Chapter Nine
GEMMA
I’ve never felt more alive.
Or more terrified.
Dallas stands at the small motel window, already dressed, and already distant.
Ready to go to war with whoever is threatening us.
The man who held me last night, who made love to me multiple times and whispered my name like I was his, is gone.
In his place is the one who eliminates marks with practiced ease.
He thinks I don’t see the shift, but I do.
He turns slightly, checking the parking lot again. Always scanning. Always calculating.
He’s leaving, and this time, it won’t be to grab breakfast. Once he delivers me to his brother Bronco in White Falls, he’s going to confront his boss.
My chest tightens. “Dallas.”
He meets my eyes but doesn’t move closer. “Yes, honey.”
The softness in the nickname almost undoes me. Tears sting my eyes like little needles. “You don’t get to tuck away last night like one of your weapons and then pretend it didn’t matter.”
His expression darkens. “It matters,” he says, low and rough. "That's... not what this is."
"Then what is it? Because it feels like this was only temporary. Like I’m temporary."
That hits him.
Good. Because I see him. I’m choosing him—if he’ll let me.
Dallas swears and stalks to me, pulling me into his arms. He presses his cheek to my hair and drags in an audible breath. "Going home," he rasps. "Facing people as the man I am. Not what they want me to be."
Oh.
I know what it's like to want to be loved for who you are, and how it feels when they don't. I wrap my arms around his waist and hold him close. "Trust them to see the man I do," I whisper against his chest.
"If they can't?" The pain in his voice breaks me.
"You'll still have me." I don't know if that's enough. It's all I have to give.
He crushes me in his embrace, bending down to bury his face in my neck. His lips tremble when he places a small kiss there.
"I love you, Gemma," he says, the words rough like they were dragged out of him.
My heart does a somersault in my chest, then beats so hard I can hear it in my ears. "I love you too, Dallas."
I don't know how it happened. Somewhere between a kiss over ice cream and making love to him last night, I found the man beneath the ice, and he's everything I've ever wanted.
He holds me for a few more minutes, then presses a hard kiss to my lips. "Let's go. Bronco is expecting us."
Dallas takes my hand and together, we drive to White Falls and an unknown future.
The mountains rise in the distance, sharp and spectacular. The swamps of Louisiana have their own beauty, but nothing so majestic as the glacier peaks ahead.
Dallas turned off the interstate onto a county road, driving the route as if he's taken it a hundred times. With each mile, he tenses more.
Until the sign appears.
Welcome to White Falls. Population 3,302.
Dallas slows the truck, then stops ten feet from it.
The engine idles.
His hands tighten on the steering wheel until his knuckles pale.
I study his profile and the hard line of his jaw.
The man walks through gunfire without flinching, but this scares him.
Not Roark.
Not war.
Going home and facing his loved ones as the man he's become. Afraid they'll reject him like so many others have.
He kept himself separate from them for so long. From everyone but Bronco. I have to believe that if his brother accepts him, the rest of his family will too.
I reach across the console and slide my hand over his.
His fingers are rigid at first. They flex, then they slowly lace with mine.
“I’m not afraid,” I tell him softly.
His throat works. “You should be.”
“Not of this. Not of your family. Or seeing who you were before the ice."
He searches my face. Then he exhales and lifts my hand to place a kiss there.
Dallas puts the truck in gear and drives us home.
The farmhouse is on the outskirts of town at the foot of the mountains.
It’s every bit as homey as something from a TV movie, with white paint, a wide porch, and welcoming lights inside.
There’s a barn and paddock to one side, and though the sun is starting to set, I see a few cows lingering near the fence.
A big man steps out onto the porch as Dallas parks the truck and shuts it off. His hair and eyes are as dark as Dallas’s. This must be his older brother, Bronco.
Two other men follow. One slightly leaner version of the brothers, and the other dark like a thundercloud. I shiver, looking at the second man. He has the same brutal coldness as Dallas sometimes does, and I wonder who he is.
Dallas comes around to open my truck door and helps me down. He squeezes my hand, then draws me forward for introductions.
As I thought, the big man is Bronco. He nods and eyes me with interest. The leaner one is their middle brother, Ford. And the last one, who radiates a chill I'm quite familiar with, is their friend, Anson Blackwood.
Dallas draws up short when he sees the man. "Blackwood? I didn't know you were here."
A ghost of a smile hovers around the man's lips. "Something peaceful about these mountains. Settles a soul." He holds Dallas's gaze, as if silently communicating something.
Dallas holds me closer. "This is Gemma Townsend."
Ford's eyebrows shoot up. "The congressman's daughter?"
Anson whistles in surprise.
