Chapter Six
Avery stood in the small bathroom, the scent of soap and clean cotton filling the air. She pulled on her jeans and the T-shirt she’d washed the night before, the fabric still stained from her hiding out in the woods, but they were at least clean.
Her reflection in the mirror looked pale and hollow-eyed. The few hours of restless sleep she’d managed hadn’t helped. The nightmares hadn’t stopped, circling like vultures.
Every time she closed her eyes, she saw the same flashes. The fireball swallowing Jackson’s house. The shockwave slamming through the SUV. Warren’s voice in her head, smiling and lying. Then that last sound on Mick Barker’s call. The gunshot, sharp and final, cutting everything off.
She splashed water on her face, trying to wash it all away, but it clung to her like smoke.
Had that been real?
She didn’t know anymore. Maybe Mick had staged it. Maybe it was some trick, something his mother or Darian had forced him to do to lure them out. It wouldn’t have been the first time the Brotherhood used bait to draw someone in.
But if it was real—if that shot had killed him—then she couldn’t shake the ache that twisted through her chest. Mick Barker was only twenty-two. Too young to be trapped in a world like his parents’.
She closed her eyes and took a slow breath.
Jackson had been right. Meeting with Mick would’ve been too risky. They didn’t know who was pulling the strings or who was listening.
Avery finished dressing, tugging her shirt into place before stepping into the hall. The cabin was small, so it didn’t take long to find Jackson. He was in the kitchen, sitting at the table with his laptop open, a half-empty mug of coffee beside him.
Morning light streamed through the window, glinting off the dark strands of his hair.
Black and a little too long, it curled slightly at the ends, brushing the collar of his T-shirt.
His face was rugged, all hard edges and quiet strength, the kind of man who carried his scars like armor.
Even sitting still, there was a restless energy about him, a readiness that never seemed to fade.
He looked up when she entered, and their gazes locked. For a moment, neither of them said anything. The air between them shifted, heavy with things that didn’t need words.
He was still handsome. Too handsome. The kind of man who filled a room without trying.
Heat stirred low in her chest, uninvited and impossible to ignore. She pushed it aside, telling herself it was nothing but old chemistry, muscle memory from another life.
Yes, Jackson Ward had once been her lover. And yes, that pull between them would probably never go away. But this wasn’t the time or the place for any of that.
She took a steady breath and moved closer to the table, forcing her focus back to the present. “You’ve been up a while,” she said.
He nodded, closing the laptop partway. “Couldn’t sleep. Figured I’d get a head start on what we’re dealing with.”
Avery poured herself a cup of coffee, the rich scent filling the small kitchen. The warmth seeped into her hands, grounding her. On the counter beside Jackson’s laptop, a small box sat open. Inside were a few pastries.
Jackson caught her looking and gave a faint shrug. “Sorry it’s not a better breakfast. I keep mostly frozen stuff around here.”
She smiled, the first genuine one since this whole ordeal had started. “I’m not about to complain about the menu. I’m beyond thankful you’re keeping me safe.”
He met her eyes for a second before looking back at the laptop. “You’re welcome.”
She took a seat across from him, breaking off a piece of pastry. “Any updates?”
“Nothing on Mick,” he said right off. “Noah’s inside man tried to check on him, but he couldn’t find him. No sign of him anywhere.”
Avery’s chest tightened. “You think he’s dead?”
Jackson’s jaw shifted slightly, a muscle ticking there. “I think it’s possible. If they killed him, they’ve already started the next part of their plan.”
She looked down at her coffee, her voice barely a whisper. “Planting evidence. Framing me.”
“Yeah,” he agreed. “I’ve already alerted Noah and Sheriff Chase to that possibility. They’re watching for anything that links back to you.”
Avery set her mug down, the sound too loud in the still room. “If they’ve already planted something, what happens when the police find it? I’ll be arrested. I’ll be pulled out of hiding.”
“That’s probably what they want,” Jackson said. “If you’re arrested or even brought in for questioning, you’d have to come out into the open. It’d make it easier for them to get to you.”
Avery’s stomach turned. So either she stayed hidden or came out and got killed. Not exactly stellar choices.
Jackson leaned back in his chair, his coffee mug turning slowly in his hand. “There’s one more thing,” he said. “Sheriff Chase finally got through the Brotherhood’s legal wrangling. Charlotte, Darian, and Mick are all scheduled to come in for questioning later today.”
