Page 76 of Cole

"Unknown. But based on Northern Summit's operational size, probably six to ten personnel at the camp at any given time. Most will be workers, not security, but assume they're armed." Logan paused. "Cole, I need to say this one more time. Your objective is extraction, not engagement. You get Janice, and you get out. Revenge can wait."

"Understood." Cole meant it. He'd get Janice out first. That was priority one. But if the opportunity presented itself to make sure Charles Penson and his goons faced consequences for what they'd done, he wasn't going to hesitate.

The miles disappeared beneath the SUV's tires. They left the main road, following GPS coordinates down increasingly rough tracks. Snow still covered everything, but someone had been through here recently—tire tracks visible in the white blanket.

"Two miles out from the turnoff," Frazier announced. "Tracker shows Janice has stopped moving. She's stationary at what should be the mining camp location."

Cole's heart hammered. Two miles until they make it to the long road leading to the camp. Minutes away from her.

"We go in quiet," Frazier said, shifting into tactical command mode. "Establish overwatch, assess the situation, identify Janice's location. Then we extract. Clean and professional."

"Copy that," Timothy and Dalton responded in unison from the other vehicle.

Cole just nodded, his eyes fixed on the road ahead.

We’re coming, Janice. Just hold on a little longer. I’m coming.

34

The ride to the mining camp was silent except for the grinding of tires against packed snow and the occasional grunt from one of her captors as the truck lurched over rough terrain. Janice sat in the front, her body rigid with tension, her mind racing through possibilities that all ended badly. With one miner driving, the other two goons she’d come in contact with were in the back seat.

She wanted to scream—the urge built like pressure ready to blow, desperate for release. But there was no one to hear her out here. No passing cars, no hikers, no one who might intervene or call for help. Screaming would only waste energy she might need later.

If there was a later.

Thankfully, the cloth gag was gone, but her silence felt just as suffocating. She had no idea whether Cole knew she was missing yet, whether the tracker in her pendant was working, or whether anyone was monitoring it.

Her fingers found the lighthouse pendant at her throat, clutching it like a lifeline. Please work. Please let them know where I am.

The truck hit a particularly deep rut, and because she was pressed against the door, her shoulder took the brunt of the slam. Pain shot down her arm, but she bit back any sound. She wouldn't give these men the satisfaction of knowing they'd hurt her.

Through the window, she watched the landscape change. They'd left the main roads miles ago, following tracks that were more suggestion than actual path. The snow here was deeper, piled in drifts that would have made travel impossible for her cabin's old truck. But this vehicle was larger, with heavy-duty tires and four-wheel drive. It proved its efficiency as it made progress through the snow and ice.

The road was better maintained than the lane to her cabin had been, and Janice understood why. The mine had equipment such as bulldozers, snowplows, and tractors that could clear paths even through Alaska's worst storms. They needed year-round access for their operations and to move supplies and workers regardless of weather.

Ancient spruce trees crowded close to the track, their branches heavy with snow that hadn't been disturbed by wind or warmth. The forest looked pristine, untouched, beautiful in the way Alaska wilderness always was.

Finally, the truck slowed and stopped. Through the windshield, Janice could see a cluster of buildings. They looked like temporary structures, more like construction-site trailers than permanent installations. Some were outbuildings for equipment storage, a few larger structures that might be bunkhouses or offices. None were very large, just like she remembered from when she and Cole had come.

Once they came to a stop, she was roughly hauled out of the truck, her feet hitting packed snow that someone had obviously worked to clear. Without outerwear, the deep, bone-penetrating cold hit her immediately.

Janice wore jeans, a T-shirt, Cole's flannel shirt, and slip-on sneakers. Her clothing had been perfectly adequate for the heated hotel room but was woefully insufficient for standing in the Alaskan wilderness. No coat, no boots, no gloves, no hat… nothing to protect against the freezing temperature.

She was cold, hungry, and exhausted from the adrenaline crash following her kidnapping. And frightened in a way that went beyond physical fear into something more primal. The terror of being completely at someone else's mercy with no clear path to safety sliced through her.

But she wouldn't let them see that fear. Wouldn't give them the satisfaction.

"Move," one of the miners ordered, pushing her toward a small hut that sat slightly apart from the other structures.

Janice walked, her legs stiff from the truck ride, her body already shivering despite her efforts to control it. The hut was maybe ten feet square, made from prefabricated panels that didn't quite fit together properly. She could see daylight through some of the gaps.

The door swung open, revealing a dim interior. There was equipment inside, as well as coils of rope, a stack of metal pipes, and what looked like drilling components scattered across a dirt floor. Nothing comfortable. Nothing that suggested this space was meant for human occupation.

Nothing that could work as a weapon against multiple armed men. She almost snorted at the thought of her swinging a metal pipe at one of them. Might not take out more than one, but I could give one a headache!

They shoved her inside, and Janice stumbled, catching herself against one of the pipes before she fell. The door slammed shut behind her, followed by the sound of something being wedged against it from outside.

She was trapped.