Risky Romance (Wolf Security #4)

30. Cody

CHAPTER 30

Cody

The plane bounced as it touched down on a rough stretch of grass. Tory maneuvered it along the road leading to the plantation’s long driveway, finally stopping well before the canning shed. The landing had its thrill, but I couldn’t fully enjoy it with Jewel gripping her seat and her expression mirroring the terror she had shown when I’d first opened my eyes after nearly drowning.

I was so lucky she’d pulled me from the river when she had, and that she knew CPR, or I wouldn’t be here.

I was going to need a whole lot more luck now that I was back at my farm.

During our descent, my mind was split in two. Part of me wondered if this would be the last time I would see Jewel. The other part questioned why I expected anything different. Why would she want to stick around me? I was damaged goods—a man with a fucked-up past and no clear future. She had the world at her feet.

As I stepped onto the ground, the dry, cracked earth bit into my bare feet. Another damn reminder that I’d lost my favorite boots. I’d spent a week’s wages on those boots six years ago, and I’d worn them every day since. Now they were gone, just like nearly everything else important to me.

Next would be Jewel.

I clenched my jaw, pissed at myself for even going there. Whatever had sparked between us these past few days was nothing but adrenaline and bad timing.

The summer heat rolled off the ground in waves as I led them toward the heart of the plantation. The old shed, corn canning warehouse, and Uncle John’s homestead formed a rough triangle that had been the center of my world since I was eleven.

I glanced back at Jewel who was keeping her distance a few paces behind me. Her eyes were distant, and she seemed lost in thought as she studied the corn rows beside us. Even covered in dirt and tired from our ordeal, she moved with that city-girl grace that made my chest tighten and my dick throb. I would give anything to have met her under different circumstances.

Not that it mattered. We were like oil and water. No point pretending otherwise.

My corn fields stretched in every direction, looking green and healthy from here, but it was a fucking illusion. Somewhere in those rows, that Fall Armyworm was marching to its own beat and turning my life’s work into its own damn buffet.

Usually, these fields brought me peace. Nothing better than watching corn thrive under my care and seeing yields climb year after year. But knowing the grilling I was about to get from Jewel’s so-called friends, all I felt was dread.

Top that with the unfinished business between Uncle John and me. And my fists clenched just thinking about Bruce. If I saw his face, I wasn’t sure I could stop myself from finishing what I’d started.

As we approached the canning factory, something was off. The silence was heavy; there was no rumble of machinery, no calls or whistles echoing from the warehouse. No workers, no cars, not even steam rising from the pipes lining the canning factory roof. The only movements were buzzing insects that skirted the tops of the swaying corn.

Uncle John’s farmhouse was ahead. Its wrap-around veranda was empty, and his truck, which was just about always parked next to the steps, was gone. The silence made my skin crawl. Where the hell was everyone? Had Uncle John cut and run? And Bruce?

A helicopter sat where Grant Hughes usually parked his chopper, and eight strangers clustered around it like vultures. Jewel’s friends watched our approach, and their angry expressions confirmed they were here to tear my life apart. The big bastard at the back crossed his arms, fixing me with a snarl that said he was ready to bust my balls. He already had me pegged as guilty.

I’m walking into something I’ll never recover from.

Worse still, if Jewel was right about this drug thing, then I would never work on Baxter Creek Plantation again.

My work. My home. My whole fucking life would never be the same.

As I slowed, Jewel stepped forward, shaking hands with the men and receiving hugs from the women. She rattled off names that went in one ear and out the other: Aria, Maya, Viper, Levi, Lacey, Tyler, Ryder, Blade. They all knew Jewel, and clearly, she was well liked. Except Ryder. He glared at her like she was in deep shit, and I marked him as her boss.

“Guys, this is Cody.” Jewel stood beside me, radiating confidence.

Tightness gripped my chest as their scrutinizing gazes sized me up like I was a total asshole.

“Cody is the only reason I escaped after being tied up in that barn.” Jewel pointed at the old shed, but her damn molasses eyes locked onto mine. “He also saved me several times over the last four days. Without him, I’m pretty sure I’d be dead.”

Ryder came forward, offering his hand. “Thank you for saving Jewel. Looks like you’ve been to hell and back.”

I nodded and shook his hand, trying not to notice how Jewel tucked her hair behind her ear. That cute habit of hers was something I’d remember forever. “We survived. That’s what matters.”

“He’s being modest.” Jewel stepped closer, and a mix of frustration and amusement danced in her expression, the same look she’d given me when I’d flicked all those bloody ants off her body after we’d crossed that log over the ravine.

Was that just days ago?

Another man stepped forward while Jewel shifted beside me, twisting her fingers. “Cody, I’m Detective Tyler Kingsley. Has Whisper—I mean Jewel—given you information regarding Scorpion Industries?”

