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Ren turned casually following the line of Quinn's stare. He found six men hanging around the pool table. A boisterous game of eight-ball was in progress. Trey and Vanko were there along with four new men. "Which of them is Keely looking at?"

"Rod Bannon, he's next to Trey. Jose Vences, the guy taking a shot. Tripp Jordan, standing behind Vences. The other guy, Risto Smith, is a good man and came highly recommended by people we both know and trust. Bannon and Jordan are definitely trouble. Smell like washouts who went merc. Vences just doesn't have the chops of ex-military and not sure where he's coming from, but he ain't what he advertised on his application." Quinn turned, a smile lurking in his eyes. "Keely said their backgrounds are as fake as a stripper's tits."

"She didn't put it that way, did she?" Ren's lips quirked at the thought of the little innocent saying such a thing.

"Nah, she called them asswipes." Ren choked back a laugh. Quinn grinned and continued. "She seems to have picked up some colorful terms from her Marine daddy.

Shocked the shit out of me hearing such a crude term coming from such sweet lips. Just goes to show you how upset she was, I guess."

Ren shook his head, turning once more to observe the three. He murmured, "Are they spies? What do you think, Quinn?"

The older man said nothing for a while, studying the men just as Ren had. "Bannon would get my vote. Maybe Jordan. Vences, my gut says no. Yeah, he lied, but he's too eager, too helpful. The other two think they're hot shit. Uh … noticed Bannon hanging around Keely at breakfast a couple of times—didn't like the smell of that, either."

Ren turned to look at his friend. If Quinn said it didn't smell right, then it really stank. Every muscle tightened at the thought of Bannon near Keely. "What did the fucker do? Did he touch her?" He gripped the arms of his chair, forcing himself not to leap up and tear the bastard's face off.

Quinn's calm, dark gaze fixed on Ren's hands. "Might want to let up on the chair.

You'll leave dents."

"Fuck the chair. What did Bannon do to Keely?"

"Nothing yet as far as I could glean. Mostly talk and coming on to her. Scotty was there and kept an eye on the situation. Said Keely handled it well." Quinn chuckled.

"Scotty said the little gal is one cool customer. I suspect she wants to get the goods on the three so you can toss their asses off the property—so she kept it cool."

"Where the fuck was her fucking brother when all this fucking happened?" He let go of the chair and stretched his all-of-sudden cramped fingers, wishing they were around Bannon's thick, ugly neck.

"Tweeter and Keely have been out every damn day in the worst weather I've seen in these parts in years, working on whatever they've been working on—so to answer your question, at five o'clock in the morning when said approaches occurred, Tweeter was sleeping."

"Fuck that. Keely was there, he should have been. I'll kick his ass," muttered Ren.

"Back off, boss man." Quinn laid his hand on Ren's shoulder, forcing him to sit all the way down. Ren hadn't even realized he was half out of his chair. "She handled it.

Scotty was there. She knew it and made sure Bannon knew it."

Ren rotated his head and shoulders in an attempt to alleviate the tension. He'd let it go—for now. He'd keep an eye on the situation, and if Bannon so much as breathed on Keely, all bets were off. He'd tear the asshole's head off and stuff it down his bloody stump of a neck. The image made him smile. "What have they told everyone about their daily trips into the wild?"

"At first, they told everyone they were snowboarding." Quinn snorted. "They took out boards the first few days, but the weather got treacherous. So then they changed their story to snowmobiling."

Ren nodded. "Sounds plausible."

"Yeah, except it has been colder than a witch's tit here for a week and the wind could blow your ass down. Everyone
knows
the two geniuses are doing something, but no one can imagine what. There's been quite a bit of speculation. I suspect that's why Bannon put the moves on Keely two days ago, prior to that time he kept his distance. He wants to shake something loose for his boss in DoD, maybe?"

"Maybe." Ren growled. Instead of chasing Trujo's ass all over South America, unsuccessfully, he should have been here protecting his sprite. Keely had needed him and he hadn't been here. Well, he was here now, and her little ass was never going to be out of his sight, if he could help it. "Where the fuck are they? There are fucking blizzard warnings out."

Shouts from the game room indicated the pool game was over. Trey ambled toward them, Vanko trailing him. The two men joined them.

