Chapter Nineteen
Carrie
“Hey, Jake,” I greeted, giving him a small smile as he stared at me, his eyes hard.
Grayson, who was standing behind me—against me—cleared his throat. That seemed to snap Jake out of whatever stupor he was in, causing him to blink before he returned my smile with a pained one. “Hey, Carrie,” he rumbled.
He looked down at my sock-covered feet and then back to my face. “Do you want to me look at your feet later?” he asked softly as more people filed into Mag’s living room.
“No, that’s okay,” I assured him. “They’re okay.”
“No pain?” he inquired, raising a brow.
I shook my head, and he made a noise, apparently just as shocked as I was. I was lucky, so damn lucky, and I would never understand it. Jake was about to move away from us then, and I reached out, touching his forearm. “You might need to run another blood test on me, though,” I whispered.
His brown eyes lingered on my me for five long seconds before they flicked up to Grayson’s behind me. Grayson put his hand on my hip as he explained in a low voice to Jake about Nightwalker and how Brandon had gotten some from Leo’s boat. With a sharp nod, Jake said, “We’ll do it back at the office.”
“Good idea,” Grayson returned firmly.
Before I could ask the question on the tip of my tongue, Jake moved, and Dominic was there, his dark blue eyes kind. “Carrie,” he murmured.
I gave him the same smile I’d given Jake. “Hi, Dominic,” I whispered.
“You okay?” he asked, putting his hand on my shoulder, his touch almost loving. Knives gathered in my throat.
These guys were good men, and Grayson was lucky to have them. Swallowing the pain in my throat, I nodded, inhaling a shaky breath. “I’m okay,” I promised.
Dominic shot me a wink. “Atta girl,” he praised and moved to stand next to Jake in the kitchen, leaning back against the counter.
A throat cleared, and I pulled my eyes away from the pair to find a stranger standing in front of me. He was large, almost bulkier than Grayson, packed with muscle. His hair was a light brown and had a slight wave to it. His eyes were also gray, but nothing like the Langston brothers’. He was also wearing a brace on his left wrist, and instantly, it clicked.
This was Ash.
The man Grayson had gone to hell to save. He was the reason Grayson didn’t return to Astoria.
“Hi, Carrie. I’m— oof .”
His greeting was cut off when I lunged for him, wrapping my arms tightly around his waist, hugging him tightly. “Hi, Ash,” I whispered. I gave him one more squeeze and pulled back, stepping back into Grayson again, who calmly returned his hand to my hip. Ash was staring at me, something I couldn’t read swirling in his eyes as his throat worked. “I’m so happy you’re safe,” I told him, meaning it. “I’m glad you’re okay.”
A breathless, rough chuckle of disbelief left him then, his broad chest deflating for a second. “Well, fucking ditto, Carrie,” he said, grinning at me.
I beamed up at him, my shoulders shaking with laughter.
“Nothing like a little trauma bonding to bring people together,” Ash continued, looking at Grayson. “Keep her, or I’ll chop your balls off.”
I slapped my hand over my mouth, another laugh trying to bubble up.
As Ash walked away, Grayson muttered, “Fucker.”
I twisted my neck to look back at him. “He’s funny,” I said.
Grayson’s lips twitched as he stared down at me. “Missed that laugh,” he murmured, his eyes shining with love. Something caught his eyes, and he jerked his chin straight ahead. I turned back to find a handsome blond man with a sharp jaw, straight nose, and piercing green eyes standing in front of me.
“You must be Hayes,” I said.
He nodded once, holding out his hand to me. “Hayes Mitchell,” he introduced himself.
I took his hand, and he shook it—firmly. “Carrie,” I replied. “It’s nice to finally meet you. Grayson’s told me so many wonderful things about you—about the whole team, actually.”
Hayes dropped my hand and gave me a tight smile. “Right.” He looked at Grayson. “When are we leaving?”
“Carrie has to speak to Sheriff Bowen, and then we’ll be off,” Grayson said to his second in command.
“No! No, you will not just ‘be off’, Grayson.”
