Running for my life in my wedding gown, I’m rescued by three rugged mountain men.

I overhear my fiance’s dangerous secrets.
And all I can think about is protecting the baby growing inside me.

Fleeing in a snowstorm, I lose control on icy roads, and my world goes black.

When I wake, I’m surrounded by three massive men.
Older.
Battle-trained.
Carrying scars that tell stories without a word.

Former Marines. Brothers-in-arms.
They tell me I’m safe with them.
Hidden at their remote compound.

Atlas, quiet, commanding. Haunted by loss.
A smoldering fire ready to ignite.

Explosives expert Grizz.
Knows how to make me combust with a single touch.

Viper, elite marksman.
Watching me like he can’t decide whether to trust me or devour me.

They look at me like I’m the mission that matters most.
But nothing is certain.
Not when my powerful ex has a target on my back.

The one thing I know for sure?
My three mountain Marines will protect me with their lives.
And they’ll destroy anyone who tries to hurt me.

1

Kira

The sky is heavy with storm clouds. Night is approaching, and what little light remains is fading fast. 

I need to get where I’m going, but I don’t know where that is. 

Away. Far, far away.

Thank god for Brianna’s full tank of gas.

It was already raining when I bolted to her car, and now that I’m climbing elevation, the rain is turning to snow.

It’s the first snow I’ve seen this year. It’s usually a magical moment, but today it’s another element of the nightmare I’m suddenly living in. A twisted sort of snowglobe someone is shaking with a violent hand, turning everything upside down.

You have two choices, Kira.

A car comes up behind me too fast, and my pulse spikes. My hands shake, even as I clutch the wheel like a lifeline. When the vehicle swerves into the left lane without using a signal, I hold my breath and don’t exhale until it passes and speeds ahead.

I exit at my next opportunity. Something tells me it will be safer to travel on back roads.

At the stop sign, I flip an imaginary coin. Should I go left or right? Which direction might lead me to safety?

I can’t imagine a best-case scenario, unless you count boarding a plane for the other side of the world, which would be difficult without money. No wallet, no credit cards. Not even my phone, and being without it would usually feel like I’m missing a limb, but even if I’d had time to grab it, I couldn’t risk it being used to track me.

I need somewhere to hide.

I turn left, where I pass a gas station, a fast food restaurant, and a few houses. After that, there’s not much besides trees and open spaces, and I’m glad for the emptiness.

The route leads me higher into the mountains. Snow is sticking to the windshield. The temperature must be dropping because the inside of the window is fogging up.

My wedding dress, still damp from the sprint across the mansion’s parking lot, is like ice against my skin, no matter how much heat blasts from the vents.

My hands are numb, and I don’t know if that’s from the cold, my death grip on the steering wheel, or shock.

I’m shivering, bone deep.

I make another turn, and the road narrows. Guardrails appear through a curtain of white, then disappear into darkness. Trees are crowded close. No more streetlights, no houses, no other cars. Only the occasional reflection from a marker post caught in my headlights.

Up here in the mountains, this clearly isn’t the first time they’ve seen flurries this season. Plow-packed snowbanks, solid with ice and gravel, line the road. At first, they help me follow the route, but the snow keeps coming down thicker with each mile that passes. It clings to the road in slick patches, making every curve a gamble.

Wind pushes against me in violent gusts. I ease my foot off the gas, but I’m too panicked to slow down as much as I should in this weather.

“We’re okay. We’re okay. We’re going to be okay.”

The snowstorm doesn’t listen.

I’m facing a white wall. Zero visibility. Every muscle in my body is tight and aching. My heart is hammering so loudly the sound seems to fill the car.

As I’m navigating the next curve, the front tire slips down onto the shoulder. I panic, cut the wheel too sharply to get back on the road, and the car fishtails. I turn the wheel again, and suddenly, I’m spinning sideways, out of control. 

The car skids off the road. For one sickening moment, I’m airborne, and a scream rips out of my throat. 

I hit the ground with a thud. Metal crunches and glass shatters. Everything jolts forward.

My vision blurs as my hands slip from the wheel.

A sharp pain hits below my chest. Then a deeper pain, lower.

The world tilts with another shake of the snowglobe that’s my personal hell.

Wind howls, and my breath fogs the air as consciousness slips.

Please.

Please save the baby.

