Chapter 43 #2
Gumbo snapped his jaws together with a sound like a gunshot. Someone—I couldn't tell who—actually whimpered.
"Here's what's going to happen," I said, stepping forward until I stood right beside Gumbo, one hand resting on his massive, armored back. "You're going to get up out of that mud. You're going to get back in your fancy cars. And you're going to drive away and never come back to my property again."
"This isn't over," Preston spat, struggling to his feet, his ruined suit dripping mud, his face twisted with humiliation and rage. "We have legal grounds—we'll take this to court—"
"Then I'll see you in court," I said simply, stroking Gumbo's scales, feeling him rumble with pleasure under my touch.
"But I should warn you. My pack includes a successful businessman with excellent lawyers.
" I nodded toward Harper. "A musician whose family has more money and connections than God.
" A nod toward Remy. "And a former special operations soldier who knows exactly how to make problems disappear.
" My eyes found Silas, who was still wearing that terrible smile.
"And that's not even counting my nine-foot alligator, who really doesn't like uninvited guests. "
Preston opened his mouth—maybe to threaten, maybe to argue, maybe just to salvage some scrap of dignity from the wreckage of this confrontation.
Harper moved before he could speak, stepping forward until his massive frame loomed over Preston like a mountain about to collapse.
"The lady told you to leave," he said, his voice a low rumble that seemed to vibrate in the chest, his gray eyes promising violence if the message wasn't received. "I won't ask again."
For a long, tense moment, nobody moved. The morning air hung thick with tension, with the smell of mud and fear-sweat and something primal.
Then Preston turned and fled.
There was no other word for it. He fled—stumbling through the mud toward the SUVs, his ruined dignity abandoned in the dirt. The other suits followed, practically climbing over each other to get to the vehicles. The sheriff lingered for just a moment, his weathered face troubled.
"Ma'am," he said quietly, his voice heavy with something that might have been shame. "I'm sorry. They said it was just a property dispute. I didn't know—"
"Tell your mama I said hello," I interrupted, my voice softer now, the feral edge receding. "She's a good woman. Raised you better than this."
He flinched like I'd slapped him, then nodded once and retreated to his cruiser.
We stood there—the four of us, plus Gumbo—and watched the SUVs back frantically down the dirt road, their fancy suspensions protesting every rut and root.
They didn't slow down until they hit the main road and disappeared around the bend.
The moment they were gone, Remy let out a whoop that startled birds from every tree in a hundred-foot radius.
"Did you see his face when Gumbo came out of the water?
" he crowed, his amber eyes bright with manic glee, his whole body vibrating with triumphant energy.
"I thought he was going to have a heart attack!
I thought I was going to have a heart attack! "
"The one in the gray suit wet himself," Silas observed, the ghost of a smile playing at his scarred lips, his pale eyes warm with something that looked suspiciously like pride. "Could smell it from the porch."
"You were incredible," Harper said, his voice rough with emotion as he turned to face me, his gray eyes soft despite the lingering tension in his massive frame. "You didn't need us at all. You handled them yourself."
"I did need you," I corrected, reaching out to take his hand, feeling his fingers curl around mine like he never wanted to let go. "I need all of you. That's what pack means."
Gumbo rumbled and nudged my hip with his massive snout, demanding attention. I laughed—a slightly hysterical sound—and reached down to scratch behind his eye ridges.
"Yes, you too," I murmured, feeling him melt under my touch like a scaly, prehistoric cat. "Very scary. Very impressive. Best guard dog in Louisiana."
He rumbled again, sounding insufferably smug.
"They'll be back," Silas said, his voice quiet but certain, his pale eyes fixed on the empty road. "This isn't over. They're embarrassed now, humiliated. That makes them dangerous."
"I know," I agreed, watching the dust settle where the SUVs had been. "But next time, we'll be ready. We'll have lawyers and documentation and whatever else we need to fight them in court instead of in my front yard."
"My family has connections," Remy said slowly, something complicated moving behind his amber eyes, his usual lightness replaced by something heavier. "Old connections. The kind that remember favors owed. I haven't talked to them in years, but for this—for you—I will."
"Remy," I said softly, reaching out to cup his face with my free hand, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath my palm. "You don't have to do anything you're not comfortable with."
"I want to," he said, his voice fierce and certain, his amber eyes burning with determination. "This is my home now. You're my home. And I'm done running from hard things."
Harper's hand tightened around mine. Silas moved closer, his shoulder brushing Remy's. Gumbo rumbled contentedly at my feet. We stood there together as the morning sun climbed higher, four people and one prehistoric reptile, united against whatever came next.
Let Crescent Holdings regroup. Let them bring their lawyers and their legal threats and their corporate intimidation tactics.
We'd be ready.
They still had no idea what they were really dealing with.