29. Lincoln
29
LINCOLN
Arden was twitchy. Not in a skittish way, but if I got too close, she put some distance between us. She thought I didn’t know that’s what she was doing, but she was wrong. Only I found it didn’t bother me this time. It was honestly adorable.
Because the thing Arden didn’t realize was that, even amid the push/pull of each interaction, I still ended up closer. To her scent. Her feel. Just her . And that was worth any price.
“Come on, Brutus,” I said, punching in the lock code to the front door. “I want you to know I got you a double patty. No singles for you. Think that means you won’t cockblock me next time?”
He looked up at me with eyes that said he thought I was ridiculous. He was probably right. I was having a full-on conversation with a dog.
A scream tore through the air like a lightning strike, hitting my ears like a bolt slamming into the ground. I was running before I could think twice. The food and drinks fell, spilling out over the front stoop.
The run to the workshop was quick, barely a couple of seconds, but it felt like a lifetime passed in those beats. A million what-ifs swirled. Countless fears.
Brutus pulled ahead, snarling, barking, and charging into the studio. A place where Arden stood frozen. I scanned her quickly, checking for injuries, but I didn’t see any. Then my attention moved to the room, looking for an intruder. No one.
But that’s when I saw it.
Arden’s workshop had been all but destroyed. Supplies were strewn across the room, broken and smashed. Canvases had been slashed by what must have been a knife. And the metal statue Arden had been working on was toppled to the ground. Whoever had done this wasn’t just angry.
They were enraged.
But it was more than that. Because beyond the destruction was the blood. Splashed on the walls, across the floor, coating her statue and the sliced canvases. And written on the far wall…
YOU CAN’T HIDE.
Fury coursed through me. It was as if whoever had done this had infected me with their rage. I moved into Arden’s space and pulled her against me. My hands slid over her body, searching for reassurance—for her, for me, for us both. She trembled, and that slight movement, so unlike Arden, only stoked the fury coursing beneath my skin.
“You’re okay.” My voice didn’t sound like mine. It was as if some robot had spoken the words.
Arden just shuddered against me in response.
Fuck.
“You’re okay.” I spoke the two words again like they would miraculously work this time. “Let’s get you back to the house. I’ll call Trace and?—”
“The horses.” Arden jolted, ripping herself from my arms and taking off at a run.
I cursed, quickly running after her, Brutus right by her side. We didn’t have the first clue if whoever had done this was still around, getting his rocks off by watching. Or worse, waiting to strike .
“Arden,” I barked. “We need to get to the house. We need cover and to call the fucking cops.”
She sent me a look that should’ve had my skin blistering. “They are mine. They save me over and over, just like my art. I’m not leaving them alone.”
Hell.
I didn’t argue. I simply pulled out my phone and hit Trace’s contact as I scanned the surroundings. He answered on the second ring. “Everything okay?”
“No.”
“Talk,” he clipped, but I could hear him already moving through the station.
“Someone trashed Arden’s studio. Left behind a threatening message and a lot of blood.” I didn’t want to think about what that blood could be from.
“Get her somewhere safe and lock yourselves in. I’m on my way and sending units.”
“That might be a problem,” I muttered.
Arden rushed to the fence line, slipping between the rails and into the pasture. Her two horses moved to her instantly, and I watched as her shoulders sagged in relief at the sight of no visible injuries on the animals. She pressed her head to the gray one’s as the tan nuzzled her neck.
It was only then that Arden’s shoulders began to shake. She made no noise as the sobs broke free, but the force of them racked her whole body.
And I wanted to kill whoever had done this.
“Linc,” Trace growled.
“She wants to stay with the horses,” I said quietly.
“Of course, she does,” Trace muttered as a door slammed, then sirens flared to life. “Don’t leave her.”
“I’m not going anywhere.” The call disconnected, and I followed Arden into the pasture. But I didn’t move into her huddle. I knew the creatures she was with now gave her something I couldn’t. The only thing I could do was stand guard, making sure no harm came to any of them.
I scanned the forest and the buildings in an irregular pattern, over and over until Arden finally broke away from her horses. She was facing away from me, but I still saw her putting the armor back on. Her spine straightened, her shoulders squared, and she breathed deeply. Then, she turned.
Arden’s eyes were red and a little glassy, but those were the only signs of her tears as sirens sounded in the distance. She crossed to me, a hardness settling into those gray-violet eyes, the gray taking over now. “If you tell anyone I cried, I’ll put ex-lax in your coffee.”
I wanted to smile but couldn’t quite get there. “Noted. Now, come here.”
Arden shook her head, wisps of deep brown hair falling free of her haphazard bun.
“Vicious,” I warned.
She came then, stopping when we were toe-to-toe. I stared at her for one beat, two. Then I pulled her to me. She nuzzled in, letting me hold her, giving me what I needed: to know she was okay. Or at least that she would be.
The sirens grew louder, and a parade of sheriff’s department vehicles kicked up dust. The horses whinnied and shied away from the sound, put on edge by the intrusion. I kept hold of Arden as most stopped at the workshop and guesthouse. One squad car and an SUV came toward the barn.
Trace was out of the vehicle in a flash, striding toward us with a fury I’d never seen before on his face. “Is she okay?” he barked.
Arden pulled back. “I’m fine, but my horses won’t be if your deputies don’t cut their sirens.”
Trace sent something over the radio. Slowly but surely, all the sirens silenced.
Arden let out a long breath. “Thank you.”
Trace ducked between the fence rails and moved to his sister, giving her a quick hug. “You sure you’re all right?”
“Better now. Finding my mad. ”
One corner of Trace’s mouth kicked up. “You always did do better when you found your mad.”
Her lips twitched. “I find out who did this; they’re likely to lose a ball.”
“Just one?” I asked, a hint of humor finally bleeding into my voice.
“I’m not a monster,” Arden said, brushing hair from her face.
Someone in uniform jogged toward us from the workshop. Trace’s gaze tracked them instantly. The deputy, who looked a few years younger than Trace, slowed, his tan complexion a little sallow as unease slid over his features. “It’s bad, boss.”
“Talk to me,” Trace ordered.
The deputy’s gaze flicked to Arden and then back to Trace. “Never seen anyone that mad. It’s like he was slaughtering her studio.”
So, what did that say about what he wanted to do to Arden?