Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
FORD
Ishould have had my eyes on the road and my mind on driving home after yet another closing shift at Sawyers Bend Brewing. Instead, all I could think about was Paige and what had happened between us the previous night.
I wasn’t coming home to her after a long day of work, because that was way too domestic for whatever was going on between us. But I couldn’t deny that was what it felt like.
I liked tending bar in the taproom at Sawyers Bend Brewing, and I didn’t mind the closing shift.
Avery didn’t keep the taproom open late, and while she did a steady business, it was never jammed.
But these last few days waiting for Haywood’s assassin to strike were wearing on me.
I wasn’t used to the stress of being the bait in a sting operation.
I’d been an executive. I wasn’t in law enforcement.
The closest I’d come was my brief stint as a felon.
I just wanted to catch the guy and maybe think about what came next, after we found my father’s killer. After this was over.
A doubting whisper in my heart asked if it would ever be over, or if I was due for a lifetime of purgatory.
I hadn’t felt hope in a long time—not since Finn had barely escaped the kidnapping with his life, and I’d faced the man I’d become.
Since then, I’d been trying to make amends, but I was aware it was too little, too late.
And then last night, Paige listening as I laid it out.
I had expected her face to twist in disgust, that she’d throw me out of her room, and that would be the end—and it would have been right if she did.
I’d convinced myself it was what I deserved, and that she deserved so much better than the washed-up, morally bankrupt, underemployed black sheep of the Sawyer family.
Instead, she’d listened without judgment, had understood when I spoke about my father. She’d given me empathy but not pity, been kind, but hadn’t let me wallow. It was exactly what I’d needed.
I wanted to know her story, though it hadn’t felt like the right time to ask. I hated the idea of her growing up the way I had, always trying and failing to feel a parent’s love. I wanted to know everything about her.
I just wanted her.
I’d drifted off in her bed, arm around her waist, her dark, shiny curls tucked under my chin.
Hours later, I’d woken and forced myself to cross the cold hallway to my lonely room.
I’d promised her we’d keep it a secret, and we would.
I didn’t want my baggage tainting Paige.
She was close to my family. She loved them.
They loved her. If that changed because there was something going on between us—
I shook my head at the thought. I wouldn’t be the reason Paige had less. I should turn away. I should tell her… But I wasn’t going to. Despite all my efforts at reform, I was selfish enough to refuse to give her up completely.
She was a grown woman. She made her choice, fully informed.
But she doesn’t understand, I thought—
And then all my thoughts cut off at the crack of a bullet and the jerk of the wheel in my hands as the car started to veer out of control.
I gripped the wheel, hitting the brakes, trying to get the car to the shoulder of the narrow mountain road before I lost control and it went off the side. There wasn’t much room to pull over, but it was better than a nosedive over the edge.
There was another crack of sound and an explosion of glass followed by a thud. I ducked, the car jerking to a stop, half on, half off the road. Grimacing, I wedged myself as far out of sight as I could, broken safety glass grinding into my skin.
I couldn’t see where the shot had come from, or if they were close enough to run at me.
My heart thumping wildly, I fumbled my gun out of the glove box.
The weight in my hand wasn’t as reassuring as I’d hoped.
I could shoot in defense of my life—I wasn’t worried about that—but jammed down in the seat, hiding under the dashboard, I couldn’t even see who was approaching the car.
West or Hawk were supposed to have me covered.
I trusted them to do their jobs, but at that moment, the gun wavering in my hand, I realized how much I was trusting men who didn’t like me all that much.
I forced myself to breathe. It was too late.
All I could do now was stay down and try not to get killed.
I guessed that the first shot had taken out a tire, and the second had exploded the rear windshield. It seemed likely that if my head popped up, a third shot would bury itself in my skull. No thanks. I stayed down, my eyes flicking from window to window, blind in the darkness.
I caught the sound of footsteps on asphalt.
Another shot, although I didn’t hear it hit the car, so it must have gone wild.
I flinched. I couldn’t help it. I hated feeling like a sitting duck, but this was the plan.
If he struck, I was supposed to get out of sight as fast as possible and let the professionals deal with him.
My ego hated hiding while someone else risked themselves to save my life.
I told my ego to shut it. I was qualified to do a lot of things.
Taking down an assassin—even a bad one—wasn’t one of them.
Tires squealed outside—another vehicle—and shouts echoed. West, I thought.
A hard double knock sounded on the passenger door. Hawk. The door jerked open, and I stared up at him.
“You good?” Hawk scanned me and nodded to himself before I could answer.
I sat up, flicking the safety on the gun and setting it on the seat. “I’m fine. Did you get him?” I wondered how long it was going to be before my heart rate settled back to normal. I felt like I’d just finished running up a hill.
“We got him. West is slapping the cuffs on right now. You okay?”
“Yeah,” I said. “Not sure about the car though.”
Hawk shrugged. I was driving an old beater Griffen had lent me—the car that got passed around whenever anyone needed a vehicle.
I’d sold my sports car—rather, I’d had Haywood sell my sports car for me—while I was in prison, using the proceeds to pay a chunk of his fees.
It made sense at the time. I’d been facing at least a decade behind bars; might as well have gotten the value out of the car. Maybe it was time to replace it.
“Will it start?” Hawk asked, bringing me back to the moment.
“I don’t know. Let’s see.” I turned the key and the car rumbled to life.
“Inch her forward a little bit,” Hawk said. “Get it all the way off the road. I’ll call the garage to pick it up in the morning.”
I nodded, and he stepped back, shutting the passenger door. It only took a minute to ease the car carefully off onto the shoulder. I got out, locked it, and found Hawk standing at the side of the road, hands on his hips, watching West shove my would-be assassin in the back of his cruiser.
