11. Sawyer
Chapter 11
Sawyer
A six-story building was in the middle of a parking lot with potholes and cracked asphalt. Even though it was past ten o’clock, every single light was on inside. Shadows flickered over the windows, like there were people still working, a bustling company with no signs of slowing down. A few old cars were in the lot, most of which seemed fine until you got closer. None of them were in working condition. But it wasn’t obvious until you looked.
We couldn’t find Roth, but that didn’t mean we couldn’t take care of his assets.
I had one of my clients pretend to be in the market for ‘erasing’ his rival company, claiming that he was in the market for a new contractor. Make it look like an accident, he had told Roth. A gas leak, a spontaneous natural disaster, even if each individual had been shot before being burned to a crisp. That same client had a building they were going to demolish soon anyway and lent us the space. He owed us, and now we were even.
With the decoy sent, we could lure his assets—the Hatchcom Focus soldiers—out of hiding.
We directed the men around the perimeter, assembling our camouflaged barricades of storage trailers and cement blockades. The parking lot had been stacked with landmines, and when the time came, the building was set with enough explosives to wipe Roth’s entire fleet out, if necessary.
“When?” Wilder asked. His finger twitched against the trigger of his sniper rifle.
“Soon,” I said.
I played calm, but in truth, all of us were tense. The only way this would work was if Hatchcom Focus didn’t have the same plan as us. They had already completed one attack on our business, killing one of our most loyal men. And I wouldn’t let that happen again.
“This shit didn’t have to happen,” Wilder muttered.
I knew that. My mind hadn’t been focused enough lately. Fiona was more ambitious than I expected. More challenging overall.
And I admit, I liked that.
Erica flashed into my mind. She was not a challenge like Fiona, but she was peculiar. But aren’t they a communications company? she had asked. What does that have to do with cattle?
Was she connected to Hatchcom Focus?
No. Anyone could find that information; communication was their cover, and cattle ranching was ours. Besides, Roth didn’t seem like the kind of man to value a woman’s opinion. Still, I made a note to look her up once I got a free moment.
“You want to say that again?” I said to Wilder.
He grunted. “After.”
A semi-truck pulled into the parking lot. We fell silent. The first soldier stepped out, unlocking the back of the truck. More emerged, dressed like delivery workers. Once all of them appeared to be out of the truck—twenty of them total—our hunters and ranchers tensed, the energy spiking around us. It was almost time.
The soldiers headed for the building. One of them stopped.
“Something’s not right,” he said.
“Let’s get this over with,” another said.
“Listen—”
“Let’s get this done and go home.”
Wilder turned to me: “Now?”
“Stop being so paranoid,” one of the soldiers said.
Another soldier ushered two of them forward. The pair went inside the building. That was perfect; I didn’t want all of them dead yet.
I rolled the dice. An even total, and we would give them more time. But odd? We would start the attack now.
Odd.
“Now,” I said.
Wilder clicked a button on his phone. An explosion vibrated through the ground. Flames rose up, flickering over half of the building.
“What the hell?” one of the soldiers shouted.
“Where—”
Our men set out a round of warning bullets, wounding some, but not killing anyone yet. Not until I gave the order.
“Shit! Shit!”
Their weapons fired in every direction, then they came forward and I threw a grenade. They ducked. Another one died from the blast. Once the smoke cleared, I stood up.
“You have a choice,” I shouted, aiming my gun at them. “ You can die for Roth, or you can join the Feldman Farm. All you have to do is drop your weapon.”
One of them sneered at me, then charged forward, shouting at the top of his lungs. He shot at us, but then he stepped on a landmine; an explosion ricocheted through the parking lot and the man’s leg blew off, sending his body crashing to the asphalt.
One man dropped his weapon. The next man aimed his gun toward the HCF defector, and I put a bullet in between the shooter’s eyes. The next one aimed at us, and I ducked down, but Wilder shot him. As the building fire cackled, more of them put down their weapons, and the rest of them died for a man that didn’t think twice about them. I glanced back at our men; none of our ranchers had been hurt, and only one hunter had been wounded.
