Chapter 21
MASON
I'm wrung out by the time I get home.
The drive back to Blackthorn Ranch is a blur—headlights cutting through darkness, my hands steady on the wheel even though my mind is anything but. I keep seeing her silhouette through that gap in the curtains. Keep feeling the weight of what I just did.
I want to go back, crawl through her window, and slip into bed with her. I want to spread her legs open and lap up the pleasure she gave herself.
The ranch is quiet when I pull in. Based on the cars next to the house, everyone’s home.
Jake and Emma probably turned in hours ago.
Jake can’t keep his hands off his woman—not that Emma’s any better.
Now that Emma’s pregnant, he does what he can to keep her busy so she isn’t fretting about Turner.
The confrontation six weeks ago changed everything.
Jake's always been protective—we call him Warden because he locks down what’s in his care tight and secure—but now he's a man who knows exactly what kind of threat is circling his family.
I picture Lily. I get it. I was invested before, but now? I will make sure that motherfucker disappears and that no one ever finds a scrap of him.
I kill the engine and sit in the silence for a moment, letting the adrenaline bleed out. My body's still wired from surveillance, from watching Lily move through her house like she's expecting an ambush at any second. From watching her do things I had no right to see.
Yet.
The kitchen light is on, and through the window I see Luke move through the room.
I should've known he'd be up. My brother doesn't sleep much these days—he’s restless.
That never bodes well.
There’s a reason we call Luke Riot. He’s chaos wrapped in charm.
He flirts like breathing, jokes at the worst possible moments, and somehow still manages to be the most reliable man I know.
Underneath the surfer grin and constant bullshit is a man wired for violence with hands steady enough to build a bomb or end a life without blinking.
Being a demolitions expert tells you everything you need to know about his brain. Precise. Patient. Slightly unhinged.
He's going to see right through me.
I push through the door and find him at the kitchen table, a bottle of beer in hand, our dog, Shadow, at his feet, and his laptop open in front of him. He looks up when I enter, takes one look at my face, and sets the bottle down slowly.
“You look like hell,” he says.
“Long night.” Setting my rifle down on the counter, I go to grab a beer too.
“Surveillance?”
I ignore the smirk I hear in his voice and pop the cap off the bottle to take a long swig.
“On Lily Carter.”
It's not a question. I’m not even sure why he’s stating it. I haven’t exactly been discreet in my fascination with her. I turn to face him, leaning back against the counter. “Yeah.”
Luke's expression doesn't change, but I see the calculation happening behind his eyes. He's putting pieces together—the nights I've been gone, the distraction I've been carrying, the way I've been preoccupied.
Tipping his chair back, he gives me a lazy smile. “She’s a vet. She’ll probably like this puppy-dog thing you’ve got going on.”
“Fuck you,” I say without any heat, because, damn it, he’s right. At this point, I’d roll over and let her scratch my belly just to feel her hands on me.
As if to drive it home, Shadow gets up, shakes, and ambles over to me, waiting for me to give him attention.
“You remember how a woman’s body works?” Luke asks, grinning like he thinks he’s funny. “It’s been a long time since you’ve seen one. I can draw you a diagram.”
I flash on Lily lying on her bed and the way she touched herself. I don’t need a diagram—I’ll remember what turned her on for the rest of my life. I just wonder if she’ll ever be in a place to trust me with her body.
Frowning, I take a deep breath and tell him. “She has a barcode tattoo. Inner wrist. Turner's network.”
Luke sits up, his chair hitting the tile floor with a thunk. All joking’s gone from his expression, replaced by sharp focus. “You saw it? There’s no question?”
“None.” I meet his eyes, crossing my ankles like I’m relaxed when I’m anything but.
“She's connected to Turner's operation somehow.
I don't know exactly how. I don't know what she's doing in Iron Ridge or what her endgame is, but she's connected. She almost passed out when Kelly, the new foreman, walked into the bar tonight.”
“Which confirms our suspicions that Kelly’s involved with more than just the ranch operation.” Luke studies me. “But you don’t think she's part of the trafficking?”
“No.” The word comes out hard, certain. “She's a survivor, Luke, not a perpetrator. There's a difference.”
“Is there?” Luke swings his legs up to prop his bare feet on the table, folding his arms across his chest. “Because from where I'm sitting, you've known this woman for what? A minute? And she came into Emma’s life when Turner was trying to force her to sell her ranch. She could be playing us all.”
I shake my head. “She’s not like that.”
“Based on what? What you know or your dick?” Luke lifts the bottle to his mouth, gaze steady on me.
“I feel it here.” I put a hand on my heart.
He studies me silently, the moment drawn out. “So what’s going on here really?” he asks finally. “You protecting her, or are you claiming her?”
I shrug. “Is there a difference?”
The corner of his mouth kicks up, and then he huffs a laugh. “On Blackthorn Ranch? Not at all.”