UNTAMED

38. Holden

Warner paces against the back wall of the holding cell they’ve allowed us to meet in. I forgot how cold and boring being behind bars was. Unsurprisingly, I didn’t sleep a wink last night.

“Cash should be there now, and once he meets with Pike, we’ll have more answers. You’ll be getting out of here by end of day.”

I stare up at the ceiling as I lie on the cot, my mind trailing back to yesterday morning when the police nearly busted down the door of our hotel room.

Rosie turned me in. She called her father to come arrest me.

For some reason, that knowledge makes me feel cold from the inside.

“You’ve been doing great. Everything you’ve told them is exactly what you should say. Once we have the phone, the evidence of who the real kidnapper is should be more than enough to exonerate you. Nothing else was recovered at the scene to incriminate you. Whatever Rosie Dixon has to say is the only wild card. Sheri never saw the face of her kidnappers. You have plenty of alibis for the amount of time she was missing,” Warner continues.

The choice to fly to Portland and not to carry a handgun with me turned out to be incredibly vital.

“What do you think she’ll say?” he finally asks.

What an excellent question.

Rosie Dixon’s facial expression as she gave me head in the shower, followed by the way she clung to my shoulders while I plunged inside her during the middle of our last night together, flashes through my memory.

I chuckle, rising to a standing position. “Your guess is as good as mine.”

Because right after that, while I was sleeping in her arms, she betrayed me. The ache in my chest throbs like a festering wound, one that’ll need a lifetime to heal—if it doesn’t kill me.

Warner’s phone starts to ring, the vibration filling the cell. He looks up at me as he answers it, rubbing his hand over his beard.

“Cash.”

I listen on the other side of the call, gathering that Jed’s cell records indicate his communication with a man named Ethan Harlen. Harlen’s texts revealed the payment method and timeline of the kidnapping plans, which dated back to the day after I was released from prison.

“Who is Ethan Harlen?” Cash says over the phone, the airport speaker in the background of the call.

I release a breath. “He’s Mayor Dixon’s assistant.”

Warner turns to me. “They’ll let you out as soon as I go to the sheriff with the phone and tell him that it was recovered near the cabin on Redford Ranch. I’ll tell him you weren’t sure if it belonged to the kidnapper or not, so you sent it off to have the deleted history recovered. With the recovered data, it’s clear that it did belong to the kidnapper, Jed. The ransom video Rosie had been forced to record was on it, as well as the person who it was sent to—Ethan Harlen.”

The cool Decemberbreeze at the ranch brings a peaceful serenity over me. Dirt clods crunch under my boots as I walk out to the barn with a glass of whiskey in my hand. The orange-and-purple hues of a West Texas sunset send rays of warmth over my skin, but they don’t go deep enough to affect my heart.

I’ve been home for a week now. The range of emotions I’ve been experiencing has a touch of rage, remorse, bitterness, and desperation all mixed in.

I haven’t seen or heard from Rosie. Warner has threatened me not to reach out to her. Dolly is solemn, walking around the house with a permanent frown on her lips and wet eyes. She’s been interviewing housekeepers, all of them plump and nearing fifty.

I guess she’s sick of her brothers sleeping with the help.

Sterling informed us tonight at dinner that he signed a four-year contract with the Marines. It didn’t surprise any of us, and we drank to him serving our country. He’ll ship off in the next few months for basic training.

If I wasn’t needed at the ranch to figure out how the fuck to make a profit with all the other ranchers using M-59 on their cattle and sinking our profits, I might be tempted to enlist.

A group of cowboys is laughing and drinking around a firepit near the bunk room. One of them is strumming on a guitar. They all have bottled beer in their hands. Their cowboy hats have seen better days, but they get the job done. Duke is among them, animatedly telling them his latest hunting story. Cash sits back on a log with a firelit smile on his face.

“She hated when I hunted, couldn’t stand the sight of it,” Duke finishes.

“I heard a rumor about the mayor’s daughter, that you and she never sealed the deal, Redford.”

My chest tightens as I look up at my little brother’s expression.

His bright blue eyes meet mine. “Nah, that was kid shit, ya know? We never got that far.”

“Damn, I’d be willing to bet she’s had it popped by now, but if not, I’d love to be the man who has the chance to,” the one with the thick beard says. He leans forward, nearly falling out of his seat due to intoxication.

Jensen grins. “You fellas haven’t forgotten the bet, have you? I say the winner also gets a hundred bucks from each of us.”