“Some, yes.” I kept my answer short and my jaw tight. The less these people thought I knew about their fucking company, the better chance I had of keeping my innocence intact.

“Good. We’re hoping you can help us with our investigation.”

“Sure. Don’t know how though.” My gaze drifted to Jewel as she fidgeted with a loose thread at the hem of her sexy denim shorts.

“When was the last time you saw Grant Hughes?” Aria asked. Her navy pantsuit and high ponytail screamed federal agent, and her cold eyes hinted at a history of breaking tougher men than me.

“We searched these three buildings before you arrived,” Blade cut in. The big brute’s scowl could crack coconuts, and every instinct told me he was itching for a fight.

I raised an eyebrow, struggling to keep my voice steady. “And?”

“And we didn’t find anything.”

Yeah, no shit.

“What did you expect to find? As I keep telling Jewel, this is a corn plantation.” I swept my hand toward the fields. “I grow corn out there, and it comes in here for canning.” I pointed to the massive shed behind us.

My stomach knotted as Jewel pulled away from me.

Lacey, the female cop, stepped forward. “Is there any section of the plantation you didn’t have access to?”

“Nope.” The word came out harder than I meant, but their questions were pissing me off.

Lacey shook her head, eyeballing Ryder like they were tag-teaming an interrogation. My chest tightened watching them plot to take me down. I swept my gaze over them. They were like a pack of wolves who seemed angry enough to take on Bruce in full swing.

Bruce!

“Actually,” I said, clicking my fingers. They all leaned forward like bloodhounds feasting on a scent. “Bruce never let me near his place.”

“Where?” Viper unfolded his massive arms, and his rigid stance shifted from statue to predator.

“Easier if I take you.” That was true, but I’d also been itching to see what that bastard was hiding for years.

“Lead the way.” Aria flicked her dark hair over her shoulder and laid her eyes on Maya, a blonde woman who was shorter than Jewel, but her fighter’s stance convinced me she would pack a punch.

I marched around the rusted tractor that had been dead ten years and counting. As I strode past the old barn where I’d spent endless nights keeping ancient equipment breathing, a thought hit like a sledgehammer: if Uncle John was running drugs through here, he would be swimming in cash. So why was I patching up rusted pieces of junk if he was making a fortune?

Nothing made any fucking sense.

Trying to shake the bullshit free, I stepped onto the left tire track cutting through the cornfield toward Bruce’s place.

Jewel eased into my side and her warmth was both a comfort and a torment. “You okay?”

“Sure. I love having accusations thrown at me by a bunch of assholes I don’t know.” The bitterness in my voice surprised even me.

Jewel seemed to crumble in on herself, and something in my chest cracked at the sorrow on her face. “Cody.” My name fell from her lips steeped in disappointment.

I didn’t give a fuck. I was done with this circus. The sooner these bastards cleared out, the sooner I could return to my simple life.

If there was something to return to.

“Cody. Please. I’m sorry.” Her fingers brushed mine.

I yanked my hand free from hers, rough enough to make a point.

The gulf between us stretched wider.

A broken sigh leaked from her lips and nearly cracked my resolve. I locked it out, I fucking had to. She’d chosen her side—with them. Nine against one.

Jewel had sworn she believed I was innocent. Uncle John had told me he liked having me around. Mom had insisted Dad wasn’t a bank robber.

Everyone. Fucking. Lied.

As the sun bled into the western horizon, we reached Bruce’s place in the back paddock. It seemed to squat among the corn rows as if hiding. My pulse jumped. The far end of this paddock was where I’d first spotted the Fall Armyworm infestation.

I scanned the nearest stalks, searching for signs of those destructive little fuckers. The stalks slumped like dying soldiers, plastered with yellow patches and black spots. Fuck. The infestation had reached this far already. Those grubs were spreading like wildfire.

Or maybe they’d started here.

The whole paddock was rotting from the inside out. Those worms were gnawing through my future one goddamn leaf at a time like cancer in my cornfield. Not that it mattered anymore. The way these guys were circling like vultures, my farming days were probably already dead.

Bruce’s place was barely a house at all, just weathered boards gone cemetery-gray and a tin roof bleeding rust at the edges. Like something from those old westerns Dad and I used to watch with him in his favorite chair, and me sprawled on the carpet in front of the TV.

The memory ambushed me out of nowhere. Damn, Jewel for making me dig up ghosts I’d buried years ago.

I marched to the weathered steps to the veranda.

“Oy, Cody. That’s far enough.” The deep command cracked through the air like a whip.

I backed away from the steps as Blade, Viper, Maya, Lacey, and Tyler surged forward with their weapons drawn. Those guns were overkill. Bruce’s shack had no light filtering through the grimy windows and his sad excuse for curtains.

