When Alex Rossi stepped out of the house, he found his wife still trying to master the art of climbing into their new hammock without spinning out and landing on her face.
Grace hit the ground with a thump—again—but he didn’t laugh this time. He didn’t even crack a smile.
She noticed immediately. “Is it Danny?”
Their son was doing Disney with her parents. Alex shook his head. “Charlotte just called. Gallagher and Carmen—the chopper went down in the White Mountains.”
“Oh shit.” She pushed herself to her feet and started across the yard to him. “Do we know anything?”
“Just that it crashed.”
“We’ll take the Hummer. The gear bags are packed in the hall closet, but double-check for the sat phone and radios. Cell phone coverage up there sucks. Grab the cold-weather bags out of the basement—they’re blue. I’ll change and meet you out front in five.”
Alex shoved his hands through his hair. “You don’t have to go, Grace. You don’t do this stuff anymore.”
“It stopped being a Devlin Group mission when they went down. Now your best friend and my best friend are out there, hopefully still alive and waiting for us to come and get them.”
God, he hoped they were alive. “Then you’re down to four minutes, sweetheart. Move your ass.”