I looked through the living room, searching for the source of the feminine voice. My eyes landed on a tall, curvy, dark-haired woman with emerald green eyes standing beside Harmony. That was when I noticed all the people crammed into Mags’ space. Mason was standing behind Harmony, his brother, Denver, standing next to him, behind the dark-haired woman. Three other cowboys stood along the far wall, two of them looking very similar. Twins. My eyes drifted to the third one. He was blond, like Mason, and his eyes were on me, studying me. I swallowed and searched for the only cowboy I was comfortable with.
Mags was in the corner, leaning against the mantel with his arms crossed over his chest. He looked over to me and Grayson. “Didn’t know the whole fuckin’ ranch wanted to come,” he muttered. His eyes landed on mine, and he tipped his hat to me.
“Valerie, we can’t stay,” Grayson rumbled from beside me.
My head snapped back to her.
This was Valerie—Denver’s wife.
Valerie shook her head. “No, I’ve been wanting to meet Carrie for months. You aren’t going to whisk her away.”
My heart warmed.
“The least you could do is let us have some girl time,” Harmony added.
Grayson sighed. “I don’t think—”
I looked back at him. “I want girl time,” I blurted.
My bounty hunter opened his mouth to say something but another throat cleared and all eyes went to the front door to find the sheriff. He ignored everyone else, looking right at me. “We need to talk.” His eyes snapped up to Grayson. “Both of you, come with me.”
“I need you to confirm the victim’s identity before they take her to the morgue,” Chase said, getting right to it once Grayson and I were on the porch.
I wrapped Grayson’s coat around me tighter and wiggled my toes inside of Mags’ new boots. “Why can’t we go to the morgue to do that?” I asked.
Chase raised a brow, slowly shifting his gaze to Grayson. “I doubt your…boyfriend is going to let you leave Hallow Ranch to go into town, Mrs. Hale.”
“Please don’t call me that,” I said at the same Grayson ordered, “Don’t fucking call her that.”
Chase moved on, holding out a folder to me. “The first picture should be enough, but if not, there’s more. I have to warn you, though, they are pretty graphic.”
Taking the folder from him, I said, “I’ve seen worse.”
A sound came from Grayson as I opened the file, holding the air in my lungs.
The first photo was a close-up of the victim’s face, eyes closed, mouth open, lips broken, severe bruising underneath her eyes. My eyes dropped down to her lips, scanning over her pointy nose and sharp cheekbones, ignoring the blood splattered across her face and focusing on the fluid on her chin.
Semen.
I didn’t need to see the rest.
I snapped the folder closed and handed it back to the Sheriff. “That’s Monica,” I whispered.
“Do you know her last name?” he asked.
I shook my head.
“Lark. Monica Lark. I have all the information on her if you want it, but I have to tell you, Chase, this isn’t a rabbit hole you want to go down,” Grayson urged darkly.
Chase put his hands on his hips, sighing. “Why is that?”
“Because Monica Lark is part of a giant fucking web that my boys and I just discovered,” Grayson explained, grabbing my hand.
“This is a murder,” Chase said and gestured to me, “and she just identified the victim. I can’t just ignore that.”
“But you can ignore the Hallow Ranch cowboys doing your dirty work and spreading ashes on that mountain?” Grayson returned calmly, jerking his chin to the mountain.
My jaw dropped, and I looked back into the cabin. “Wait—what?” I breathed, looking back to the men.
They ignored me.
“How the fuck did you know that?” Chase asked through his teeth, anger brewing in his eyes.
“I know everything about Hallow Ranch, Sheriff. Don’t fucking push me on this. One call. One fucking call, and the Feds will be all over this town and in your offices within the hour,” Grayson threatened.
My eyes widened, and I squeezed his hand. “Grayson—”
“Quiet, baby,” he cut me off, his voice hard as he stared the sheriff down.
“What do you want?” Chase finally asked, giving in.
“Declare Monica as a Jane Doe. She has no family. No one is going to come looking for her,” Grayson clipped.
“And what about the man who raped her face before beating her to death with a shower curtain rod?” Chase pressed.
“My God,” I muttered, closing my eyes for a moment. She pushed him too far. I waited for the guilt to hit me, for some sense of human compassion to flow in, but it never came.
I truly didn’t care about her, though the way she died was horrible. I wouldn’t wish that upon anyone. Was I glad she was dead? Yes. Was I okay with how she died? No. I also knew that because of what Brandon did to her, Grayson would make him hurt even more before he reaped Brandon’s soul.
