Jethro
MY NEW HOME.
For the next thirty or so hours.
I surveyed my camp. Wings stood tethered to a tree and my tent stood sentry in the small glen. It’d taken an hour or so to set up—it would’ve been less if my body wasn’t low on fuel and the pain from my wound hadn’t decided to make itself known.
Payback for ignoring the warning signs while proving to Nila that I was strong and capable and deserving of her trust.
Louille would have a fucking fit if he knew what I’d done only hours after checking myself out from the hospital.
I swore under my breath, prodding the fresh blood stain on my side. The stitches had done their job and knitted me together, but at the very edge the skin had torn slightly. A throb resonated from rib to lung.
Oh, well. It was a good test to judge what I’m able to do.
Not to mention, I would do it all over again even if my side burst open mid-thrust. Nila consumed my every thought, my every sense. I’d only been away from her for sixty minutes, yet I missed her as if it’d been sixty years.
Opening the front zipper on the duffel, I pulled out some extra strength painkillers. Popping a few, I swallowed them dry and returned to securing the last peg of the tent.
I didn’t know why I bothered. I wouldn’t sleep. I could never rest knowing Nila was in the Hall being mentally and physically tortured.
How fucking dare they use the Heretic’s Fork and cut off her hair? How dare they fucking think they had that right?
Insane, the lot of them.
If I was stronger and had better odds, I would’ve stormed Hawksridge tonight and slaughtered my father in his bed. But he had the Black Diamonds on his side. He had an army where I did not.
I wouldn’t kill myself by being stupid.
I’d been stupid for long enough already.
I was home.
This was my empire, and I’d had enough of my family’s madness.
Throwing the smaller duffel inside the tent, I crawled in after it. This campsite wasn’t a stranger to me. I’d spent many nights huddled in the glen away from the Hall—away from screaming tempers, guilt-infested excuses, and anger-laden requirements.
When Cut tossed me out to make it to the boundary in the dead of winter, I wouldn’t have survived if I hadn’t already self-taught how to build shelter, hunt, and navigate.
I liked my little sanctuary. If I’d had the strength to climb, I could’ve forgone the flimsy tent and scaled the boughs of an ancient oak tree where I’d built a tree fort in my youth.
I used to take Kes and Jaz there before we were old enough to know our duties.
Before life ruined us.
It was barely sunrise, but by tomorrow morning, I hoped to change the future of Hawksridge. I wouldn’t just have the glen for peace and safety; I’d have the entire estate.
I’d finally have what was mine.
No waiting for my thirtieth. No obeying a psychopath.
Not anymore.
Twenty-four hours to put into place the rest of my life.
Another few hours to implement it.
I’d told Nila two days. I would stick to that promise.
Taking a deep breath, I hoisted myself onto the fold-out stretcher. Flaw had truly come through for me. He’d even packed a small generator so I could charge my phone and keep a light against the slowly creeping dawn.
Goosebumps covered my body, hidden below the thick parka Flaw had given me at the hospital. Winter had well and truly taken hold, determined to remind me that once upon a time I’d welcomed the frost. I’d mimicked winter by absorbing its ice and doing my best to freeze out other emotions.
It was like an old friend, a new enemy, a family member I no longer needed for help.
Grabbing the small electric heater stuffed into the bottom of the duffel, I plugged it into the generator and placed it by my feet. My body didn’t have the reserves it needed to keep warm—not while most of my cells focused on healing my side.
My thoughts drifted to Nila.
Had she arrived at her quarters safely? Was she warm in bed, thinking of me—reliving my fingers inside her, my tongue sweeping hers?
“Shit.” Shaking my head, I did my best to force those thoughts away. My cock was far too eager to attempt a third time.
It didn’t work.
Nila’s moans echoed in my mind. Her voice vibrated in my ears as she admitted she loved me.
How am I supposed to concentrate?
Nila was replaced with images of Kestrel—slowly dying alone in a strange hospital. Then my father leapt into my head, laughing, tormenting.
He’d never grown out of the spoiled brat syndrome—just like Daniel.
I didn’t know the full story of how my father became heir, but my mother had dropped hints. Emma, too—when she was alive. Cut was many things, but he’d told some of his darkest secrets to Emma, knowing they’d die with her with no repercussions.
Livid rage heated my veins, better than any heater.
Now, he’ll pay.
And I knew exactly how I’d do it.
Pulling out my phone, I sent a message to Nila.
Unknown Number: I love you with every breath and heartbeat. Stay true to yourself. Trust me. You’re strong enough; you’re brave enough. You’re my inspiration to end this. Don’t give up on me, Nila. Two days and it’s over.
I didn’t wait for a reply. Waiting would drive me crazy and horrid conclusions would consume me. I had to trust that Jasmine would keep Nila safe and allow me to do what was needed.
Reaching into the duffel, I pulled out the little black address book I’d kept hidden in my room. I’d given Flaw directions on where to retrieve it when he collected me. An address book was archaic nowadays with phones and computers, but I’d never been more thankful for old-fashioned practices.
