Chapter 12
Hunter
The road stretched endlessly ahead, the two-lane highway cutting through the vast Montana wilderness, mountains rising in the distance, dark silhouettes. The sun was sinking, washing everything in shades of gold and amber, the kind of view that usually settled something deep in my chest.
Not tonight.
Jada was curled up in the passenger seat, her body turned slightly toward me, her arms tucked against her chest. She looked small, delicate in a way I knew wasn’t true. I’d seen her fight—not physically, but to understand, to survive. But asleep, the tension that almost constantly surrounded her in the sharp edges of her expression had smoothed out.
Just Jada. A woman with no past.
She’d trusted me last night, pressing against me when we’d kissed like I was the only solid thing she had left to hold on to. And maybe I was. That thought sat heavy, uncomfortable. I wasn’t the guy people relied on. Not anymore. But she’d looked up at me, eyes searching, and I’d given her something I didn’t even realize I had left to offer.
That kiss.
Hell, even as brief as that kiss had been, it had wrecked me. The way she’d melted into me, soft and warm, had made it too damn easy to forget that she didn’t know who she was. That whatever she felt now might not hold up under the weight of the truth.
So I hadn’t pushed. Instead, I’d just held her, my arms around her small frame, breathing her in as she drifted to sleep. It had been years since I’d done that—since I’d just been with a woman, no expectations, no ulterior motives.
And it had woken a part of my soul I hadn’t even realized was dying.
I glanced at her again, at the way her lips parted slightly with her steady breaths, and something inside me tightened. There were so many unknowns. And hell if I knew how to fix them. So, instead, I was taking her to a place where we could figure out the next step: the Resting Warrior Ranch.
The road curved ahead, leading us closer, and I tightened my grip on the steering wheel. While I knew bringing Jada here was the right move, I wasn’t sure how this was going to play out.
Lucas and Daniel wouldn’t turn us away, even once they saw Jada was with me. There would be questions—but they would have to wait.
Beside me, she stirred, shifting slightly in her seat. A soft exhale, the slow blink of groggy brown eyes. She stretched, her fingers brushing against the seat belt before her gaze lifted to me.
“Where are we?” Her voice was thick with sleep, quiet.
“Montana. Almost to the Resting Warrior Ranch.”
She frowned, the edges of her expression sharpening as she woke up. “The team you were with to help rescue Kenzie when I kidnapped her?”
Her words were careful, calculated—like she was testing them out, feeling for cracks in the truth she’d been handed.
I kept my focus on the road. “Alan was ultimately behind the kidnapping.” I let that settle before continuing. “But yes, my cousin helps run the place. He’ll let us stay. They’ve got space, and we need somewhere to figure things out.”
Silence stretched between us for a beat. Then, instead of pressing for more, she turned to the window.
A quiet “Wow” escaped her, barely more than breath. The land out here felt like freedom—wide and untouched, a place where the past didn’t carry such a burden.
I didn’t respond, but I felt the same damn way.
A few minutes later, we pulled up to a large gate, and I entered the code Lucas had given me after they’d installed that additional security measure. After a few bouts of trouble at the ranch, the extra precaution had to be added and only those considered family had access. Anyone else had to press the intercom for assistance. When the gate swung open, we drove up the gravel road and rumbled to a stop in front of the main lodge, dust settling around us in the evening light. The place hadn’t changed—big, solid, a constant in a world that never stopped shifting. I exhaled through my nose, rolling my shoulders before shifting into park.
“It’ll be better if you stay in the truck,” I told Jada, my voice low.
She tensed beside me but didn’t argue. Didn’t ask why. Maybe she already knew.
The front door swung open before I could step out. Lucas and Daniel emerged, their eyes sharp, cataloging everything. Lucas’s shoulders eased slightly when he saw me, but Daniel’s gaze flicked past me, locking on Jada in the passenger seat. The air changed, just enough to put my instincts on alert. I got the rest of the way out of the truck and met them at the stairs.
Lucas stopped at the base of the porch, arms crossed over his chest. “Hey there, cuz. You went off-grid without warning. I was worried about you.”
“Sorry. Had some things I needed to handle.”
Daniel’s gaze never left the truck. “And her?”
