Chapter 33
Roque
I took the seat closest to Ned, with Judd and Keir flanking me. The big den had been transformed into something just shy of a command center—laptops were open, files were spread, and one wall was lined with whiteboards and pinned documents. It wasn’t official, but it was thorough, organized, and purposeful.
And this wasn’t the first time Ned had done something like this. I could see it in how he moved and how efficiently his people worked around him.
Hurst stood to one side of the table, arms crossed as he listened while I walked them through what happened—Sayla’s abduction, the two men involved, Briggs’s warning, and the mention ofTitian.
Ned’s expression didn’t shift much, but I could tell the wheels were turning. His jaw ticked just slightly, and his fingers drummed against the table.
Just as I finished, one of Ned’s security personnel entered the room. He was a clean-cut guy with an earpiece still in and a folder clutched in one hand that he dropped on the table in front of Ned with a nod.
“Came through twenty minutes ago. Thought you’d want it immediately.”
Ned opened the folder, skimmed the first page, and then looked up at us.
“As of an hour ago, Walter Griggs’s financial accounts have been frozen.” His voice was calm but edged with satisfaction.
Judd straightened. “That was fast.”
“I’ve got a small group inside the Bureau I trust,” Ned replied, flipping to the next document. “They moved as soon as I sent them the information. They pushed it hard once they saw agent credentials tied to unauthorized access. It turns out a few agents on the insidearen’tcrooked, and they’re damn eager to clean house once they got the proof.”
He set the folder down and leaned back. “Griggs wasn’t at home when my people passed earlier this morning, but we’re tracking him now. I’ve got a wider surveillance net than he does, and much smarter security.”
Hurst gave a low grunt of agreement. “The man’s been playing dirty for a long time. He just finally overplayed his hand.”
Ned nodded. “And we’re going to make it uncomfortable as hell for him. Not just for him but for his security team, too. Their accounts were frozen right along with his. So, unless they’ve got stacks of cash hidden in their mattresses, they have no money, access, or cover.”
“And if they try to get money from any of their criminal contacts…” Keir said slowly.
Ned’s smile was cold. “Exactly, we’ll be there waiting. They touch one dirty dollar, and it’s another charge. Caught red-handed with the proceeds of crime.”
There was a beat of silence as that sank in.
“So, what now?” I asked.
“Now we wait for the right moment,” Ned shrugged. “Griggs is cornered, whether he knows it yet or not. He’ll reach out to someone and try to cash in a favor or dig for leverage. We’re just letting him hang himself.”
I glanced toward the hallway, where Sayla and the kids had gone with Lindee.
“Just make sure none of that blowback hits her or the kids.”
“It won’t,” Ned promised. “I’m going to bury this bastard, Roque. And anyone standing next to him when the shit hits the fan.”
Ned had just closed the folder when his phone buzzed on the table.
He picked it up, checked the screen, and breathed sharply through his nose. “And there it is.”
“What?” I asked, already sitting forward.
“Griggs just made a move.” He tapped the screen and turned it so I could see. A surveillance shot—timestamped five minutes ago—showed Griggs getting into a car outside a strip mall two towns over. He wasn’t alone. Another man was with him, partially obscured behind the windshield, but the posture was on guard.
“We’ve been running surveillance feeds through facial recognition software,” Ned explained. “He’s ditched his usual car, but we’ve now tagged the plates on this one. It belongs to one of his personal security team—who should be broke right now unless they just got paid in cash.”
“Which would be dumb,” Judd muttered, leaning over my shoulder. “Because now they’ve officially tied themselves to criminal funding.”
Ned nodded. “Exactly. That’s the leverage we needed. He’s panicking, which means he’s vulnerable.”
“Where’s he heading?” I asked.
Ned’s security guy was already on one of the laptops nearby, typing fast. “Looks like he met with someone in that parking lot—short exchange, no physical hand-off. We’ve got a tail on him now, keeping a distance.”
I frowned. “He’s meeting people in broad daylight?”
Ned’s voice dropped a notch. “Desperate men make messy decisions.”
Hurst stepped closer to the table, arms crossed, his presence as steady as ever. “He knows he’s being watched now, there’s no way he doesn’t. This means he’s either bluffing for power or running out of time.”
“Or both,” I added.
The room fell quiet as the screen updated again—a new photo, this time of Griggs stepping into a second vehicle in the back lot of a run-down hotel on the edge of town. The security guy tapped his keyboard, and it turned out that this one wasn’t registered with any of his known associates.
Ned stared at the screen, his fingers tapping once against the edge of the phone. “If he’s making contact with someone off-grid, it’s either to disappear or strike first. And if he’s foolish enough to go after Sayla and the kids again?—”
“He won’t get that far,” I cut in.
He wouldn’t. I’d burn the whole damn county down before I let him get close to her or the kids.
Ned looked at me, and all the sharp politician polish dropped for a moment. “We’re going to finish this, Roque. But I need to know something—if he runs, are you ready to cross the line if it comes down to it?”
I met his gaze without hesitation. “I already was the second he took her.”
Ned nodded once. “Then let’s box him in.”
By midday, the trap was set.
Griggs had moved again, this time to a private airstrip on the outskirts of a neighboring town—remote, low-traffic, often used by people who wanted to avoid being seen. He’d ditched his backup vehicle and was now traveling with just one man—lean, military build, sunglasses that didn’t hide the fact he was scanning for a threat.
It was too late for that.
Judd, Keir, and I moved out with a three-person unit from Ned’s trusted security. The Rangers were already active, following up on a list of officers tied to Griggs—names we'd fed them through Ned’s clean FBI contacts. So far, two were already in custody. Two more were missing, but the Rangers had their addresses and weren't the kind to knock gently.
