

“He’s a bit on the quiet side,” Kennedy tells me.

“So I’ve noticed.”

“Shall we head inside?” Tucker asks, clapping his hands together. “I’m starving and would love to con Mom into a taste-tester’s bite of banana pudding.”