Chapter 3 Willa
Willa
Dean’s eyes are dark as night as he hovers over me with my back pressed flush to the floor. One of his legs is between mine. He braces one arm at the side of my head. His other reaches for his gun.
“Stay down.”
“Dean—”
“Willa, I swear to God if you don’t stay down right now, I’m going to unleash all that is unholy on your ass later.”
I bite my lip, sure he intended for it to be a threat. But with his thigh pressing against me and his warmth making it difficult to think straight, it’s impossible to ignore how hard my heart beats for him.
“Fuck.” Dean shakes his head like he read my thoughts. “You’re going to get me killed. Stay down.”
He shoves off me but keeps low to the ground, and I don’t move. As fun as it is pushing Dean to his limits, this isn’t the time. The last thing I want is for him to get hurt because of me.
The door swings open, and Soul rushes in with another man right behind him. His patch says Venom, complementing the lethal rage brewing in his dark eyes. His tattooed fingers tighten around his gun, but he’s calm, like what’s happening isn’t unusual.
I suppose, to them, it probably isn’t.
“What’s going on out there?” The authority in Dean’s voice makes my belly flutter.
I’ve seen many versions of Dean Graham over the years. The troublemaking teenager. The difficult ranch hand. But I’ve never seen this version of him. Collected and confident with bullets flying.
Dean crouches by the window, joining Soul, who is firing the occasional shot out the window between rounds below. Venom ducks down by Dean, and they all pull back as firing starts from the other side again.
“Two guys in a truck rolled up and started shooting the second they spotted me.” Venom glances over his shoulder when the gunshots stop, and Soul uses the opportunity to start firing again.
“We’ve got them pinned down right now, but I can’t see shit from up here.” Dean takes aim but doesn’t pull the trigger yet.
“Want me to go around back? See if we can sneak up on them there?” Venom asks.
Dean is about to answer when the guys in the parking lot start shooting again. This time, they don’t let up. There are so many bullets, holes grow in the walls. Bullets make Swiss cheese of the curtains. There’s no break and no running.
“Shit.” All three of them duck down as low as they can get.
Dean keeps his gun close to his chest, ready for anything, while I stay curled at the edge of the bed, still lying on the floor.
Maybe this is it.
All it would take is one bullet to put an end to everything.
Maybe that’s my karma.
I’ve spent a decade fighting for the wrong cause. Being on the wrong side. Up until today, I’d all but accepted it and checked out of my life. Maybe the universe decided I’ve had enough chances. That I don’t get any more opportunities to make it right.
Maybe this is how I die.
My gaze fixes on Dean’s, and he shakes his head once, like he senses the storm brewing in my thoughts. He’s always been the pinnacle of strength in the madness. I only wish I could have been strong as well.
At least I got to see Dean one last time. I took the risk and got in my car. I got to see that he’s fine without me—that life didn’t break him. If I make it to tomorrow, I’ll leave knowing he found a way out the other side of the mess I made.
A bullet skims the air, so close I feel the breeze.
It’s worth it to die like this, looking into his eyes. I hope he finds a way to use the information I gave him to fix what I couldn’t.
My eyes close, and I wait for the end. But suddenly, gunfire ceases. Dean shoots to his feet with Soul and Venom right behind him. They barely have two shots off when car doors slam, and tires peel against the pavement.
“Damn it. They’re getting away.” Venom starts to rush for the door, but Soul stops him with an arm across his chest.
“Ghost will track them down. It’s not worth it when we don’t know what we’re dealing with.”
Venom nods, obeying the order, but not looking happy about it as he grips his gun. His gaze moves from Dean to Soul, finally pausing on me as I peel myself off the floor.
Dean offers me a hand, but I don’t take it.
“Hey,” I say to Venom, brushing my hair off my face.
Venom jerks his chin in hello but doesn’t say anything. His eyes don’t linger.
Soul’s phone rings, cutting through the tension.
“Prez,” he answers, and I can vaguely hear an angry voice on the other end of the line.
“They just left… One truck, two guys, no bikes, and no cuts…” Soul’s gaze lifts to Dean, and they have a silent conversation that Dean seems to understand because he nods once in response to an unspoken question.