We didn’t wait for Griggs to board a plane.
He was twenty feet from the stairs, phone in hand, when Keir’s voice crackled over comms. “Target confirmed. Go.”
I moved first.
We came in from both sides—Judd flanking left, Keir on the right, two of Ned’s men fanning out behind. One quick, sharp order— “Hands where I can see them!”—and the man with Griggs reached for his waistband.
Bad call.
Keir dropped him with a shot to the shoulder—non-lethal, but it took him out of the fight fast. Griggs froze, arms lifting slowly, his mouth working like he couldn’t believe we’d actually shown up. I got in close and slapped cuffs on him myself.
Up close, he looked older and smaller, his false confidence stripped away. “You have no idea what you’ve just done,” he hissed at me.
“Sure I do,” I shrugged, tightening the cuffs until he winced. “I just took away your runway.”
Back at the ranch, Ned’s team confirmed the arrest. Sayla and the kids were kept safely inside while the last threads were pulled tight.
Then came the second name on our list.
Vincent Russo, the man who’d taken Sayla and worked under the radar with a federal clearance that should’ve been stripped years ago.
It didn’t take long to track him.
With Griggs in custody and his burner phones confiscated, our FBI contacts were able to trace a recent call to an apartment on the edge of San Antonio—a safe house, off the grid, not listed to anyone. They sent a team that found
Russo inside, packing a go-bag. He didn’t resist when he saw the Rangers and Bureau outside his window. Not when the agents came through the door with weapons raised and authority in their voices.
They found everything: false IDs, encrypted drives, burner phones, a stash of untraceable cash, and detailed notes that connected him to multiple disappearances and all of the things we also knew he was guilty of in Palmerstown and around the state.
They also found notes about Sayla, her schedule, the kids, and a photo of her car parked outside a supermarket. It was stalker level detail, and if I’d been the one to find it all, I’d have had to be held back.
They brought him in under heavy guard, and I finally breathed a sigh of relief.
By nightfall, the list of arrests had grown.
Seven officers—some from nearby towns, others from Palmerstown—were in custody. The Rangers were already coordinating with internal affairs to keep the cleanup rolling. Everyone named in Griggs’s files or Russo’s drives was being pulled into the investigation, and more charges were being prepared by the minute. We also finally had Russo Lynch and AJ Foster, the two men who’d been at the very head of the operation and who’d been wanted for years.
It was quiet again at the ranch, but this time, the quiet wasn’t tense. It was relief.
I stood on the porch, watching the stars come out, the cool night air washing away a layer of tension that had lived under my skin for days.
Behind me, the kids were curled up on the couch, half-watching a movie with Kaida snuggled into Sayla’s lap.
Sayla caught my eye through the screen door. She smiled, and I knew—we were almost clear and breathing free.
The stars were starting to pierce through the darkening sky, the breeze carrying the scent of Lindee’s apple-something from the kitchen. The chaos had finally quieted, at least for now.
I felt Sayla’s presence before I saw her. She stepped onto the porch beside me, her arms folded lightly across her chest, and the corners of her mouth turned up just a little.
“You ready to go home?” she asked softly.
I let out a quiet chuckle and shook my head. “What home? A van literally drovethroughmine.”
She smirked, nudging her shoulder into mine. “You know, we do still havemyplace. And if we’re keeping score, this is technically our second house disaster. Kind of feels like déjà vu, hey?”
I turned to her and wrapped her in my arms, tugging her close until her face pressed into my chest. Her laugh vibrated against me.
“You really want to go back to your place?” I asked.
She tilted her head up, eyes full of mischief and something deeper. “With you and the kids? Yeah, I want us home.”
“Then let’s do this.”
The screen door creaked at that moment, and Kairo came bounding out. Kaida was hot on his heels, her blanket trailing behind her like a cape. They ran straight to us, Kaida clinging to Sayla’s leg while Kairo leaned against my side like he’d never stopped.
I dropped a kiss to the top of Sayla’s head, arms around all of them now. It felt like everything that mattered was right here.
Then, the sound of tires crunching over gravel pulled our attention to the driveway. A familiar black pickup rolled to a stop just past the porch steps, and Mark Montgomery climbed out, his baseball cap pulled low, and his expression relaxed but still sharp.
“Damn,” he drawled, eyeing us with a slow grin. “Good to see all of you in one piece.”
“Good tobein one piece,” I replied, shaking his hand.
Mark pulled me in for a rough, one-armed hug, then turned to Sayla and gave her a nod full of quiet respect. “You good?”
She nodded. “We’re good, getting there.”
“Awesome, because I’ve got your zoo.”
Sayla blinked. “Wait, what?”
Mark grinned. “Your pets. Lynyrd, Skynyrd, and—” he paused, giving me a look “— that cat. They’re at mine and Layla’s. The kids love 'em.”
Kairo cheered. “Yes, I want Dog!”
Mark turned to me, completely deadpan. “But what thefuckis up with your weird-ass cat, man?”
Sayla burst out laughing, nearly doubling over. Even Kaida started giggling, though she probably didn’t know what was funny. I tried not to grin and failed.
Mark shook his head, shuddering. “It stared at me all night from the top of the fridge. He didn’t even blink while he was doing it, like he was judging me.”
“Hedoesjudge people,” Sayla added helpfully, wiping a tear from her eye.
“Yeah, well, I’ll drop him off last. I can appreciate weirdness of that level more than most, considering I married a Townsend.”
We all laughed again, and for the first time in too damn long, it didn’t feel forced. It didn’t feel like we were laughing to keep from breaking. It just felt like we were okay.