Page 10 of The Hero She Loves

With a growl, he snatched it up and when he saw Vander’s name, his gaze narrowed. He stabbed the screen. “You sicced the US Marshals on me.”

There was a beat of silence. “No, just one marshal who needs your help.”

Park made a sound. “I’m out. Retired. I just want to be left in peace.”

“You’re brooding. Stewing in survivor’s guilt and what happened to you.”

“Yeah, well, when you get tortured for three weeks, I think you earn the right to tell the world to fuck off.”

“I’ll never give up on you, Park. You’re one of mine.”

Dammit. There was an iron thread in Vander’s voice. He never left any man behind. Even though he’d left Ghost Ops a few years ago, Park knew he’d been pulling strings behind the scenes when Park had been captured. Rattling cages to ensure he was found and rescued.

“I can’t do it, Vander.”

“Yes, you can. You’re one of the strongest men I know, Park. I know what you endured. I know it was a nightmare, but you made it. You survived. And you have the skills to stop Olson. More importantly, you have the instincts. He’ll outthink the marshals, but you…he can’t escape you.”

A muscle ticked in Park’s jaw. He could feel himself getting sucked in.

“Jenna is stubborn, dedicated, and dogged,” Vander added. “She won’t stop until she’s found Olson. She needs your help.”

“Shit, I am so annoyed at you right now.”

“You’re one of mine and I’ll always have your back. Now, it’s time to get out of limbo, Park. Quit dancing around and pick a side. You need me, call.” Vander ended the call.

Quit dancing around and pick a side.

Dammit. He grabbed his flannel shirt off the back of his chair and pulled it on over his T-shirt, then he grabbed his keys.

In his head, he mentally called Vander a bunch of names as he headed for his truck. He slid into his black Dodge Ram and headed for Fairbanks.

When he pulled up in front of the Frontier Inn, he’d decided to try and quit talking himself out of this.

He was going to help Jenna hunt down Kyle Olson.

He pulled into a parking spot and was about to call her, when he saw a young African-American man step out of the bar next door. He was talking on a cellphone, and the way he was dressed—neatly-pressed trousers and a fancy jacket—had Park pegging him as a marshal. Definitely not a Fairbanks local.

Climbing out of the truck, Park headed for the bar. As he neared, he spotted Jenna through the front window. She was sitting at the long, wooden bar, and at a table nearby, were several more men he guessed were law enforcement.

He headed in, then sat on the stool beside her.

When she looked up, relief covered her face. “Drink?”

“Yeah. Beer.”

She waved at the bartender. She had the remains of a burger sitting in front of her, along with a glass of red wine. “A beer, please.” Then she swiveled toward Parker. “You changed your mind.”

“You can’t do this alone.”

Her chin lifted, a glint in her blue eyes. “I could, but it’ll take me longer without you.”

His beer arrived. He sat there, silent. Jenna didn’t say anything, and he liked that she didn’t feel the need to fill the silence.

“I need everything you have on Olson,” he said.

“Done.”

“Where he’s been staying. Friends, acquaintances, places he’s frequented. I also need to see the location where he escaped.”