Ren angled his head toward the pool table where the three suspects cued up another game with the other new guy, Smith. "What's your take on Bannon, Vences, and Jordan?"

Trey frowned. "Bannon and Jordan are blowhards, more show than go. Vences is young and naive. Can't believe the kid was an Army Ranger. Noticed you didn't ask about Smith, but Risto is solid gold, served in Afghanistan with a friend of mine. A fucking hero many times over."

"Keely's okay with Risto, the other three, not so much." Ren turned from his brother.

"Vanko, what's your gut telling you?"

"Same as Trey's. So, Keelulya's neck is itching again?" Vanko grunted. "Her itchy neck is better than most intel."

Ren smiled. "Yeah, it is. She's doing deep backgrounds on them according to Quinn."

"Where are Keely and Tweeter?" Trey looked around as if he expected to see them in the Lodge with the other Sanctuary inhabitants getting ready for the evening meal. Many chose to eat in the main dining room rather than fix something in their lodgings.

"Outside." Ren's smile left his face as his experienced gaze took in the white-out conditions through the large floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the mountainous terrain in which Sanctuary was nestled. He'd landed the SSI jet at the small airport outside of Elk City in conditions he normally wouldn't attempt. He'd been driven by the need to see Keely, so he'd chanced it.

"Well, shit." Trey looked toward the window. "Should we go out and look for them?"

"How? Where?" Ren pounded his fist on the arm of his chair. "Sanctuary is over a hundred square miles. Where are we supposed to look?"

Price joined them. "I couldn't help but overhear. I just came from the Bat Cave and I think I know where they are. They're heading in."

"How do you know that?" Quinn sat up in his chair.

Price grinned and sat on the arm of Vanko's chair. "Whatever in the hell those two have been doing while we chased Trujo's ass all over the Triple Frontier has produced a holographic image map of all of Sanctuary. I saw a blip moving from the north and heading on a straight line for us—well, as straight as you can get in this area. They look to be about twenty miles out."

"This the secret?" Quinn looked at Ren.

"Yeah." Ren stood up. "Show us, Price."

The others stood and joined Price as he led the way to the Bat Cave entrance, which only the inner core of SSI could access. Some of the other SSI employees might work in the Bat Cave under Tweeter's supervision, but none of those employees had clearance to be there without one of the directors.

Price used his hand imprint and retinal scan to open the elevator and the five of them entered the elevator and rode to the sub-basement. When the doors opened on the lower level, the men all gasped at once. Ren could understand why. There, on a large table in the center of the room was a holographic representation of the whole of Sanctuary, from border to border and ground to sky.

They moved to the table as one.

Ren followed the path of the small blipping signal coded with a set of letters and numbers that had to be Tweeter and Keely as they made their way back to the main compound.

"Fucking amazing," breathed Trey. "My God, Ren, this is brilliant. I've only seen the likes in sci-fi movies."

Ren frowned. "What are these blips coming in from the east? They don't have a code." Twenty or more blips edged into the hologram and moved steadily on a heading that would bring them to the Lodge.

"Shit. Someone is coming into our territory from the National Forest lands," Price said. "Unplanned guests?"

Ren quickly plotted speed and trajectories, then swore. "Fuck, just fuck. Keely and Tweeter will intersect the bogies before they make it back to safety." He looked to Quinn.

"Try to raise them on the two-way." To the others, he said, "Gear up. We're going to intercept the uninvited visitors."

"Tweetie." With the howling wind and the loud thrum of the powerful snowmobile engine, Keely shouted to make herself heard over the headset. "We've got company according to the readings on the laptop. Bogies coming in from the east just to the south of us. They'll cut across our path before we make it home."

"Shit." Tweeter swore some more and she didn't even think to chide him for all the f-bombs he dropped. "Switch to the alternating emergency frequencies, sis. We need to warn the others."

Keely, keeping one arm securely around her brother's lean waist, balanced the small laptop between their bodies as she keyed in the new set of alternating frequencies on her headset. Thank God for digital technology. She heard Quinn's welcome voice hailing them, issuing a warning about the unknown visitors to Sanctuary.

"Hey, Quinn. We see them on our portable comp," she told the older man.