If that bastard was inside, he was sitting in the dark like the spider he was.

“Cody. I’m sorry about this.” Jewel’s voice trembled, and the sunset seemed to turn her tears to liquid gold.

“Yeah. Me too.” The words crunched like grit in my mouth.

Viper kicked down the door and the crack echoed across the field. The wood split like rotten bones, and the others poured in behind him, disappearing into the darkness.

Trying to avoid Jewel’s intense stare and annoying fidgeting, I focused on the open door, waiting for any one of them to emerge. The shack was barely bigger than a storage shed. They would clear it in seconds.

Maya emerged with defeat written all over her face. “All clear.”

Jewel’s shoulders sagged. Was that with relief? Or disappointment? It was hard to tell which way her loyalty was swinging now.

To hell with their warnings. I shouldered past the women and up those weathered steps. Time to see what Bruce was so damn determined to hide. The stench hit me first, stale beer, rotting food, and something darker underneath, a dead rat perhaps.

Dim light filtered through grimy windows, painting shadows across a sorry excuse for a living space.

The kitchen was a war zone of crusty plates and moldy leftovers. A half-empty bottle of Jack sat beside a graveyard of crushed beer cans next to a recliner that seemed to have absorbed years of Bruce’s sweat, and God knew what else. The old fabric had a gross, greasy sheen.

Shoving past Ryder and Maya, I aimed for the bedroom. The wardrobe doors hung open, revealing a jumble of empty hangers interspersed with clothes I’d never seen Bruce wear. The twisted bedsheets were half-pulled off, revealing a stained mattress that was fucking disgusting.

On the end of the bed lay a pair of dirty jeans tangled with a bloody shirt.

My blood ran cold. That was the shirt he’d worn when my bullet hit his shoulder.

Aria stood next to the bed, and her black eyes drilled into me like a jackhammer.

“That’s his blood. I shot him in his shoulder,” I said, showing zero remorse.

“Cody shot him defending me,” Jewel cut in, materializing at my elbow. “And I’ll swear to that in any court you want.”

We backed out of the bedroom like we were retreating from a crime scene and formed a loose circle in the main room. The stench of rot, decay, and something chemical that burned the back of my throat was stronger in that spot.

They all fixed their eyes on me and their judgmental expressions were carved from stone. Jewel’s expression hit me harder than any of their glares. She looked to be a twisted mess of confusion and disappointment, and something else that looked too much like pity for my comfort.

My head spun trying to make sense of everything. Bruce had practically threatened to put me in the ground if I came near this place. For what? This cesspool of empty bottles and dirty dishes?

I crossed my arms, letting my gaze slide from Ryder to Blade to Aria, attempting to figure out which one of these stone-faced pricks called the shots. Finally, I locked eyes with Jewel. “You believe me now?”

“Cody, I’m sorry.” Her voice cracked around the edges. “I was so certain there were drugs or . . . something. Especially after you mentioned Grant Hughes.”

“I told you nothing was going on.”

“I know.” She tilted her head. “I was wrong. I’m sorry.”

“We need to do a more thorough search.” Aria’s cold voice sliced through our moment. “Remember the shipping container we found underground in the Everglades?”

“Yeah,” Jewel said. “Every one of those corn fields could be concealing underground drug dens.”

Blade clicked his fingers. “Let’s get Jaxson and his K9 in here. That dog will sniff out?—”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” The words exploded out of me. “You guys are full of shit.”

I shot Jewel one last look, then stormed across the ratty rug and out into the dying sunlight. My cornfield swayed in the evening breeze as if demanding attention that I should have given it days ago. I strode to the edge of the field and my chest caved. Holes riddled the leaves, and the stalks had wilted and were yellowing. Fucking Fall Armyworm is everywhere.

I’d wasted days with Jewel’s bullshit when I should’ve been saving my crop. Grabbing a stalk, I tried to snap it off, but it bent like wet straw. When I stepped back, a sharp rock bit into my heel. I snatched it up and hurled it deep into my dying field.

The sunset painted everything blood-red. Fitting, really. My whole world was bleeding out.

Gravel crunched behind me. I didn’t need to turn. I knew it was Jewel, and I hated that my damn heart skipped a beat.

“Cody, I’m really sorry.” Her voice cracked.

I glanced at her and her damn glossy eyes made my anger crumble. “It’s fine, Jewel.”

“No. It’s not.” She stepped closer. “I was wrong. You’re a good man. A very good?—”

“Son of a bitch!” The shout boomed from Bruce’s shack.

We locked eyes before charging back up the stairs.

Inside, the ratty oriental rug had been shoved aside, revealing a bunch of floorboards that didn’t match . . . newer, lighter. Wrong.

Dead center was a trap door.