I recognized him as the same guy who had shot at us in the parking lot, but I didn’t know him otherwise.
“Can I get a ride back to Heartstone?” I asked.
Hawk gave an abrupt nod. “You handled the vehicle well,” he said. “For a second, I was worried you’d go off the mountain.”
It had been close. Closer than I’d liked. “Me too. I wonder if that was his plan.”
Hawk shrugged. “Hard to say. So far, he hasn’t overwhelmed me with intelligence or skill.” His dark eyes cut to me. “The next one Haywood sends will be better.”
“I know,” I said.
“We’ll get that one, too,” he stated with absolute assurance.
I nodded, my throat tight. I wanted to say I could handle it, but I wasn’t going to endanger the people around me by being an arrogant ass. This was not my area of expertise. I’d only survived this guy because, as Hawk said, he was a dumbass.
If Cole Haywood managed to find someone who knew what they were doing, I’d be a sitting duck at best.
We rode back to Heartstone in silence.
Griffen met us at the door, his eyes scanning me from head to toe. A grim smile spread across his face as he nodded in satisfaction. “You’re okay.”
“Yeah,” I said.
He looked to Hawk. “And West?”
Hawk’s jaw tightened slightly. “Has him.”
Griffen raised an eyebrow. “Yeah?”
“He won’t be a problem again.”
“Good.” Griffen looked back to me. “You’re off nights at the brewery, but you need to be careful. I don’t know how long it’ll take Haywood to find another, but—”
“He will,” I nodded. “I know.” I found myself saying words that turned my gut into a block of ice. “I need to go to the prison. I need to talk to him.”
Griffen nodded slowly. “I’ll go with you.”
I wasn’t expecting that. “Yeah. That would—” I didn’t have the words.
I felt sick at the idea of walking through those doors again, even as a free man.
I didn’t want to do it alone. But asking Griffen seemed like too much.
He didn’t owe me anything. The child in me, the part that had never stopped hero-worshipping his older brother, wanted nothing more than to have Griffen at my side if I had to go back to that place.
“Thanks,” was all I could choke out.
Griffen nodded once. “Tomorrow?”
“Yeah. Tomorrow.”
“I’ll see what I can arrange.”
I doubted Griffen would have any trouble getting us in.
He hadn’t when I’d been locked up—the prison warden happy to acquiesce to the top-dog Sawyer.
Once upon a time, that had almost been me.
I was familiar with the power at Griffen’s fingertips and knew I no longer wanted it.
For so many years, I’d been eaten up by jealousy, by envy.
Now, I knew I wanted more than tending bar.
I didn’t know what that looked like, but I did know I didn’t want what Griffen had.
Not anymore. I just wanted my brother back.
“I’m going to head up,” I said, suddenly exhausted.
“I’ll let you know tomorrow when we can head out,” Griffen said.
I nodded and shifted to face both Griffen and Hawk. “Thanks.”
“It’s what we’re here for,” Hawk replied casually.
I shook my head, my gaze moving from Griffen to Hawk.
There was no question that Hawk’s loyalty belonged to my brother and to my sister Quinn.
Hawk had helped me for their sakes and not my own.
It didn’t matter. I still appreciated it.
“I know it’s your job, but it’s more than that.
I know I’m the last person you or West want to help, but you did it anyway. So, thank you.”
Griffen’s hand closed over my shoulder in a tight squeeze. “I’m glad you’re okay.” He squeezed again and let go, shoving me gently at the stairs. “Go get some sleep, and we’ll figure out tomorrow when we get there.”
I nodded, trudging up the stairs and down the hall of the guest wing.
The sconces were turned low, the bedroom doors shut.
There was no light under Paige’s door, and the stab of disappointment was sharper than I’d expected.
I wanted to tell her the guy who’d almost hurt her was behind bars.
She was safe, for now, and I’d make sure she stayed that way.
I wanted to touch her, strip her to the skin, and watch the light that hit her eyes when I made her come. The way she’d moaned my name—I wanted to watch that over and over, the sounds of her pleasure a balm to my bruised soul. I wanted to lose myself in Paige.
But she was asleep, and I wouldn’t be the asshole who woke her up. Instead, I closed my door behind me.
I crossed mental fingers and let out a sigh when steaming water came from the showerhead.
I washed off the brewery, scrubbed a towel over my hair, slung it around my waist, and stepped into my room—to find the door closed, the lock turned, and Paige tucked beneath my sheets.
Her robe and what looked like a nightgown were draped over the end of the bed, her bare shoulders gleaming in the moonlight.
“I thought you were asleep,” I said.
A slow smile spread across her face as her eyes traced my mostly naked body. “I was. And now I’m not. Are you tired?”
“Not that tired,” I said. “We got him.”
“Really?” The smile widened. “That’s good news. Like, arrested and in jail and everything?”
“Exactly like that,” I said, closing the distance to the edge of the bed. “I think that calls for a celebration, don’t you? We’re in the clear. At least, for the next day or two.”
“I do,” she agreed.
Dropping the towel, I slid between the sheets, desperately grateful that I’d optimistically run an errand that morning and had a fresh box of condoms tucked in my bedside drawer. If I was lucky enough to be naked with Paige McKenna, I wanted to be prepared.
She curled into me, warm and soft, the weight of her breasts pillowed on my chest.
“I’ve been thinking about this all day,” I said, my lips closing over hers.
She answered by sliding a leg over my hip, her fingers sinking into my hair, kissing me back until my head spun, my senses full of Paige—and nothing else.