Twenty-One
Than
I gripped the back of the seat that Ransom was sitting in while going over the security footage. This was the third time we’d sat here and watched it.
The first time, I’d thought that I was right. There was no one near my truck all day until Montana walked to get her hair tie. However, Ransom caught something, and we watched it a second time. He paused it to zoom in so that we could see the blue heart-shaped letter on the seat. He’d then rewound it to show me the frame before, and there was no blue letter.
This time, we watched it closer with him watching the right of the screen and me watching the left for anything that stood out. Ransom paused it several times and went back to rewatch something. I didn’t know what it was he was seeing because I saw fucking nothing. But then Montana sitting in the chair over in the corner of the room, still pale and being so fucking quiet, was making it hard for me to concentrate.
“There,” he said and pointed at the screen.
“What?” All I saw was the fucking whiskey barrels waiting to go inside.
“How many are there?” he asked.
Why were we doing math?
“Thirty,” I said, annoyed. I knew how many because the extra order had come in yesterday and thirty of them had been delivered.
“Right, and”—he pressed play, then pause immediately—“now how many are there?”
The end closest to the entrance of the distillery had less barrels than the second before.
I counted. “Twenty-six.”
“Yet we don’t see anyone take them,” he pointed out.
The tips of my fingers bit into the leather on the chair. “Motherfucker,” I hissed.
Ransom glanced up at me. “This isn’t some kid with an obsession. This was done by a professional. One who knew how to break into our security and pause the cameras for a certain amount of time.” He turned back to the screen.
Who the fuck was stalking her?!
We had the best security that money could buy. It was on all our homes and businesses. Wilder Jones—the computer genius in the family who lived in Ocala and worked directly with the boss—had made sure that what we all used was something others couldn’t hack into.
“I’m leaving,” she said, breaking her silence.
My head swung in her direction as she stood up.
“I can’t stay here or at Linc’s. It’s not safe for anyone, and I didn’t come here to bring danger. Linc has a wife and a little girl.”
I let go of the chair and stalked over to stop her before she reached the door.
“You’re not going anywhere,” I told her with more aggression than necessary. I took a breath, then tried again. “Listen, we aren’t scared of this guy. We can find him now that we know what we are working with. He might be a pro, but we have the means to a better one.” I glanced back at Ransom. “Call Linc and tell him. We need Wilder to go over this footage.”
Ransom’s gaze went from Montana to me. I didn’t like the expression on his face. I knew that look.
“I need to talk to you—alone,” he told me.
Fine. He wanted to do the older-brother-talk shit. I didn’t need his advice or counsel. I’d call Linc myself. I opened my mouth to tell him that whatever he wanted to tell me, he could say in front of Montana, but decided she might not need to hear it. She was already shaken up enough. If Ransom was going to say anything to upset her more, I didn’t want her in here.
“I need to go make sure all my school assignments for today are put in the right place and submitted,” she told me. “I’ll just stay there until you’re ready to go.”
Reluctantly, I nodded.
“I won’t be long,” I assured her.
She gave me a small smile that didn’t meet her eyes, then left the room. I closed the door behind her.
No longer having to control my expression, I turned and glared at my brother. “If you’re about to tell me—”
“Our job is to keep Baskin safe from her. Not to keep her safe,” Ransom interrupted. “It’s very likely that the boss is gonna see this as a way to get her off our hands. She means nothing to Blaise other than being a problem and a threat to the control the family holds in Mississippi. Granted, she’s hot, and I can see the way you’re looking at her. But you gotta snap out of that. She is Baskin’s bastard, and that won’t change. You can’t have her or fuck her or whatever the hell it is you’re wanting. But calling Linc isn’t going to help her. He’ll probably find the stalker, just to hand her over and get her off our hands.”
My nostrils flared as I inhaled, and the pounding in my temples became a roar. “She’s a nineteen-year-old girl who has lost her mother and was unfortunate enough to have that son of a bitch for a father. She needs our help.” I struggled to keep my voice down.
“Yeah, well, as far as the family is concerned, Baskin is our only priority. She threatened to out him and became our problem. This stalker? He’s not playing around. For him to go to the lengths he did to stick a fucking note in your truck…” Ransom shook his head. “But whatever game he is playing, it benefits the family if he wins.”