As long as the men back at the farm were fine, we would be all right, and in a much better position than Hatchcom Focus now.
I signaled to Wilder and the rest of our group, and we set out, helping the survivors. The easy choice would be to execute the men who had surrendered; after all, if they were willing to turn their backs on Hatchcom Focus—why wouldn’t they do the same to us? But I wasn’t about to lose that much potential. There were other ways to prove that you were loyal. My father had taught me that.
We took their weapons, then escorted them to the farm. Our private doctor took care of their wounds, and we let them board in the main house while our men watched them. We made plans to negotiate contracts and decide the best options for them to prove their loyalty in the morning. I had a good idea of how to do that.
Once everything was settled, I headed to the Dairy Barn to make sure everything was in its place. I trusted my brother to handle the groundwork; it was his calling. But I still needed to see it with my own eyes.
The empty troughs. The stanchion. The pens. Loose scraps of hay. Dust everywhere. Bloodstains etched into the concrete.
Everything was in its place.
And yet, my mind was buzzing with too many possibilities at once. Thinking of Fiona. Thinking of how wrong today could have gone if I had let her distract me any more than I already had.
The barn door slid open behind me. Wilder glared at me.
What the hell was his problem now?
My phone vibrated: a text message from Fiona.
It wasn’t important. She wasn’t important.
But my fingers swiped through.
That little freckle on her cheek, so similar to the one on her breast. Her pouty lips. A sheer babydoll, her naked pussy spread underneath. My dick twitched; I bet she was already wet for me.
“You’re answering a text,” Wilder muttered.
I didn’t look up. It was none of his business.
“None of this had to happen,” he continued.
I stowed my phone. “Tell that to Norman Roth.”
Wilder shoved my chest, and I immediately threw a punch at his face. His fist connected with my stomach.
“This has nothing to do with Roth,” he growled. “Who just texted you?”
“None of your business.”
“A woman?”
I scoffed, but Wilder already knew. We might not have been close, but we were brothers, and he understood what my lack of answer meant .
“You’re joking,” he muttered. “You, of all people?” He shook his head. “Get a hold of yourself. Our men didn’t have to die because you can’t keep your dick in your pants.”
One of our men had died. One had been injured. That was hardly a concern.
But that made me sound like Roth. They were our men, not our assets.
And yet I couldn’t stop myself from arguing. Couldn’t admit what she had done to me.
“I didn’t do shit,” I yelled back.
“And that’s why this could have been avoided in the first place,” he said. He grabbed my shirt, shoving me to the ground, and I punched him, my fist bashing his face. His next punch landed on my jaw. Pain churned inside of me. “Fix your head. This isn’t about some slut you can fuck in your free time. This is about the business we’ve been fighting for, to make it our own. Your own, Sawyer. You’re the one who wanted this business. Don’t let it implode from the inside because of some woman.”
I clenched my fists at those words. The only person who could call her some slut was me.
He was lucky he had corrected himself.
“She means nothing,” I said.
“Then fix it,” Wilder demanded. He pushed himself off of me. “You wanted to be the boss. Be a boss. It comes with sacrifices?—”
This time, I railed forward, knocking him to the ground, the wind expelling from his chest. He coughed, and I hurled a punch at his nose. Blood dripped from his nostril.
“Say it again,” I said in a low voice. Veins throbbed in my forehead, red clouding my vision. In the Feldman Offering, the men of our family were expected to kill their own wives once they were finished producing offspring, for the sake of the business. Women were a distraction, and the best way to prove that the business came first was to get rid of them.
But our father was dead. I was the leader now. That ritual was over.
“Tell me again what I have to sacrifice,” I growled.
“Calm down,” Wilder shouted. He threw a punch at me, and I kicked him in the chest. His breath caught in his throat. In the end, Wilder hadn’t killed his wife like he was supposed to. And I had already killed someone to prove to my father that I should be the next leader. If those were the games my father wanted to play, then so be it.
“We got rid of our father so we didn’t have to follow those rules anymore,” Wilder said. I had gotten rid of our father. I was the one who put that final bullet in his body. “But now we have our own rules. New rules that you have to follow to show that you can handle the business. Fix this, Sawyer. Do whatever it means to be a leader. You wanted this. ”
He was right.