2

Atlas

“We should’ve finished an hour earlier.” Grizz growls the words from the backseat like his namesake bruin.

Eyes scanning left and right in the scope of my low beams, Viper keeps watch from the passenger seat as the snow falls in thick sheets. “The whole meeting should’ve been a fucking email.”

I exchange a look with Grizz in the mirror. Viper gets restless anytime he’s out of the mountains, especially when meetings run long. Both of them do.

While I took notes about the threatening messages our new client’s been receiving, Grizz’s heavy boot tapped an impatient rhythm on the meeting room floor, and Viper sat like a statue, arms crossed, only his jaw twitching occasionally beneath his beard as his eyes swept the front of the property through the conference room window. 

I saw the clouds coming, but didn’t want to cut things short. “The truck is well-equipped for the storm.”

Silence falls for several miles until I round a bend. Fresh tire marks careen across the road before they disappear entirely.

“Pull over.” Viper zips his jacket and pulls on well-worn gloves as I ease over to the shoulder.

I put the truck in park and turn on the flashers. Viper’s out first, jogging across the road, disappearing into the snow.

A moment later, he yells, “Compact sedan. Front end hung up in trees.”

I grab the safety kit, Grizz tucks blankets under his arm, and we join Viper at the edge of the road.

It’s a gray car, about a decade old, its outline partially obscured by snowfall. The nose is lodged in a cluster of new growth trees, which is all that’s keeping the car from plunging down the mountain.

Grizz lets out a low whistle. “Good thing it went off here and not where there’s a clear drop.”

“Let’s see who’s in there.” The car dug up the snow as it skidded, and the slope is treacherous. I move down the incline with careful steps.

Viper circles the vehicle, checking the stabilization. “It’s wedged, but the snow’s going to bury it. We get her out now, or we’re not getting her out at all.”

Her.

I swipe a gloved hand over the driver’s side window to catch a glimpse of the woman. Young, blonde hair, wearing something silky white. There’s a spiderweb crack in the glass where she likely struck her head.

Ignoring the sick feeling in my gut, I scoop away snow until I can tug the door open. She’s slumped against the seat belt, long hair tangled, her face pale and slack. Makeup is smeared on her eyes and at her mouth.

She’s wearing a white dress with a full skirt that obscures her legs and feet. She’s alone, and the only other visible object is a ball of white mesh on the passenger side front seat. Is that a fucking wedding veil?

Angling my body to shelter her from the weather, I find warmth at her wrist that triggers a short sigh of relief. “Unconscious, but breathing. Her pulse is steady.”

Grizz comes up behind me, his bulk cutting off the wind at my back. “Bruises and cuts on her face. She took a hard hit.”

The rest of her body is concealed under a crush of fabric. Pushing the white satin aside, I find her hand shielding her stomach. The protective instinct sets off alarms and triggers painful old memories.

I slide my hand into her hair and find a lump. “Possible concussion.”

Viper steps back to keep watch on the road, ice clinging to his beard. “Storm’s getting worse,” he calls down. “We need to move.”

I cut the seatbelt and support the woman’s weight as I ease her forward. She’s soft in a way that doesn’t belong out here in this harsh weather. Her skin’s cold, and her body’s limp.

Grizz wraps a blanket around her, tucking it in securely, and together, we lift her out and carry her up the incline.

I lay her across the truck’s back seat, where Grizz covers her with more blankets, then cradles her head in his lap. Returning from another check of her vehicle, Viper climbs in beside her to monitor her breathing.

Though our focus is on her, the three of us exchange looks that communicate a lot without a need for words. Now that she’s out of the wreckage, her dress is unmistakably a wedding gown, and it’s torn in ways that don’t align with a car crash.

She has fresh facial bruising that’s also inconsistent with the car accident.

As I get us back on the road, Viper says, “Nothing else in the car. No luggage, no purse. Vehicle is registered to Brianna Thomas, but her expensive dress and jewelry don’t line up with the old car.”

If there had been any other tracks around the vehicle, say from a groom who went to look for help on foot, Viper would’ve reported it. There’s only one ring on her manicured finger. A big, shiny rock, but no wedding band.

None of it adds up to anything good.

I give a backward glance to the crashed car. Snow’s piling heavier against the tires.

“Those trees aren’t going to hold on for long,” Viper mutters.

“It’s a damn good thing we found her tonight.” I turn up the heat and focus on getting us back to the compound safely.