"Keely, are you okay?" Ren's welcome voice warmed her more than Scotty's five-alarm chili would've.

"We're fine, big guy." She leaned harder into her brother's body as he took a corner on one skid. She shoved the laptop into the front pouch of her parka so it wouldn’t fly off on another such turn. "How did you see the intruders? Is the table working?"

"Yeah, baby, your table's working. Now you and Tweeter find a hole and hide in it.

The guys and I are coming out to see who's visiting in this kind of weather."

"Can't be anyone friendly, that's for sure," Tweeter said. "We're going to Cave A5.

I'll weapon up and meet you."

"Keely?"

"Yes, Ren?"

"Stay where Tweeter puts you—please?"

She sighed. "No one ever wants me to have any fun."

"I want you safe. And Quinn told me you haven't been resting. We'll discuss making false reports to me on your welfare later. For now I want you to rest and stay put until I come for you. Hear me?"

"I hear you." She rubbed her forehead on her brother's back. "I'm glad you're home, Ren. I missed you."

Silence on the connection seemed to last forever when Ren said, "Missed you, too, baby. Stay safe for me."

Tweeter chuckled and a beep told her he'd switched off the outside chatter so it was just the two of them on the headsets. "You lied to Ren about your health? You are in so much trouble."

"We'll see." She squeezed her brother's waist. "This Cave A5? Does it have a sniper rifle or two?"

"Yeah, why?" Tweeter hesitated, then said, "Ahh, sis. No. You promised to stay put.

Ren will pull my guts out through my nose if you do anything to endanger yourself."

"I didn't promise and I won't let him blame you. Besides, there's no danger in sniping from a distance. I counted the blips—there are too many of them. Ren and the guys will need the advantage of a sniper. Tell me about the rifles."

"Shit, shit, shit." He heaved a sigh as he took a turn leading upward into what looked like a dead end. "You'll want the AWM .338 Lapua Magnum in these conditions."

"Oh, sweet. Good in temps to forty-six below. Accurate as hell, less susceptible to wind conditions—and we sure as heck have those. Now where will we put me? Is there a place I can dig in—elevated—about what would you say? Fifteen hundred meters or so from where Ren and the guys will be intercepting the bogies?"

Tweeter's only response was a grunt which she took for agreement with her site plan.

He pulled into a sheltered area. The fierce gusts died down, blocked by the high rock walls on each side of the trail. The snow was deep, but at least it wasn't blowing around causing visibility issues. Her brother switched off the engine, then got off the snowmobile. "Sis, help me cover this up."

Keely got off the snowmobile and helped him cover the vehicle with the Arctic camouflage tarp. She followed him to a rock wall where he entered a code on a hidden key pad; the wall, really a steel door, slid open. They entered a small cave. Pathway lights illuminated as they moved through the space to another set of doors. This entrance was keyed to a retinal scan.

Tweeter shoved his goggles onto the top of his head then leaned into the scanner.

"Remind me to put you in the system."

"I already did." She took her goggles off and slid them up her arm, then removed her heavy outer gloves.

"Like when?" He aimed a skeptical glance at her before opening the door.

"Hey, you sleep a lot, and remember I designed a lot of the equipment you're using, big bro." She followed him into another room. This one was lined with steel walls and was ultra-high-tech. It was warm, about sixty degrees, and illuminated by recessed LED

lighting which had been activated by the opening of the door.

Tweeter strode to a cabinet and pulled out the sniper rifle first designed for the Swedish army and later used in Afghanistan due to its ability to withstand extremes in conditions from intense heat in the desert to freezing cold in the snow. "Is this too heavy for you, Keely?" He handed her the Lapua. It was fully assembled. He pulled out several loaded magazines and some extra rounds, stuffing them in a carry bag designed for the weapon when disassembled.

"No. I can handle it."

"Good." Tweeter pulled out a submachine gun and ammunition, a serrated battle knife and sheath, and a handgun.

"Got another knife in there for me?" She peeked around his shoulder. "Just in case, give me a handgun."

Her brother pulled the two items out and handed them to her. "And let's not have a

'just in case.' Stay the maximum distance away and cherry pick. Ren will kill us even for that much involvement. I know you can hit the pip out of an ace of spades at a thousand meters, but Ren doesn't."