Chapter - Carter
Carter
My best friend of over a decade just interrupted me with that look on his face that says shit is hitting the fan, and I still have the very real urge to put him on his back for it.
I would have, if not for what he says next.
“Vance spotted three of them coming up from Bramble.”
The shift is immediate. I haven’t been on active duty in over a year but that doesn’t matter. Once a SEAL always a SEAL. A second ago, my attention was on Sloane, on the way she pulled me back into the kiss like she didn’t want me to ever stop, and now that gets set aside because it has to.
“What direction?” I ask.
“South trail. Moving slow.”
I nod once, already running the terrain in my head. There are only a few ways up that side of the mountain without tearing up a vehicle, and if they’re taking their time, they’re trying to make sure they don’t walk into something they can’t handle.
In a surprisingly smart maneuver, they’re avoiding town altogether. They must be trying to silence Sloane without any witnesses.
Behind me, I can hear her breathing shift, feel her attention on me without turning around. She’s waiting for me to tell her what happens next, and I don’t leave her standing in the lurch for long.
Turning back to her I step in close enough that she doesn’t have to raise her voice above a whisper to talk to me.
“Lock the door behind me and don’t open it unless it’s me or Walker,” I tell her.
Her eyes move over my face like she’s committing it to memory.
“Carter—”
“I’ve got it,” I say, keeping my tone steady. “Every man on our side, served with me in the Navy. They know this mountain a hell of a lot better than those bozos ever could. You’re safe here and I’ll be home soon.”
She nods, even if I can see she doesn’t like it, but that’s enough. Sloane’s got grit, and I know she can handle whatever today brings.
Walker is already moving and I fall into step beside him as we head down the slope.
We don’t talk once we’re out of sight of the cabin.
We don’t need to. This isn’t the first time we’ve moved together like this, and it doesn’t take anything more than a glance for us to split up without saying a word.
I take the lower line through the trees where the ground is softer and the cover is thicker. The air is still enough that sound carries, and the men trying to sneak up to my cabin are not being careful enough to compensate for it.
I hear them before I see them.
Three voices, low and steady, moving along the trail without any real concern about who might be ahead of them. They think they’re still outside of earshot.
They’re not.
I close the distance until I have a clear line of sight, crouched behind a fallen log that gives me a view of the trail without exposing my position. Three men in leather cuts, spread out just enough to give themselves space without losing each other as the sun begins to set.
One of them drifts a step behind the others.
That’s the one I take first.
I move in fast and keep it quiet, coming up behind him before he has time to turn. My hand locks around his throat as I pull him off the trail, cutting off whatever he was about to say. He struggles for a second, not enough to matter, and I don’t give him time to find his footing.
By the time the other two notice he’s gone, he’s already down.
They turn at the same time as Walker steps out from the trees.
One of them reaches for his gun, but Walker doesn’t give him the time to follow through. The shot is quick and accurate. I’d expect nothing less from a decorated sniper.
The third man looks between us and makes a decision that would almost be smart if we were different men.
He runs.
I’m already moving.
He makes it a few feet before I catch him, driving him down hard enough to take the fight out of him before it starts. He pushes back once, more instinct than strategy, and I end it there.
When it’s done, the insects and birds become vocal once more. Walker lowers his weapon and scans the tree line out of habit.
“That’s all of them.”
“For now,” I say.
He nods, already reaching for his phone.
“I’ll call Larson.”
I leave him to it and head back up the trail. Three men with matching patches is enough for the sheriff to work with. They crossed state lines to attack Sloane, and with dirty cops in the mix, and the fact that they’re part of a gang, he’ll get the feds involved.
We’ll keep up the surveillance for now, but I seriously doubt the Iron Vultures MC will send anyone else to darken my doorstep.
She’s at the door before I get there. Her eyes go straight to my hands and then my face, checking for wounds and I realize belatedly that she heard the gunshot.
“It’s handled,” I tell her.
Her shoulders drop as she takes that in.
“Are you hurt?”
“No.”
She steps closer, her hands coming up to rest against my chest like she’s confirming I’m still alive and whole. She doesn’t ask for details or for reassurance. She takes me at my word, and that warms my soul in a way I never expected.
“Walker?” she asks absentmindedly.
“He’s fine.”
Sloane nods once, her soft brown eyes never leaving my face as she looks at me. There’s no panic in her expression, no expectation that something is about to go wrong.
She believes me when I say she’s safe. Her breathing shifts, just enough for me to notice.
Bringing my hand up to the side of her neck, my thumb settles under her jaw where I can feel her pulse thrumming steadily.
“No one is ever going to hurt you again,” I tell her. “Not on my watch.”