“He thinks so… Got it. We’ll be back in thirty. ”
Soul tucks his phone into his pocket, and he glances at Venom before eyeing the things in my room. “Prez wants us back at the clubhouse ASAP. I’ll clear the bathroom.”
“I’ll get the rest,” Venom says, reaching for a stack of clothes on the bed and shoving them into my bag.
“Wait! What are you doing? Why are you touching my things?” I rush forward, but Dean stops me, so I glare up at him. “I’m not going with you.”
“I already told you that you are.”
“You don’t get to tell me what to do.” I wave a hand to the envelope on the table. “I came here to help you, and I did. But this doesn’t involve me. I’m leaving.”
“No, you’re not.”
“Dean—”
“Willa, look at me.” Dean grabs my arms, not hard but with enough force that my gaze finally snaps to his. And that’s when I finally accept that the sharpness in his tone isn’t anger. It’s fear.
“What’s wrong?” My throat tightens. I’m starting to come down from the adrenaline, and my head is pounding. “What are you not telling me?”
He loosens his grip and steps closer. His fingers tangle with the hair at the side of my head, tucking it behind my ears. Which is when I realize my ponytail is an absolute mess. But he doesn’t seem to mind as he trails his fingers through the dark strands.
Dean stands in front of me, his body telling a story of a man I used to know. Of a life he’s lived. Of all the things I’ve missed. They’re written in scars and callouses. In lines where his eyebrows furrow.
His eyes are dark in a way that extends beyond how deeply brown they are. Something greater that casts shadows on the hazel threads throughout them. If I thought the fire in them snuffed out after his mother died, I was wrong. They’re a furnace of emotions.
“You’re coming with me to the clubhouse.” He clears his throat, snapping me out of my thoughts.
“I already told you I’m not here on a mission for your brother. I’m not lying to you.”
“I believe you.”
“You do?” My eyebrows pinch. “But a moment ago—”
“The truck had Texas plates, Willa.” Dean cuts me off.
I shake my head, taking a step back. “That’s not possible. I didn’t use Kincaid’s credit card. Or my father’s. No one knows where I am. And even if they did, this doesn’t make sense.”
Everything is coming out in half a thought.
Why would Kincaid send people after me?
When I left, he was still happily busy between my sister’s legs.
I told him he could forget he ever knew my name, and he seemed fine with that.
He might have held onto me this long, but we both knew it was over.
And now that Kincaid and Tate cut my father out of the picture, they didn’t need me at all.
Unless it isn’t about me, but who I’m with. Of all the places I went when I left town, I ran to his brother.
I don’t realize I’m shaking my head until Dean grips my chin between his thumb and forefinger, stopping me. He steps close again, tipping my face up to his.
“Do you understand what I’m saying, Willa?”
“Are you sure?”
He nods. “The back of the truck had an Ironside Ridge decal on it.”
Dean’s grandfather’s ranch.
My teeth clench, and fear turns to anger. It stokes this resentful beast inside me. I’ve given up everything for Kincaid. My happiness. My heart. My life. And he has the nerve to send his men after me?
“Fuck him.” I take a step back, grabbing my purse.
“Willa.” My name is a threat, but I ignore it.
“Seriously, Dean. Fuck your brother. And fuck you while we’re at it. I guess this is what I get for trying to help. Your entire family is infuriating.”
When I step around Dean, Venom pauses in the doorway with his arms crossed, blocking my path.
I glance over my shoulder at Dean. “Tell him to move.”
“Sorry, princess. No can do.”
“You’re kidnapping me?”
“Only if you fight me on it.” He smirks like he hopes I will, which shouldn’t make my cheeks as warm as it does.
“Fine,” I agree, burying that thought. “But we’ll see how long I stay there.”
Plopping into a chair, I watch as the three men gather my things. I don’t bother to help. And I definitely don’t think about the fact that I’ve somehow made myself Dean Graham’s hostage. Nothing good comes from being in his crosshairs.
Nothing good at all.
Texas heat is blistering. Even the breeze is muggy. My thighs stick to the seat as I climb out of the truck. Sweat drips down the back of my neck, so I tie my hair in a high ponytail.
