He thought he was checking out illegal logging in the Idaho mountains-until he found a German Shepherd locked in a frozen cage, staring at him like it had been waiting for exactly one person
quiet, the cold had moved from threat to possession.
He slammed the truck door against the wind and rounded the hood, boots grinding into hard-packed snow. The animal lay curled against the seat, too exhausted to lift his head, but his eyes followed Grant through the windshield. They were amber, alert, almost offended by weakness.
