McHan stepped forward before tension could flare.
“Three snowmobiles?”
Burke jerked his chin toward the trailer.
“You and Denton take one each. I’ll drive lead.”
Denton didn’t answer, but the look said enough: the Bureau didn’t take orders from county law.
“Mount up,” Burke said, already walking away.
Engines fired, snarling through the cold. They pushed up the mountain single file, the climb rough and narrow, trees sagging under snow, wind clawing across the switchbacks. Denton and McHan followed close.
By the time they crested the ridge, the storm had eased into a sullen gray—flat light, heavy silence. Smoke curled lazily from the Grady cabin’s chimney.
Burke killed his engine and scanned the ridge.
The front door opened.
Scout and Tessa stepped out side by side.
Alive.
Steady.
Moving close enough together to make Burke’s brows pinch.
He didn’t see it at first.
But then?—
Denton was off his sled before it fully stopped.
“Tess!”
He hit the steps at a run, boots taking them two and three at a time. Before she could turn, his arms were around her—tight, familiar.
Burke saw her head jerk back a fraction in surprise.
Then Denton’s mouth was on hers—full.
Unhesitating.
The sound of idling engines filled the silence.
Burke watched Tessa go still for a heartbeat under the impact.
Then she jerked back, breath tearing in sharp. Color flooded her cheeks. She took a fast step out of Denton’s arms.
From the side of the porch, Scout hadn’t moved.
Not a word.
Not a step.
But Burke saw the change hit him anyway—the way his shoulders went rigid, the light in his eyes flattening into something hard and unreadable. He’d seen that look on Scout before.
Usually before a fight.