It does little to cut the sweltering heat.
My gaze lifts to the dusty ranch I’ll be calling home now. The welcome sign hangs at an angle, and the gate creaks with every small shift in the breeze.
I miss Colorado.
I miss the mountains that framed the far end of the Harrison family ranch.
I miss the endless fields of flowers.
I miss my friends.
My house.
I miss knowing where to go when I needed room to think.
To breathe.
Wiping sweat off my forehead, I chide myself for being selfish.
Grandma can’t take care of Grandpa’s land by herself.
And while Dad’s money cleared the mountain of debt, she needs help working the land.
She’s doing this all on her own while still grieving.
And here I am, annoyed that my life has been uprooted in my first year in high school.
Still, I can’t bury my frown as I kick at the dirt. No shade to block the sweltering sun.
Dad slams the truck door, and I jump, earning a frown from Mom. It’s not my fault that Dad has me constantly on edge. He’s never raised a hand to any of us, but there are other ways to make a person feel worthless. Dad is well-versed in those methods.
“Chin up.” Dad looks from me to Eden. “Make yourselves presentable. You’re both a mess. You look like we’ve been driving all day.”
We have been driving all day. But I don’t bother saying that because it won’t go over well. I fix my hair and then help Eden with hers. She’s only a year younger than me, but she’s the baby of the family, so Dad treats her like she needs to be protected at all costs.
I love my sister, but I can’t stand how they look at her like she’s the embodiment of innocence—of perfection. While I walk on eggshells and it’s still barely good enough.
We’ve always been held to two different sets of expectations.
Sometimes I wish he’d decide I’m not worth it and just move on to her instead of trying to mold me into whatever he thinks the eldest daughter should embody.
But that would leave Eden at the mercy of him, and resentment aside, I don’t necessarily want that either.
“Gordon Elliott?” A deep voice comes from the other side of the truck, and Dad circles to meet with the man who called his name.
“That’s me.” Dad smiles—charming and enigmatic.
The kind of smile that makes it difficult for someone who doesn’t know him well enough to see the person he is beneath.
“I’m Tate Paul.” The man reaches a hand between them. “I own the ranch next door. We thought we would stop by to welcome you and your family to the community. Your father was a pillar in this town. He’ll be missed.”
“He will,” Dad agrees, shaking Tate’s hand. “My father mentioned you. You had grazing arrangements with him if I recall correctly.”
“We did. We looked out for each other during tough times. That’s what we stand by here in Lanceleaf.” Tate grins, but something about it is unsettling.
Dad either doesn’t notice or doesn’t mind. He’s always working an angle. Looking for a way to use the people around him.
“Well, I hope we can continue to help each other out,” Dad says.
“Of course.”
Something about the grins on their faces feels like I’m watching deals being made between devils.
“Very good.” Tate steps back, and two teenage boys come into view.
One has darker hair than the other, and when his eyes meet mine, I freeze. My tongue swells in my mouth as I recognize the boy I caught smoking behind the feed store last month when we were in town moving the first load of our things. The one who took the fall for me with the video game.
I still can’t believe I didn’t just turn back around and explain to the store owner what happened. It was a simple mistake that had nothing to do with me.
Has it really come to this? I fear my father’s wrath enough to commit a crime and let someone else take the fall?
Guilt swells in my chest as I frown at him, but he doesn’t look the least bit upset. If anything, I swear he’s smirking.
“This is my son, Kincaid.” Tate shoves one brother forward.
Kincaid’s eyes glow as they sweep me and my sister over. He must be my age. His brown hair shines copper in the sun, and his grin is perfectly white.
“And this…” Tate shoves the dark-haired boy forward. “This is my stepson, Dean.”
Dean.
I roll that name over in my mind. The boy who took the fall for me.
I dare to look up at him when he steps forward, and I find that he hasn’t taken his eyes off me. The corner of his mouth lifts in a devious smile.
He’s trouble, like the kind I recognized the first time I laid eyes on him. Trouble I can’t afford if I want to stay in my father’s good graces.
Trouble I might like.