I had no clue where my old phone was. This was my last record.
Flicking through the dog-eared pages, I sighed with relief, grateful for contacts I could rely on. Men I’d met and were loyal to me, not my father. Men who were ruthless in their own right. Men who could help me win against Cut and his legalities.
My eyes skipped over numbers for acquaintances I’d met on smuggling routes. Outlaws and pioneers, tanker captains and bribed coastguards.
I might have a need for them in the future, but not for this.
I had one man in mind.
There it is.
Arthur ‘Kill’ Killian, Pure Corruption MC.
I doubted many heirs to an English estate would have the personal contact of a president of an American motorcycle club.
But, thank fuck, I did.
Inputting the number, I pressed call on the phone and held it to my ear.
The line crackled, lacking a proper signal in the woods—struggling to connect Buckinghamshire to Florida.
The ringing stopped, followed by a loud screech. “You’ve reached Kill.”
My hand tightened around the phone. “Hawk calling.”
A pause, followed by some shuffling. “Hang on. Let me get somewhere private.”
“Sure.”
I waited for faint voices to fade; Killian came back on the line. “What’s up?”
“I need your help. Do you have trusted brothers in the UK?”
“I might. Why?”
“I need your help overthrowing someone. Give me some men, don’t ask questions, and our alliance will be cemented for whatever you need in the future. Diamonds, smuggling—you name it. It’s yours.”
Now wasn’t the time to mention that when I was in power, I planned on ceasing that side of the business. Diamonds to me were covered in blood and death. I wanted no part in it.
Silence for a moment.
Kill growled, “Give me a few hours. I’ll see what I can do.”
He hung up.
Phase one complete.
The next part of my strategy would be tricky, but I had no alternative. I didn’t spread myself over Plan A or Plan B. This first attempt was my only attempt.
It will work.
Refreshing the screen, I dialled another number—one I’d never called before—but knew by heart because of our association.
It rang and rang.
A dawn phone call wouldn’t be acceptable to anyone, but if he knew what was good for him, he’d answer it.
Finally, a sleepy, almost drunk, voice answered, “Hello?”
My heart squeezed to think my family had browbeaten this proud business owner into the spineless grieving father he’d become. We’d won over his family—more times than I could count. “Tex Weaver?”
He sucked in a breath. Rustling sounded; his voice lost its haziness. “You. You have the fucking nerve to call me after what you’ve done.” He coughed, his temper howling down the line. “I’ll fucking kill you with my bare hands. Where’s my son? My daughter?”
“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”
Tex raged, “The time for talking is done. I’m sick of it. Sick of all your threats and promises. You took my Emma but I won’t let you take our kids.” Breathing hard, he snarled, “I’ve put things in place, Hawk. I’m ending this. Once and for all.”
I plucked an oak leaf from the tent floor. “I know what you’ve been doing, Tex.”
“Doesn’t matter. Won’t stop me. Not this time. You can’t scare me away like you did with Emma. I’ll die before I let you hurt my children anymore.”
“I was hoping you’d say that.”
He paused. “What—what do you mean?”
Leaning forward, I stared through the tent gap at the woodland around me. This was my office, my headquarters, and it was time to arrange a battalion for battle. “I’m on your side. I want to help you.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“You don’t have to believe me. It’s the truth.”
“What have you done with my children? If you’ve hurt Nila—”
“Sir, she’s the one who has hurt me.”
Tex sucked in a breath. “Good for her. I hope she tears out your motherfucking heart.”
I chuckled. “I’m in love with your daughter, Mr. Weaver. I have no intention of letting her tear out my heart.”
Tex’s temper soared into my ear. “Yet you’ll happily behead her just like her mother! What sort of sick fuck are you?”
“You’re not listening to what I’m telling you.”
“I’m listening perfectly fine, you son of a bitch, but you can’t scare me with these twisted phone calls anymore.
Your father played the same game. Calling to tell me Emma was too sweet, too pure to die—that he’d find a way to end it.
Only to call me on the eve of her death to tell me it was all a lie!
He destroyed me, and now you’re destroying the dregs that are left.
” Something crashed in the background. “I’ll tell you right now—I’m not listening.
I’m coming for you, Hawk, and I’m going to make you fucking pay. ”
My anger boiled over, meeting his. “Christ’s sake.
Listen to me. I’m in love with Nila. I’m putting an end to this feud.
You don’t have to believe me. Just listen.
I’m offering you everything you want. Your son, your daughter.
..grandchildren who won’t be taken for some ludicrous vendetta.
Do you want that? Will you risk talking to me so we can work together to end this? ”
Silence.
More silence.
What did I expect? Our families had been raised to hate each other. Archibald lost his wife to my father—of course, he’d hate me.
I can do it without him.
Maybe then he’d believe me when I said Nila was now mine and I would do everything in my power to keep her safe.
I sighed, “Look—”
Tex interrupted. “What do you expect from me, Hawk?”
My shoulders slumped with relief.
I had him.
“I expect you to help me save the woman we love.”