“But I do. I’ve only ridden on the lake so far, because I don’t know the trails.”

“Then join one of the local snowmobile clubs. They have maps, and they organize trail rides every weekend. You are not going with me.”

“Why not?”

“Because…” She tossed up her hands in frustration. “Oh, okay! But you’d better not interfere in my work or slow me down.”

“Slow you down?” He eyed her suspiciously. “What do you have for a sled?”

“I’m using one of the ski resort’s snowmobiles. It’s not a speed demon like yours; it’s a working sled. By ‘slow me down,’ I mean you’d better not start complaining that I’m going too fast for my condition.”

He gave a negligent shrug. “Riding on groomed trails is no more strenuous than driving a car. So,” he said, walking around the desk and opening his door. “Are you packing our lunch, or should I have the restaurant throw us something together?”

Megan reluctantly followed, then stepped directly in front of him. “I’m in charge of tomorrow’s ride.”

“Of course you are.”

“I’ll bring a gun.”

“Expecting trouble?”

“No. But only an idiot heads into the deep woods unarmed. And I’ll bring lunch. I have leftovers that need to be used up.”

“Great. I love cold roast beef sandwiches, especially with mustard and cheese.”

“And I’m bringing snowshoes, because I want to check out a deer yard I think is up there. What about your knee?”

“It’s much better, thanks. But in the interest of not slowing you down, I’ll just find a sunny spot and take a nap while you hunt for your herd of deer. If you bring the leftover gravy, I can build a fire to heat it up. You want me to make the cocoa?”

She again eyed him suspiciously, apparently wondering why he was being so cooperative. “Um…okay. But I—”

She was interrupted when someone cleared his throat nearby. Jack looked over to see Robbie MacBain standing there, Ethel hovering behind their newest guest. She shrugged when Jack didn’t say anything, then went back to the front desk.

“You two sound like you’re planning a trip to the backcountry,” MacBain said, frowning at Megan. “Have you spoken with your father today?”

“Apparently you have,” Megan snapped. She suddenly shot her cousin a smug smile. “I’m going, and Wayne’s going with me.”

Robbie’s glare returned to Jack. “This is your idea of keeping her safe?”

“I’ll be right behind her the whole way. If a moose tries messing with her, I’ll run it over with my sled.”

He thought MacBain was going to punch him, and bit back a grin.

Megan snorted. “I’ll most likely be saving him,” she said, doing exactly that by stepping between them.

She was his little warrior, all right, giving him hell one minute and protecting him the next. Jack wondered if she even realized what she was doing.

“We’ll be on the snowmobile trails, Robbie,” she continued. “What can possibly be dangerous about that? Tomorrow’s a weekday, so there won’t be much sled traffic, and I’ll have the satellite phone if we run into trouble.”

“Did you follow that guy’s tracks the other night?” Jack asked Robbie.

“That’s what I’ve come to talk to you about,” he said, walking past Megan into the office.

By the scowl Megan gave his back, she apparently didn’t like her cousin’s dismissing her any more than she liked Jack doing it.

So Jack did it again. “I’ll meet you in front of your house at nine tomorrow morning,” he told her, stepping back into his office and partially shutting the door. “Don’t forget the gravy.”

Megan spun on her heel and stormed down the hall. Jack took a moment to admire her lovely backside, then closed the door and turned to Robbie.

“What’s your background, Stone?”

Jack walked to his chair. “Covert intelligence.”

“You were in the field?”

“And more dark alleyways of European and Middle Eastern cities than I care to recall.” He sat down and motioned for Robbie to do the same. “I promised Greylen I would keep his daughter safe, and I will. Tell me about Kenzie Gregor.”

“Kenzie? Why?”

“What’s his story? And what’s his interest in Megan?”

“He’s only been in this country a short while, he lives up on TarStone with an old priest named Daar, and he considers Megan a sister. I made some calls this morning to a few of my old military friends, and they’re looking into Mark Collins for me.”

“Good. The more information we get on Collins, the better. Explain the social structure around here for me—best as I can tell, there are at least three…clans? The MacKeages, the MacBains, and the Gregors. Is Greylen really a laird?”

“He’s laird of the clan MacKeage. My father is also a laird, though neither man uses the title anymore.” His eyes lit with amusement. “Unless they’re wanting to flex their muscles at someone.”

Jack ignored that last part. “Yet you seem to be the go-to man around here. Megan and Camry respect your authority, as does Greylen.”

Robbie settled back in his seat with a smile. “I was the first American born. My mother, Mary, and Grace MacKeage were sisters. Mary died when I was born and Libby is my stepmother. As for my role here, I suppose you could call me a sort of guardian of the families.”

“Why do they need you to look out for them?”

“That’s the way clans work. Four MacKeage men and my father settled here thirty-nine years ago, and though they readily adapted, they’ve come to rely on me in most matters because I grew up here. The old priest who lives on TarStone, Father Daar, came with them. He’s a strange fellow who usually keeps to himself. If you happen to meet him, don’t take too seriously what he might say. He’s getting on in years and becomes confused sometimes.”

“And the Gregors?”

“Matt owns a jet engine company in Utah. He arrived in Pine Creek last September, and owns Bear Mountain. Winter, Grey’s youngest daughter, married Matt at Christmas. His brother Kenzie has been here since the wedding.”

“And Kenzie Gregor lives with the priest.”

Robbie nodded. “He looks out for the old man. Why are you interested in Kenzie?”

“Because he’s interested in Megan.”

Robbie shook his head. “Not in that way.”

“And I believe he’s the man who attacked me two nights ago.”

“What makes you think that?”

Jack shrugged. “Where did the tracks lead?”

“I followed them to a bog about three miles up the east side of the lake, at the base of Bear Mountain. Then they simply vanished into thin air.”

“Tracks don’t just vanish.”

“Bear Creek enters the lake through that bog, and the flow has covered nearly thirty acres in glaze ice.” Robbie also shrugged. “That’s where I lost him. The man may have had a snowmobile parked on one of the nearby trails, and could have gone in any direction after that. Have you considered that maybe the connection to Collins is with you, not Megan?”

“I’ve considered it, but why go to the trouble of hiring Megan if it’s me he’s after?”

“To use her to get to you? After all, you’re the one who directly interfered in whatever he was doing in Canada, according to what Greylen told me.”

“I see your point,” Jack said, shuffling through his pads until he found the one marked MARK COLLINS. “But the thread I’m seeing is linking Megan to him, not me.”

“Thread?” Robbie repeated, peering down at the pad.

Jack wrote his own name on the page, followed by a question mark. “Covert intelligence, remember?” He looked up. “I was good at my job because I could see threads linking what appeared to be unconnected information together.” He shrugged. “You would likely call them gut instincts. I call them threads.” He stood up, walked to his office door, and opened it. “Thanks for following those tracks the other night. I appreciate your effort.”

Robbie stepped into the hallway. “I hope you’re able to keep your promise to protect Megan.”

“I have a feeling you’ll be watching my back.”