I drain the rest of the amber liquid in my glass, hurling the glass into the fire, causing it to erupt in a small burst of flames. “Whoever wins that bet will answer to me, and he won’t be breathing when I’m done.”

My tone is casual, but the entire group stiffens and silences. I make eye contact with Duke, who stares at me for a few seconds before smirking and throwing his head back with a bark of laughter.

“Fuck, you know the world is cruel when your big brother starts saying shit like that about your ex.”

The men around the fire look at each other with curious glances, studying my and Duke’s faces.

He winks at me over the fire before chugging down the remainder of his beer and lifting the empty bottle in my direction. “If you can convince her to ever set foot back on this ranch, brother, she’s yours.”

The men around the fire roar with laughter and a couple of yee-haws.

I accept a fresh beer from one of them, tipping the contents over my lips. “How about we settle that nasty little dispute we had over her right here, right now?”

Duke’s smile fades from his lips. “Why? So your psycho, prison-fighter ass can bloody my face up again? No thanks.”

“She’s not worth it to you,” I realize with a muse.

He tilts his head to the side. “At one point, she was. Not anymore.”

Cash stands up, swaying on his feet. His phone starts to buzz in his pocket. My senses heighten at the sound. He fishes it out of his jeans before swiping to answer.

“Hello?”

The person on the other end speaks for a minute. The men around the fire continue drinking and talking as Cash starts walking toward the house, phone still pressed to his ear. I follow him, ignoring Duke’s eyes on me.

“Yeah, okay, I’ll get back to you,” Cash says.

“Who is it?” I ask.

He hangs up the phone, shaking his head with a chuckle. “You’re not going to believe this.”

“What?” I ask.

He exhales. “Monroe Blue wants me on her security detail.”

I stare at him. We stop on the front porch while he chugs his beer.

“The country singer? The one you saved from that freak onstage?”

“That’s the one.”

“How much?”

He shakes his head. “Doesn’t matter. I’m not taking the job. I’m not a bodyguard. I’m a rancher.”

I study him for a few moments as the song of crickets fills the night.

“They’re not coming for you, and you’re not going back to jail. They don’t have shit on us,” he says.

I step into the house with him. “Once Warner files our suit against Clay Dixon, we’re gonna need those cattle sales we’re not getting.”

We walk through the living room and into the kitchen, where Cash grabs us two more beers from the fridge in the oversize pantry.

“Mayor Dickhead has run out of options. His boys fucked up when they left Jed there alone and you found him by tracking her phone. They’d underestimated us. They made the case national news, and with the calls and connections Warner has made through it all, they can’t get away with a small-town cover-up again.”

Word broke two days ago that I was released from jail due to new evidence uncovering another suspect. The media frenzy surrounding the story has only circulated more and more attention, partially due to my mugshot next to Rosie’s picture, which has turned into a meme online about how being kidnapped by certain felons wouldn’t be all bad.

Rosie has yet to make any public statements. It’s unclear if that’s because her father won’t let her or if she’s declining to. Warner and Cash have both threatened to take my phone away if I try texting or calling her. Right now, I have to lie low while the investigation reveals my innocence.

I tip the beer back over my lips as Dolly enters the room, her phone pressed up to her ear and a small smile on her face.

“Yeah, I know. I think the whole thing is bizarre. I’ve never cried so much in my life.” She rummages around in the fridge, pulling out some hummus and baby carrots, a block of cheese, and some salami.

Cash and I watch her curiously as she chuckles, shaking her head at something the person said on the other end of the phone. After grabbing a sleeve of crackers from the pantry, she starts making herself a snack plate. Her eyes flick up to meet mine, then Cash’s before she gasps, her hand covering her mouth.

“You did what?”

Her wide eyes move back to mine as her mouth forms an O. She stands, frozen in silence, as the other person continues speaking, but Dolly’s eyes stay locked on to mine.

“Who is it?” I finally whisper.

She slowly forms a smile, shaking her head. “Ew, TMI! That’s far enough. I don’t need any more details. Holy shit.”

The hair on my forearm starts to rise as I walk over to where she is, dipping my head lower toward the speaker of her phone. She swats my shoulder hard before grabbing her plate and walking out of the kitchen.

“Yeah, well, when I see you tomorrow, you and I have much to discuss.” Her voice travels from the hallway until she shuts the door of her room.

I turn to Cash, folding my arms over my chest. “Since when does Dolly have any friends besides Rosie?”