“Brandon Hale is mine to hunt, Chase,” Grayson declared darkly, his voice filled with cold death.
Chase looked at me and then back to Grayson. “Fine. Hayden PD stays out of it.”
“Thank you,” I said, cutting into the the conversation. This would make things easier for Grayson, Red Snake, and me. The sheriff looked at me for a moment, and then he said his piece.
“You’re one hell of a fucking human to escape your kidnappers and run three miles in the freezing snow—barefoot.”
I had nothing to say to that. What could I say? Instead, I gave him a warm smile and thanked him for expressing his concern about me and Monica. He didn’t question me like he said he was going to, and when he was finally gone, driving away from Mags’ cabin, I turned to Grayson.
“What do you mean, these cowboys kill people?” I whisper-hissed, ripping my hand from him.
Grayson cocked his head to the side. “Your old friends in St. Louis are just the same, Carrie. So what’s your problem?”
I opened my mouth and closed it again, unsure of how to respond.
“The Langston brothers and the Hallow Ranch cowboys are no different from me and my guys, Sunshine. We kill bad people and do a damn good job at cleaning up the mess,” Grayson said firmly, stepping closer to me, bending his neck to get into my space. “Now, are you okay?” The question was soft, gentle.
His hand cupped my face, tipping my head back so I could look into his eyes as they studied me intently. “I know finding Robert the way you did…affected you—”
“I don’t give a fuck about Robert,” I blurted out, hatred in my voice.
Grayson’s face didn’t move, not a single muscle jumping in his cheek or a flash in his eyes.
“He never loved me,” I continued. “Monica took her opportunity to brag about what I would never have with Robert—his love and approval. She even went as far as body shaming me, and then she showed me her body, and that’s when it clicked.”
“When what clicked?” he asked.
“He starved both of us. It was a form of control,” I confessed.
That was when I caught it, the shadow that fell over my bounty hunter’s face. Then, just as quick as it came, it was gone, and he touched his lips to mine. “Let’s get you inside,” he said softly, turning me to the door as we left the memory of Monica Lark out in the cold.
“Here you go,” Harmony said, handing me a steaming mug of coffee.
I gladly took it, cradling it in both of my hands as she took her place beside me on Valerie and Denver’s couch. “Thank you,” I told her as she tucked her legs in, a stray curl falling from the messy bun she’d thrown her red mane into the second we got here.
Her blue eyes met mine, warm and bright. “You’re welcome. I’m going to apologize ahead of time. That’s cowboy coffee, and it…takes some getting used to,” she said, laughing.
“I’ll take anything I can get,” I murmured, bringing the mug to my lips. As the piping-hot liquid slid down my throat, I buried my grimace. No, this was definitely not Margo’s coffee, or hell, even my coffee, but it would do the job.
“One of these days, I’m going to buy a damn espresso machine and figure out how to make decent coffee,” Valerie chimed in from the kitchen just across the foyer. She was wiping down the butcher block countertops, her long, luscious dark hair falling over her shoulders. “I’ve just been so busy with…everything, I haven’t had the time,” she explained as she walked towards Harmony and me, her wide hips swaying in her wranglers.
The three of us had been here, in the main house, for about half an hour. The cowboys and Red Snake were currently in the barn loft, where Denver’s office was, having a meeting. Valerie joined us, and instead of sitting in the beautiful rocking chair in the corner by the fireplace, she took a seat on the floor on the other side of the coffee table, criss-crossing her legs.
A somewhat comfortable silence fell over the cozy farmhouse then as I continued sipping the bitter coffee, going over the last few days in my mind. I found myself staring at the loose string on my sweats for a while before Harmony cleared her throat.
I looked over to her and found empathy written all over her stunning face. My throat grew thick just staring at her, and then I remembered something one of my old friends from St. Louis, Haley, used to say: broken recognizes broken. Deep within Harmony’s eyes, I saw the broken pieces of her slowly coming together. She was being glued back together, piece by piece, and deep within my own soul, I knew her husband could be thanked for that. He was her glue.
And Grayson was mine.
“I’m so sorry,” she said, her raspy voice breaking the silence.
Valerie nodded. “So, so sorry,” she added.
