The cold morning wind whipped through the open doorway of the mountain chalet, blowing powdery white snow across the wooden floor. The tension in the narrow entrance was thick enough to cut with a sharp knife. Guns were raised, fingers rested flat against heavy triggers, and a single mistake would turn the quiet hotel porch into a bloody crime scene.

Jax stood like a solid mountain beside Lucian, his black steel handgun aimed straight at the lead officer's forehead. His dark eyes were cold, unblinking, and totally devoid of fear. Beside him, Lucian loomed large, his broad shoulders blocking the doorway like a heavy wall of muscle.

The two Swiss...