Page 26 of Tango (Hunt Brothers Search & Rescue #4)

Tucker

T he front door opens, and my heart leaps when Alice steps inside. She looks exhausted, but when she sees me, she smiles. And I don’t miss the way her entire expression lights up when she does. I’m in deep.

“Hey,” she greets.

“Hey. Good day?”

“A great day, considering.” She takes a seat on the couch beside me.

She’s close enough that her thigh brushes against mine. I clear my throat. “I take it you had fun then?”

“I did. Kennedy and Nova are great. Then I spent some time with my parents.”

I’d known where she was because I’d checked security camera footage when the sun was starting to sink and she still wasn’t home.

Home. When did I start thinking of this as her home? You’re treading dangerous waters, Tucker Hunt.

“Awesome. I’m glad you had a good time,” I reply then shift my attention back to the Bible in my lap.

Whenever I struggle, it’s where I run for help.

The lighthouse guiding me home when I’m in troubled waters.

I’ve read the full Bible cover to cover at least a dozen times—and then some.

But I always find something new whenever I open its pages.

Until today. Though, to be fair, that’s entirely because I’m not focusing. Mainly because the woman beside me has been on my mind for every moment of every day since the second I saw her staring up at me through that broken basement window.

“What book are you reading?”

“Psalm 3.”

“‘But You, O Lord, are a shield around me; You are my glory, the One who holds my head high. I cried out to the Lord, and He answered me from His holy mountain.’” She tilts her head. “I know that one. Question is, what are you crying out for?”

I push up from the couch and set my Bible aside. “It doesn’t matter.”

“It does matter. Look, we’re sitting around, waiting for Kara to say something that will give us proof as to who’s behind the setup, so it’s not like we don’t have time.”

“I don’t have time for this conversation.” My tone sharpens because we’re getting way too close to me coming clean about everything I’m feeling.

“Why?” She gets up and follows me into the kitchen. Frustration ebbs at me. Why can’t she just drop it?

Anger gets the best of me. “Because you’re a client, and discussing my personal life is not relevant to this case.

No matter how nosy you are about it,” I snap, and the moment the callous words leave my lips, I regret them.

She’s lost her two closest friends and had her entire life turned upside down, and I’m so wrapped up in my feelings about her that I can’t even respond respectfully.

Alice crosses her arms. “Fine. Understood.” She turns on her heel.

“Alice, wait?—”

She whirls on me. “I’m not unaccustomed with the idea of lashing out to protect secrets.

I practically trademarked the idea. You want to keep your personal life private?

Fine. I get it. I’m a case—a client, as you so eloquently put it.

We’re not friends. I’m not crashing in your spare bedroom because I want to be here; I’m here because I have to be here.

Thanks for reminding me of that.” She turns on her heel again and marches down the hallway.

I groan and run both hands over my face. Way to go, Tucker.

My cell rings, so I withdraw it, so frustrated with what just happened that I don’t even check the readout. “Hello?”

“You need to get Alice out. Now,” Dylan says, his tone rushed. “Pack light. The driveway is blocked, and you’re going to have to ride out.”

“What do you mean?” Adrenaline pulses through my system. It’s nearly dark. Why are they here now?

“You’ve got a team of tactical officers headed this way. Gibson called to warn us, said he couldn’t reach you on your cell, but they have a warrant for her arrest.”

“Just hers?”

“Apparently, though I imagine your name will be added shortly. They’re on their way, Tucker—get her and get out.” He hangs up the phone, and I rush down the hall toward the spare bedroom.

“Alice, we have to go, now.”

She rips the door open. “I’m not interested in going anywhere with you.”

“Then feel free to wait on the porch for the tactical team that’s on their way. That way, they don’t kick in my pretty front door.”

Her eyes widen, and she pales. “What? They’re coming?”

“Yes. And unless you want to end up in handcuffs, we need to go—now.”

“Okay.”

“Shove whatever you need into a backpack, and let’s go.” Without waiting for her response, I turn and rush toward my hall closet. Ripping the door open, I withdraw my go bag.

It stays packed with essentials, spare rounds, protein bars, two life straws for water filtration, a medical kit, a fire starter, and thermal blankets, as well as some freeze-dried food packs and other miscellaneous supplies.

After that, I grab my radio and toss my cell phone onto the couch. The radio will reach the end of the property line, then I’ll need to find a burner phone to make contact.

By the time I’ve done that, Alice comes out with a small backpack over her shoulders. Eyes wide, she looks genuinely terrified. I certainly can’t blame her. The same people after her now are responsible for two deaths already—and who knows how many others.

Someone beats on the door. Knowing it’s Dylan, I don’t bother to check.

“How did we not know this warrant was coming?” I ask him.

“No idea, but they have it. Gibson called Beckett, and she’s looking into it for us. It really doesn’t matter though because they’re coming for her.” He hands me a black phone. “I bet she doesn’t even make it to a jail cell.”