I wanted to wave it off and spend the rest of my time at Hallow Ranch pretending like I didn’t just escape hell. Robert had been my hell, and even in his death, he managed to still find me. I thought about the dream I’d had last night while Mags was cooking dinner and the ghost of Robert I’d seen. Goosebumps prickled my arms then, and I shook my head, closing my eyes. “I wish I had the strength to brush it off, but this time, I don’t think I can,” I said weakly as I opened my eyes, giving the two women an unsteady smile.
“No one said you had to,” Valerie murmured.
I lowered my mug into my lap, looking down into the steam coming from it. “We’re strangers.”
“Yeah, but Val and I both knew we’d be meeting you eventually,” Harmony added.
“We’re just sorry it had to be like this, but that’s the funny thing about this life,” Valerie said, looking at her sister-in-law.
The pair smiled at each other, love evident between them.
There was something within Valerie’s voice that had my curiosity peaked. “What funny thing?” I asked.
Her green eyes landed on me, soft and warm, like the forest floor in the height of summer. “Life has a way of stringing people together, connecting them in the most unexpected ways.”
I knew this. I’d experienced this with my friend’s in Astoria, and of course, Grayson. Grayson was my connection to this place, after all. When I didn’t respond, Harmony asked, “Has Grayson ever told you how he helped Hallow Ranch?”
I shook my head. “I thought Mags was his connection to you guys,” I said, looking between them.
“If you’d like,” Valerie offered, “we’d would love to tell you that story, but it has some dark parts.”
“I’m used to darkness,” I replied, wanting to laugh.
Harmony and Valerie shared another look, and then they shared their story.
By the end of it, I had fallen even more in love with Grayson, and I didn’t think that was possible. Shortly after the story was finished and our tears were dried, the men flooded the house. Grayson came straight to me and remained beside me as the rest of the Hallow Ranch cowboys introduced themselves, including an older gentleman named Jigs, who was Beau’s father. Then, there were the children; Denver’s teenage son, Caleb, who was the spitting image of his father, and NJ, Valerie and Denver’s baby girl. She was named after both of their mothers: Nancy Jane.
The day turned into evening, and the Langston brothers ended up cooking dinner for everyone, working in tandem in the beautiful green kitchen. The farmhouse was crowded that evening, filled with stories, light bickering between the cowboys, and even laughter. Toward the end of the night, I moved out onto the front porch for some air, the winter cold hitting my cheeks the second I stepped outside.
Grayson and Hayes were in a deep conversation with Mason about something, and I took the opportunity to step away. After the last few days, I just needed some quiet, some time to try and wrap my head around all of this.
I wrapped the coat around myself and let out a long breath, watching it drift out into the night as I shivered.
“It’s too cold out here for you.”
I jumped, yelping slightly, and turned to find Mags leaning against the corner of the house, in the shadows. “I could say the same for you,” I told him.
He said nothing, looking back into the night as, in the distance, the howl of a wolf echoed through the winter air.
How long had he been out here?
Why wasn’t he inside with everyone, with his family?
“Thank you,” I blurted, holding my breath.
When he finally looked at me again, he asked, “For what?”
“For saving my life,” I whispered.
The tortured cowboy moved then, his boots carrying him across the porch, not stopping until he was directly in front of me. He stared down at me, his eyes hidden by the shadow of his hat, the light of the house behind him. “Don’t thank me,” he rumbled.
“I owe you my life,” I croaked.
He hooked his finger under my chin as it wobbled, his face serious. “Keep saving Grayson’s life, and we’ll be square.”
“But—”
Mags dropped his hand and moved by me, walking down the steps. “Don’t lose that light of yours, Carrie. That’s what keeps him alive.”
Before I could even get another word out, he was gone, walking into the night. A second later, I heard the door open and felt a familiar body behind me, his heat enveloping me as he wrapped an arm around my front. “What are you doing out here?” Grayson asked, his deep voice skating over my cold skin.
“Talking to Mags,” I whispered, still staring into the darkness.
Grayson was quiet for a moment, touching my cold cheek. “I owe him.”
So did I.
Mags had saved Grayson’s life and mine, and yet? He was still alone in this world. His words echoed in my mind.
Don’t lose that light of yours, Carrie. That’s what keeps him alive.
Who was keeping Mags alive?