Page 16 of Shared By the Mountain Men Triplets

Her breath catches as her back presses against me. Her fingers clamp around my forearm, and she holds on as the stream moves around us. She fitsagainst me like she was made to be there.

Her weight, her heat, the curve of her tucked close against the front of my body. The light scent of her sweat and her sun-warmed skin, and the feminine fragrance that still clings to her hair even after hours on the trail. All of it feels too right.

I keep my hand spread across her middle, lower than it needs to be but higher than the places my body wants to claim. I can feel her breathing against me, and my breath wants to match hers.

When she doesn’t pull away, something in me turns feral.

Keep her.

Keep her here. Keep her safe. Keep her where you can feel her breathe.

I loosen my grip before I can obey the voice inside me.

“You good?” I ask. My voice comes out so rough that Rhett looks away.

Wren nods once. “Yes.” Hers comes out shaky, and I don’t think it’s only from the near-fall.

I set her on the next stone with care, keeping my greedy hands on her until she has her balance. Maybe a second too long. Maybe more.

She looks at me over her shoulder. “Thank you.”

It’s quiet, and a little unsteady, and I feel the words vibrate inside me for the rest of the hike.

We reach the cabin near dark, and Wren comes inside to send her report through her federal chain. She sits at our dining table with her laptop open and a focused linebetween her brows, and the air in the cabin changes around her, just like it did when she came for dinner.

I stay near the counter and try not to be obvious as I watch her.

“Well, it’s sent.” She lets out a heavy breath as she closes her laptop. “I’ll see what my supervisor says tomorrow.”

“We need to talk about local law enforcement,” Rhett says.

“Not yet.” My brothers and Wren all look at me. “If that cache is active, whoever built it may be watching the route.”

“Agreed,” Rhett says.

“The Moon Ridge sheriff’s office doesn’t have the manpower to sit on it quietly. If you report it to them, they’ll call for help. That would mean vehicles, radio traffic, and people asking questions.”

Wren looks to Rhett, but he doesn’t respond, so I continue.

“Whoever built that cache isn’t some idiot dumping trash off an ATV trail. Whatever’s in there was concealed by someone who knows what they’re doing, and they’ll know when official attention lands on it.”

“You think they’d move it?” Wren asks.

“That and everything we haven’t found yet,” I say. “If we tip them off before we understand the scope, we lose the chance to see the whole operation.”

“You’re assuming an operation,” Rhett says.

“Someone doesn’t go to that amount of trouble for one-time use,” I say. “The residue we found today likely connects to what Wren found miles away.”

Boone makes a low sound. “He’s not wrong.”

Wren folds her hands on top of her laptop. “I’m not comfortable withholding evidence from law enforcement.”

“We’re not withholding it,” I say. “You sent it to federal.”

After a few seconds, Wren nods. “I agree with not calling the sheriff tonight, only because I already sent all the information to my supervisor. If he instructs me to notify local law enforcement, I will.”

Rhett nods. “Understood.”