The thought terrifies me. “I can’t take anything they can track.”

“They won’t trace this one,” he says. “It’s a spare I keep.” He pauses, and that familiar haunted look returns to his gaze. “Just in case.”

I shouldn’t be surprised that Dylan has a burner in his possession, but I’m definitely grateful for it. “You’re not coming?”

“Not this time. It’ll raise suspicion if I’m not here too. I’ll contact you as soon as the coast is clear. Only had time to saddle one horse. You’ll have to share. Ride out, get to the safe zone, and I’ll get in contact with Jesper and have him arrange something to get you out.”

“Got it. You know what to do with my computers?”

He nods. “I’ll get it done.”

Dylan’s not great with physical contact, but I pull him in for a hug anyway. “Love you, brother.”

“Love you too.” He pulls away, then steps aside as I rush out onto the porch, Alice on my heels.

My boy Jax is waiting, saddled, with saddlebags on his back.

“Food,” Dylan says. “Mom ran outside and shoved it into the bags while I was on my way here.” His phone rings, so he puts it on speaker. “Yeah?” he asks.

“They just turned onto the drive,” Elliot says. “Bradyn is intercepting them to buy time, but he won’t be able to delay them long.”

“We’re on our way out,” I tell him.

“Good. Stay safe.” The call ends, so I cross over toward where Jax is tethered and unwrap the reins before wrapping them once around the saddle horn.

“Give me your backpack.”

She does as I ask, so I use a cord to secure it to the saddle bags while keeping mine on me.

“You climb up first,” I tell her.

Without hesitating, Alice slips her boot into the stirrup and climbs onto the animal’s back.

I climb on behind her, wrapping one arm around her waist, the other gripping the reins.

I can’t even process the emotional turmoil sitting so close to her will throw me into because my only thoughts are about getting her to safety.

I look to Tango, who’s sitting on the porch.

Without knowing what’s coming, taking him with me is a risk, but I don’t like going anywhere without him.

When he’s not there, it feels like a part of me is missing.

But if we end up caught and taken to jail, they won’t hesitate to turn him over to animal control. “Keep Tango with you, okay?”

“I will,” Dylan replies as he crosses over to place a hand on Tango’s collar so he can keep him from following us. “Go. Now.”

With one last look at Dylan, I apply pressure with the heels of my boots to Jax’s side and click. I don’t turn around when I hear Tango’s panicked whine, though it breaks my heart.

I cling to Alice, and she holds onto the saddle horn with both hands as we race back behind the house and into the trees as fast as Jax can take us. I avoid the gravel, since the ground here is strong enough that it shouldn’t show hoof prints.

I’ll change course at the creek just in case, but my hope is we’ll have enough time and distance that they won’t know where to start looking for us.

We ride for just over three hours, putting as much distance as we can between us and the main part of the ranch. After crossing the creek and heading in the opposite direction, then switching back and correcting course, we’ve finally arrived where we need to be.

It’s situated at the property line between the Hunt Ranch and the Johnson’s place—a neighboring ranch family who is less delightful than acid rain. But they keep to themselves and will never willingly let anyone search their place—police included.

According to a text I got from Dylan an hour ago, the federal agents who showed up are still on the premises, searching each and every one of our houses, including the cabins that belong to our ranch hands.

They tried to question both Jemma and Fred—even threatened to arrest them if they didn’t cooperate—but one phone call from Beckett Wallace, a no-nonsense attorney who has come to our rescue more than once, and they backed down.

For now.

I slow Jax down then stop him completely and climb off, holding him as Alice climbs down and stretches her legs.

“That was intense. I don’t know how people did it back when cars didn’t exist.” She gently pats Jax’s shoulder. “You did so good, boy.”

“We’ll camp here tonight. Shouldn’t light a fire just in case, but we should be safe.”

“Should be?”

“If they scan the ranch, looking for thermal signatures, we’ll be found.”

“Great.” Alice reaches into the saddlebag and withdraws a bottle of water. She tosses one to me then opens the other and pours it into a collapsible bowl Dylan must have slipped into the bag as well. She fills it with water and offers it to Jax.

Another reason to adore her. That she’d tend to animals before caring for herself just shows how absolutely selfless she is.

“What’s next? You said camp, but after that?”

“Dylan can’t risk calling Jesper while the police are there. So he’ll likely wait until the coast is clear. Then we can arrange to meet him somewhere down the highway. He’ll pick us up, and we’ll be able to get out.”

“But then what? I can’t keep running forever. I won’t. This has to stop. One way or another.”

“We’re going to have to change up our strategy.”

“Which means?—”

The answer is one I wouldn’t have considered until now, because it breaks at least two dozen laws—probably more. But I just don’t see how we get anywhere unless we risk everything. “It’s time to break into Web Safe and find out exactly what they’re keeping from us.”