Avery straightened, her pulse quickening. “Good. Maybe we’ll finally hear what they have to say.”
He gave a small nod. “Maybe.”
She stared down into her coffee, watching the steam rise in thin curls. “I’m not holding my breath. Without evidence, there’s only so much the sheriff can do.”
Jackson didn’t argue. His silence said enough.
Avery looked up at him again. “Charlotte and Darian won’t tell her anything. They’re too smart for that. They’ll lie, twist the story, make it sound like I’m the one who’s unstable. And if Mick’s still alive, I don’t know what he’ll say either.”
“He’s a wildcard,” Jackson said quietly. “If he really was trying to warn us, he’s already in danger. If he was lying, this questioning might flush him out.”
Avery took another sip of coffee, trying to ignore the knot in her stomach. “I just want to know the truth. Even if it hurts.”
Jackson’s gaze held hers for a moment, steady and certain. “You will,” he said. “One way or another.”
She nodded, but the unease in her chest didn’t ease. The Brotherhood was too good at slipping through cracks. And without evidence, the sheriff wouldn’t be able to hold them for long.
“I’ve been thinking about how to handle all of this,” she said.
He watched her closely, waiting.
“We can’t stay hidden forever,” she went on. “And I can’t trust the authorities to keep me safe. The Brotherhood’s always been a step ahead of the system. The only way to stop them is to get evidence that’ll shut them down for good.”
Jackson nodded slowly. “Easier said than done.”
“I know,” she agreed. “But we have to start somewhere. And I think I know where that is.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Go on.”
“Warren,” she said. “If I can get him to admit he sold me out to the Brotherhood, that’ll give Sheriff Chase something to build on. Even if it’s circumstantial, it’s a link between him and Darian, and that might be enough to open up an investigation.”
Jackson’s expression darkened. “You want to see him.”
“I need to,” she insisted. “He works from a remote location most days. It’s about an hour from here, in the middle of nowhere. If I go there, I can confront him face to face.”
Jackson’s eyes narrowed. “And you think he’s just going to confess?”
“No,” she said. “But I can try to tap into the feelings he has for me. I can maybe try to play along with those feelings to get him to talk.”
Her voice broke a little at the end, and she looked away, drawing in a breath to steady herself. “I trusted him, Jackson. He wasn’t just my boss. He believed in what I was doing—or at least he made me think he did.”
For the first time that morning, a spark of purpose replaced the exhaustion in her chest. If Warren had betrayed her, she’d make him face it.
One way or another, she was done running.
Jackson let out a sharp huff and shook his head. “No. It’s too dangerous.”
Avery leaned forward, her hands pressing flat on the table. “It doesn’t have to be. We can do this smart.”
He gave her a hard look, the kind that usually ended a conversation. “Avery, I’m not walking you into a setup.”
“You won’t be,” she said quickly. “Listen, we could park near the house and run surveillance first. Make sure no one from the Brotherhood is around. You’ve got that heat scanner, right? We can use it to check the place before I even go in.”
Jackson’s jaw flexed, his expression unreadable. “That’s not the point. He sold you out once. You really think he won’t do it again if they’re paying him?”
“Maybe he will,” she said, her voice tight, “but I need to know. I can’t just sit here, hiding, waiting for someone else to make the next move. I need the truth.”
He didn’t answer, and she could see he was about to shut her down. The look in his eyes said he’d already made up his mind, but she wasn’t finished.
“Please, Jackson.” Her voice softened. “I feel like a coward sitting here, waiting for the next attack. I need to know what we’re facing. If Warren will talk, if he’ll give us anything that ties him to the Brotherhood, then this could be our way to bring them down.”
He looked at her for a long moment, the silence heavy between them.
Avery held her breath, watching him weigh the risk. She could see the battle in his eyes—the soldier in him calculating every threat, and the man in him who didn’t want to see her hurt again.
Finally, he exhaled, low and slow.
Jackson didn’t say anything at first. He stared at his coffee, then at her, the muscles in his jaw far from being relaxed. Finally, he gave a short nod. “All right. We’ll do it. But we do it my way.”
Relief washed through her, sharp and immediate. She didn’t give him a chance to change his mind. She gulped down the rest of her coffee and set the cup in the sink. Jackson was already on his feet, grabbing his gear bag and checking his weapons.
They moved quickly. Years of training and habit made his motions precise. Avery followed his lead, vesting up and checking the small handgun he handed her.