The rage I’d been fighting to keep under control snapped, and the chair beside me was airborne before I realized what I was doing. It crashed into the wall, knocking over a floor lamp while its leg went through the Sheetrock.
“Jesus Christ,” Ransom snarled, then grabbed my shoulders, turning me to him, and got in my face. “Calm the fuck down! She isn’t yours. Not your concern. If you were to act like this in front of Blaise Hughes, he’d likely kill you with one shot to the head. Snap out of whatever hold she has on you!” He shoved me back and shook his head as he stared at me like I’d gone crazy. “Have you fucked her? Is that it? She’s got a magical cunt and has you acting like a lunatic?”
My eyes narrowed as my hands balled into fists at my sides. “No. I’ve not touched her. But she’s alone, defenseless, and scared. Why can’t you see that?”
“I see it. But we aren’t trained to be goddamn superheroes, out to save those in need. We’re powerful, wealthy criminals, Than. That’s what we were born into, who we were raised to become. And she”—he pointed toward the door—“is a threat to one of our lines of control in Mississippi. That is what the boss cares about. That is all Linc cares about. Not her.”
I would talk to Linc. Explain this. He had a soft side because of his wife and daughter. I could use that. Get him to help me talk to Blaise. Arguing with Ransom was getting me nowhere. He might be right, but I could change their minds.
“I’m not trying to be a superhero,” I told him.
“Yeah, the fuck you are. She’s gotten to you. Hell, you couldn’t stay in your office today. You were up front with her more than you were anywhere else. A woman doesn’t get to be number one for you. The family comes first. They make our decisions for us.”
“Tell that to Linc,” I shot back at him. Not that I was madly in love with Montana the way he was his wife, but that wasn’t my point. “And fuck Blaise Hughes. He’s killed more men over his wife and her safety than I probably will in my lifetime.”
Ransom rolled his eyes. “Yeah, well, you aren’t Linc or Blaise. Blaise is the boss. He calls the shots. Linc is a Shephard, and you know that the Hughes men run the family, but the Shephards are the second in the chain of command. Rules don’t apply to them. Hell, not too long ago, Sebastian Shephard kidnapped a girl and ran off with her, and Blaise basically gave him a slap on the hand. You do that, and you probably won’t live when he finds you.”
I was done with this conversation. Montana was waiting on me. Ransom was wrong. Linc would see it my way. And if he didn’t, I’d talk to Branwen. She sure as hell would see it my way, and he would listen to her.
Stalking to the door, I jerked it open.
“You’re going to talk to Linc, aren’t you?” he asked.
“Yep,” I replied, then left the room before he could say more shit I didn’t want to hear.
Montana would have heard the chair I threw across the room, and I had to think of a way to explain the noise. She needed some security. Fuck knew the last time she’d had it.
“Sorry that took so…” My words trailed off as I stared into an empty entrance.
“Montana!” I called out, my steps quickening.
Scanning the area behind the counter, I looked for her things, and nothing was there. Her backpack, laptop—all of it was gone. Where the fuck was she? Shoving the front door open, I stepped outside onto the porch just in time to see her climbing into the backseat of a car I didn’t recognize.
“MONTANA!” I shouted as I took off down the stairs toward the car, but it was already driving away.
Grabbing my phone, I snapped a picture of the back of the car, being sure to get its license plate, then zoomed in on it. The Uber sticker in the back-right corner answered my question as to who the fuck had picked her up. She’d ordered an Uber.
Fuck! I quickly pulled up the app that tracked her phone so I could see where she was and follow her.
“She ran?” Ransom asked behind me.
I turned to glare at him. “Yeah, she did. She probably heard the shit you were saying.”
He shrugged. “Probably for the best. Just let her go.”
I’d never hit my brother. He was older, but he wasn’t bigger than me, not anymore, and I was seconds away from planting my fist in his face. I had to get away from him before we had our first brawl. I didn’t have time for it anyway. Montana was running off to God knew where in a fucking Uber.
I headed to my truck and looked back down at the app. She hadn’t turned to go near the interstate. She’d turned in the direction of Linc’s. Hopefully, she was going to get her things first. I’d have time to stop her. Talk her out of it. And reassure her that I wasn’t going to let anyone hand her over to the fucker who had been stalking her.