Bronco shakes his head and mutters, "You never could do easy, bro." Then to me adds, "Welcome, Gemma. Come inside so I can introduce you to my woman."
"Go ahead," Dallas murmurs.
"Are you sure?"
He nods. "Anson wants to talk to me."
"Oh. Okay." There’s something between the two men that’s not exactly friendship. Respect, maybe. I wonder how they know each other.
Dallas drops a kiss to my temple and nudges me toward his brothers.
I follow them up the porch steps into the house. At the threshold, I look back.
Anson places his hand on Dallas's shoulder, and it looks like some sort of silent understanding passes between them.
"No one else knows this," Bronco murmurs for my ears only. "Anson trained Dallas while they were in the military. He's the best sharpshooter on the planet, and like my bro, he worked the private sector for a time. If anyone knows what to say, it's him."
"Say about what?"
“Blackwood knows what it costs to come back from the dark… and how to live after. How to let himself be loved. Things I think Dallas is finally ready to hear."
My heart swells. Coming home was the right thing for Dallas to do. I just hope he can let himself enjoy it.
Bronco leads me into the open kitchen and introduces me to his fiancé, Camille. She’s sweet and a little shy, and wearing a pair of bright turquoise cowboy boots.
She's there with Ford's adorable fiance, Ember, and Anson's wife, Ellie who is pulling a tin of cupcakes from the oven. She's bright, bubbly, and the total opposite of Anson from what I can tell.
Their son, Grayson, is crawling on the rug in the living room, pretending he's a puppy.
The love and laughter in this room are refreshing in a way that makes my heart ache. I've never had this. If Dallas ever has, it’s been a very long time.
Could there ever be a future where we settle here? With friends and family who love and accept us? I think even my mom might thrive here, now that Arthur's gone.
Part of me is too afraid to hope. But my heart is already putting in the wish.
For Dallas. For family. With love and acceptance.
I step fully into the warmth of the kitchen, into laughter and flour-dusted counters and women who look at me like I already belong. It hits me all at once—this is what safety feels like.
Not just protection from bullets, but from loneliness.
Outside, the man I love is preparing to walk back into the fire for me. And one look at Bronco tells me, this time, he won’t walk in alone.
Dallas and Anson walk in a few minutes later.
A weight has lifted from Dallas’s shoulders. He’s not completely at ease, but better.
Bronco introduces him to the women, then lays a hand on his shoulder. “It’s good to have you home, bro.”
Ford grips his forearm and adds, “It’s where you belong.”
Dallas swallows. “Mom and Dad?”
“They have a house down in Arizona now,” Ford says. Something shifts in his eyes. “Maybe that will change if you decide to stay.”
Dallas meets my eyes. “Maybe. There’s something I have to do first.”
Camille hands me a cup of hot tea. “Bronco says you’re going to stay here for a few days?”
“Yes. If that’s okay?” I was worried that staying with Dallas’s family would bring danger to their door, but he was unconcerned.
I didn’t understand why. These are contract killers, not mall cops, and they have five hundred thousand reasons to find me.
At the time, Dallas simply said, “I wouldn’t trust your life to anyone else.”
Looking at these men, and finding out that there are half a dozen more who were former special forces living in the area, I feel a little better. But I’d never forgive myself if anything happened to these people.
Dallas has a plan. I have to trust that it works.
“I’ve got his back, Gemma,” Bronco says a little while later. “He isn’t a lone wolf. Not anymore. Anson and I are going with him. We’ll bring him back to you. If that’s what you want.”
I nod. “It is.”
His smile is gentle. “Good.”
“Bronco? I know not everyone will understand his choices. Do you… do you think your parents will?”
He doesn’t hesitate in his answer. “Yes. They’ve missed him more than he realizes. Nothing he could possibly have done would take away their love.”
My heart warms. “I’m glad.”
“Something tells me he’s more concerned about your approval than theirs.”
“He doesn’t need to be. I know him. Maybe not every part, but enough. Dallas King is a good man. He just needs a little redemption.”
“Only in his eyes. Not ours.” Bronco nods and walks back to Camille’s side, wrapping an arm around her.
“You okay?” Dallas asks low in my ear as he comes up behind me.
“I like it here.”
He stiffens, then immediately relaxes. “I do too.” His hands settle on my hips and he presses his forehead to my hair. “We’re leaving soon.”
My heart flips, then starts to pound. I’m not ready for him to go.
I turn in his arms and hug him tight. I want to beg him to come back to me, but the words won’t form.
Dallas holds me close. “I’m coming back for you, Gemma. And when I do…”
His voice drops rough against my ear.
“You’re mine.”