I let out a slow breath, choosing my words carefully. “She was injected with the memory drug.” I met Daniel’s eyes, making sure he understood. “Doesn’t remember a single detail about Kenzie’s kidnapping or anything else about her life. She’s struggling. We need a place to lie low until we figure out our next step.”
Silence. Lucas and Daniel exchanged a look, subtle but weighted. They didn’t have to say what we were all thinking—Jada might not remember, but the past didn’t just disappear because she’d forgotten.
Finally, Lucas gave a small nod. “Jensen and Kenzie are out of town for the week.”
I heard the unspoken message beneath that. No immediate fireworks. No confrontations. At least not yet.
I cut a glance back at the truck. Jada sat stiffly, her eyes on the lodge, her expression unreadable. I wasn’t sure if she was nervous, uneasy, or just resigned to whatever came next.
“Jace over at Citadel Solutions told me there’s no warrant out for Jada’s arrest. Is Kenzie not pressing charges?”
Daniel crossed his arms over his chest. “Kenzie felt like Alan was to be blamed for the situation. She felt bad for Jada since Alan beat her and injected her with the memory drug.”
That was a relief.
“I know this is awkward, and I promise we won’t be announcing our presence all over town. Jada isn’t innocent, and she’s not claiming to be. We both just need a place to regroup for a little while.”
Lucas ran a hand over his jaw. “Ranch is pretty full right now, but there’s a cabin on the far side. Closer to Pawsitive Connections than the lodge. Tiny, a little run-down, but it’s got the basics and supplies. It’s yours if you want it.”
I nodded once. “We’ll take it.”
Lucas didn’t ask for more details. Daniel didn’t push. But I knew them both well enough to see it in their eyes—they wanted answers. Wanted to know why I was involved. Wanted to know what the ultimate plan was.
They weren’t going to get those answers tonight. Neither was I.
Lucas got me a key, and I went back out to the truck.
“Is it okay that I’m here?” she whispered. “If not, I would understand.”
“It’s okay,” I assured her. “There’s a cabin on the far side of the property we can use.”
She was silent as we drove, the truck’s tires crunching over uneven ground as we followed a barely there path through the open land. The main ranch faded behind us, swallowed by rolling fields and clusters of trees, the sky deepening into the last shades of twilight. I rolled down my window. It was quiet out here—no traffic, no voices, just the occasional call of a bird and the rhythmic creak of the truck’s suspension as we bumped along. Peaceful. Isolating. Exactly what we needed.
The cabin came into view, a small structure tucked at the edge of a clearing, its dark wood blending into the trees behind it. It wasn’t much—one story, maybe a couple of rooms—but it was shelter. A safe place.
I parked and killed the engine. Jada didn’t move at first, just stared at the cabin like she was bracing for something. Then, without a word, she opened the door and stepped out.
She walked inside while I grabbed our bags from the truck, cheap clothes from the supercenter we’d stopped at on our way here. By the time I followed, she was standing in the middle of the room, taking it all in. Tiny living space, a basic kitchen, bathroom, one bedroom. She didn’t say anything about that, didn’t seem unsettled by it, and that was good.
I watched her carefully, waiting for some kind of reaction, but she just turned toward the window, her gaze drawn outside.
There was a corral fairly close, a handful of horses shifting in the darkening field, their movements slow and easy. Jada pressed her fingers lightly to the glass, exhaling softly. “They’re beautiful,” she murmured. “So free.”
She stayed there for a long moment, then without looking at me, moved to the oversized chair in the corner, looking out another window. She curled her legs beneath her, sinking into the cushions like she was finally letting herself breathe.
I should’ve left her to it. Given her space, let her work through whatever was going on in her head.
But I wasn’t good at this—dealing with emotions, saying the right thing. And I didn’t want to walk away from her either.
I lingered by the kitchen, fingers drumming against the countertop. “You hungry?”
She didn’t answer right away. Then, small and soft, “No.”
I nodded, not pushing. But I didn’t leave her alone either.
Instead, I lowered myself into the chair across from her, letting the silence stretch between us. It was heavy with unspoken things, unanswered questions, unknown futures. And I stared out the window myself.
Once again, there were no answers. But at least neither of us was alone.