I had sworn to myself that I would lead the Feldman Farm into a new era, and while I had done that, I had been side-tracked. Breaking Fiona was supposed to be a way to strengthen my manipulation over others, but instead, I had let her get in my way.
I relaxed my hold on my brother, then stood, offering him a hand to hoist him up. We walked back in silence. As Wilder parted for his new house, I found my driver, ordering him to take us back to the city. At the penthouse, I stayed in our private garage, sitting in the car. Lost in thought.
“Boss?” my driver asked.
Without even questioning myself, I addressed the driver: “Go to her apartment. ”
I pictured her running across the parking lot of that old building, screaming as a landmine tore her legs from her body. Bullets nailing her in the head and chest until she was flung against the asphalt, her skull cracking open. Then I fixated on her inside of that burning building, punching the windows, afraid to burn alive. And that haunted me. I couldn’t unsee it. The way she screamed. The way her skin melted from her bones.
I would never let anything like that happen to her.
I did have feelings for her, didn’t I?
We went through the open gate, then parked. I called her. It rang once, then she picked up.
“Hello?” she asked.
“Come down,” I said, my voice gravelly.
A small gasp came from the other end. “Sawyer?”
I hung up. Her shadow hovered in the window, then she peaked through the blinds, down at the cars, finding my SUV. She stumbled out of view, then, a few seconds later, the lights in her apartment went out, and she scrambled toward the parking lot. A sweater pulled over her dainty shoulders. Shorts barely covering her ass. I smiled to myself, remembering the missing file from my office. She had stolen it, doing the opposite of what I expected. Even if she didn’t know I was a killer, to steal from a man like me took stupidity and courage. She continued to mystify me.
And that needed to end.
I opened the car door for her. She slid inside, and I closed the privacy partition between us and the driver.
“Where’s the babydoll?” I asked.
Even in the dark night, a blush rippled across her skin. “I can’t wear that outside.”
But the idea made her hot. Warmth flowed through my body with her next to me. Knowing that she was safe. Knowing that she was mine.
But Wilder was right. I didn’t have to kill her, but I had to make sure that she didn’t affect me like this.
But what did that mean, if not killing her?
I had to show her that this was only a game. Once I won, I would discard her like the ashes of a burned corpse. I had to convince her she meant nothing to me.
And most of all, I had to convince myself.
“I made plans with my sister,” she said, interrupting my thoughts. “Family night. Like you said.”
I tilted my head. “You’re not studying?”
“Well, I’m bringing my textbooks.” She raised her brow. “But you’re right. I should make time to see her.” She shrugged. “And you, I guess.”
“When?”
Everything inside of me swelled with frustration. Why had I asked? I had to make a change. Playing like this with Fiona was as irresistible as it was maddening, and I had to set a boundary somewhere. I had to show her that this was a game where she would lose, even if I had to make her cry. Even if I had to make her wish she were dead.
“Tomorrow night,” she said.
She spread her knees apart, and her shorts fell back, closer to her cunt, the gap of fabric showing off that pink pussy. My tongue flicked over my lips. She knew what she was doing.
“Dirty little plaything,” I murmured in her ear. She sucked in a breath, and I squeezed her thigh. I had to get out of there. Had to ground myself. Now. “I’ll see you tomorrow night, then,” I said. “Goodnight, Fiona.”
She pressed her lips to my ear. “Goodnight, Sawyer. ”
I tensed, and she grinned, knowing the power she had over me.
And I couldn’t have that. Couldn’t let my brother know it was her. And perhaps that was part of why I had made sure that my brother married Fiona’s sister. As much as her sister annoyed me, I had confidence that her sister would never let anything happen to Fiona. Family was like that for most people. And in some ways, it was like that for Wilder and me. We protected each other. And yet, all it would take was one stupid move, and our family bonds wouldn’t matter. That was why the Feldman Offering had existed in the first place. I needed the lesson more than anyone else. Still, I refused to kill Fiona.
But I had to get my priorities straight. I had to put Fiona in her place.