Lucas nodded. They went back to the truck and snapped on their skis, then shouldered their backpacks. Because he had no idea what they’d find, Tristan attached the ski raft straps around his hips and slung the rifle over his back. A moment later, they plunged into the dark woods.
The trail they followed wasn’t an established path. Instead, it wound between trees and zigzagged past thick clusters of willows. The silence of the night was almost absolute, except for the sounds of their breathing and the swish of their skis through the snow.
“Do you remember anything about the houses nearby?” Tristan asked in a low voice.
“I think there’s a compound of some kind around here. I remember hearing about a group that lives up here, they’re macrobiotic or something.”
“A religious group?”
“Not really. They just like growing their own food. They come down to Lost Harbor to gather seaweed and pick cranberries. They weave their own cloth and yarn, that sort of thing. Good folks, at least when I’ve talked to them.”
“Not kidnappers or allied with kidnappers?”
“That, I couldn’t say. I guess we’ll find out soon enough.”
Maybe. Or maybe this was a wild goose chase. Maybe he was making one bad decision after another. “Yeah,” he said brusquely. His breath steamed into the cold air, with crystals of frost glittering in the beam of his headlamp. They looked like fairies dancing around him waving little frost sparklers.
Which made him think of Lulu.
“I love her,” he said out loud.
“Huh?” Lucas called from behind him. Probably couldn’t hear over the sound of his own skis.
He didn’t answer, since he hadn’t meant to say it aloud to begin with.
But it was true. He loved her. He knew in his bones that they were on her trail. Would she be alive? Hurt? Traumatized? She’d been through so much already. He had to be prepared for anything.
After about a mile of hard skiing, they rounded the last willow and caught sight of a large wooden-beamed structure the size of a cathedral. At the doorway, he saw a splash of pink and one of gray. Two people. The pink figure was small, and the black one, barely visible in the dim light shed by the automatic sensor light, tall and lanky, with legs that went forever.
“Lulu,” he shouted, nearly stumbling over his skis to reach her.
“Tristan? Is that you? Oh my God!” She launched herself toward him. He kept skiing and she lurched through the snow in some kind of weird wetsuit, and then he was sweeping her off her feet and into his arms.
“You’re okay. You’re safe,” he muttered frantically into her neck. “I was so fucking scared.”
“You were scared. I had to set an outhouse on fire! I never want to do that again. I thought all the poop might make it explode.”
He laughed, and couldn’t stop from the sheer relief of hearing that lighthearted voice of hers. “God, I love you, Lulu. I’m in love with you. This is it. You and me. I mean, if you… me.”
“Yes. Whatever you were going to say, yes. I love you, too. I do.” She lifted her face so he could kiss her, which he did, fiercely, deeply, until she tore herself away. “But we have no time. People are sick in there. We have to help them. Iris is the only one who’s mobile, and the poor girl’s about to collapse. She says everyone else is in bed. Thirty people. And it’s very infectious, so we have to be careful. Oh, and there’s a tree blocking the road out.”
“We saw the tree. It’s okay. We got this.” He pulled out his phone and called Ralphie. While he was waiting for the call to go through, he called to the girl in pink. “Iris. Does this place have a boat landing?”
“Just for dinghies,” she answered. “You have to land on the beach.”
Damn, that would make things more difficult. But not impossible.
“Yeah, Captain,” Ralphie answered.
“We’ve got Lulu, but now there’s another crisis. We need everyone to come to these GPS coordinates.” He sent them along in a text. “We have thirty sick people who need to get medical help. They’re infectious, so I only want two per boat, and wear some kind of face covering. Can you get everyone here?”
“On it.”
“Oh, and you’ll have to row in to a beach. There’s no landing.” Hearing Ralphie’s groan—no one liked rowing in the winter—he said, “It is what it is. These folks need us, and we’re their best bet right now.”
“Of course. I mean, yes, Captain.”
Thirty-Six
And that was how the famous Lost Harbor Boat Lift took place. It took the fleet hours to get all the ill residents of the compound into the dinghies and onto the boats. One by one, the Lost Harbor fishermen chugged at top speed toward home, where every fire engine, ambulance, and police car awaited them, their lights flashing on the boardwalk as if a carnival had moved in.
Maya Badger ordered everyone to use the proper biohazard suits, or some homemade approximation. Lulu spotted everything from bandanas to carpenter’s masks. She stuck with her blindfold, considering it good luck at this point. She gave Tristan her gag, which he scowled at with such fury that she was surprised it didn’t burst into flames.
He glared even more when he saw the bruise purpling her cheek. “That bastard is going to pay…”
“Yes, my love.”
“Can I kiss you? Does it hurt?”
“No, it doesn’t hurt. It’s mostly numb from the cold. Kiss away.”
He kissed her as if he never wanted to stop, as if each kiss was their first. As if each kiss was forever.
At the Misty Bay Regional Hospital, Bethany Morrison sealed off one wing so that the infection wouldn’t spread. She and the other doctors went to work treating symptoms and taking blood cultures to figure out what the group had come down with.
It was the most exciting thing Lulu had ever been part of, especially because she got to see Tristan Del Rey in “captain” mode, which was hands down the sexiest thing she’d ever witnessed. He kept his calm, came to quick, logical decisions, fired off commands that the others followed, and just generally demonstrated why everyone respected him.
When the last of the compound’s residents had been loaded onto the Desperado, Lucas skied back through the woods to his truck, while she and Tristan rowed out to the Desperado. Tristan took command of his boat as Ralphie tended to their two passengers, who just happened to be young women.
Lulu joined Tristan in the wheelhouse, where he beckoned her to his side. She nestled blissfully under his arm as he stood at the wheel, steering them toward Lost Harbor.
“I have a surprise for you,” he murmured. “They caught Antonov. Maya arrested him and handed him off to the FBI. They also located the woman in the wool coat. She isn’t talking yet, but they’re confident they have the right person.”
“Mmm.” Cozied under his arm, she barely cared about the kidnappers anymore, as long as they couldn’t hurt anyone else. Raul was probably in for years of therapy, but he was a level-headed kid. She had faith that he’d be okay. “I have a surprise for you, too,” she told Tristan.
“Yeah? What’s that?”
“I’ve decided to settle down. I’ve had enough of roaming the world practicing my high kicks.”