Chapter 16
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Rowan sipped from the heavy crystal glass, and the bourbon burned a smooth trail of fire down his throat. He leaned back on the couch with his boots propped casually on the mahogany coffee table.
He was supposed to be asleep. Working in the round pen was going to suck tomorrow on two hours of sleep. But he’d learned long ago not to attempt to sleep after a doozy of a nightmare. He heard the clicking of nails on the wooden floor before Trident appeared next to his elbow.
“I’ve got no food, Dude.”
Trident huffed and jumped onto the couch next to him. The shepherd circled around three times before he flopped down and placed his head on Rowan’s lap.
“There’s no point in givin’ me them puppy dog eyes, Try, because I’m still not giving you no food. You had dinner twice already, because I know for a fact you conned Gael out of one when he got home with Rain.”
A sharp, insistent beep sliced through the stillness of the night, and Rowan jerked to his feet.
That’s the gate.
Rowan slapped the bourbon glass down and ignored the liquid sloshing against the rim. “Gael, breach on perimeter.” He raced to Gael’s office and fired up the computer for the screens where the feed looped for the cameras. He scanned the boxes on screen and paused on the feed for the main gate.
“What’s happening?” Gael asked as he joined Rowan at the computer.
“The security system is signaling a breach.” He pointed to the screen, “There is something moving there, but I can’t figure out if it’s an animal or not.”
“Damn horse you insisted we take back probably broke out again,” Gael grumbled. “That’ll be three times, Ro. Three times, and he’s been here less than twenty-four hours.”
Before Rowan could answer, his phone vibrated again, this time with Theo’s ringtone. He snatched it up, his thumb jabbing accept before it hit the second ring.
“Gate breach.” Theo’s voice was clipped over the line. “Main entrance. Motion sensors were tripped. There’s a vehicle parked outside. Footage shows a single intruder, on foot.”
Rowan shoved back from the desk, boots thudding to the floorboards. He yanked open the top drawer. His fingers closed around the Glock 19’s familiar grip, holster snapping onto his belt in one fluid motion. “Arm the TOC. Lock down the barns. Who’s on rotation?”
“Jericho and Colson. Bronx and Scout are en route from the bunkhouse. Formation’s your call,” Theo rattled off his responses. “Silent approach?”
“Yes. No engines.” Rowan killed the call as Gael was revealing the safe bolted behind the bookshelves. His brother punched in the code, and the door hissed open to reveal their weapons stash.
Rowan grabbed his preferred AR-15 with a suppressor threaded on and a mag loaded with hollow points.
He shrugged on the sling and attached the weapon to it.
He briefly considered leaving it at that, but old habits die hard, and he grabbed two K-Bars and strapped one onto his ankle and the other onto his left arm. His backup sidearm went in his boot.
He hit the ranch-wide alert on the wall panel, and three short bursts of low-frequency tones that wouldn’t carry beyond the bunkhouse and barn sounded, along with sending an alert to every man on the property’s phone.
Gael geared up next to him with his suppressed MP5 slung across his chest, and knowing his twin, probably at least half a dozen blades were hidden somewhere on his body.
“Perimeter?” Rowan chambered a round and jerked his chin toward the computer. He grabbed some comms units, checked the batteries, and tossed one to his twin.
“Clear so far. Sensors show the breach climbing the east side of the gate.” Gael jerked his chin toward the window, where the ranch house lights stayed dim. “Team’s ready to roll. We fanning out?”
Rowan nodded once. “Stack on me. Jericho takes point recon. Move quiet.”
They slipped out the back door into the chilly, pre-dawn morning.
The grass was slick under their boots. Rowan led the way, hugging the fence line where the shadows pooled deepest, the weight of his weapon steady in his hands.
Gael flanked left, and Jericho went right.
Within seconds Rowan couldn’t see them anymore.
It wasn’t long before the gate’s silhouette loomed in front of them, its iron bars glinting faintly under moonlight.
Colson peeled off to cover the treeline, and Bronx dropped into cover behind a stack of hay bales.
The rest of his men pressed on, their boots almost silent as they closed half the distance without a sound.
Rowan crouched low behind a weathered fence post when Jericho signaled halt with a fist. His point man had his eyes locked on the shadows around the gate.
When Jericho touched his fingers to his right ear, Rowan cocked his head to one side to listen.
Then he heard it too, a faint muttering coming from the direction of the gate as if someone were talking to themselves.
If this is some drunk who wanted to take a damn piss in private, I’m going to shoot his fucking dick off, just for shits and giggles.
His earpiece crackled as Theo came online. “Boss, TOC. I got intel on that vehicle at the gate..”
“Go ahead, TOC, gimmie what you got.”
“It’s a black Jeep Wrangler. I ran the plates through DMV, and they came back as registered to Enya Moore.”
What the fuck?
Rowan froze, as his pulse kicked up. “Verify that intel again TOC.”
“I did, sir,” Theo grumbled. “I ran the damn plates three times. Your girl is at the gates, Prince Charming.”
“My girl, my ass.” He didn’t need that Prince Charming shit starting up again. “I swear to fuck, if this is one of you assholes pulling a prank, when I find out who did it, you’ll be cleaning my damn barn with a toothbrush.”
“No prank, sir,” Theo replied. “Seahorse Two, TOC, confirm to One that this isn’t a joke.”
Gael peered at something on his phone, then moved positions to come beside him. He shoved the screen under Rowan’s nose. “That her rig?”
“How the hell would I know? I’ve never seen her vehicle.
” Rowan’s mind raced as he tried to figure out what the hell was going on.
People didn’t just turn up at someone’s house in the middle of the night without a damn good reason.
Especially when they weren’t in the drop-in-whenever category of friends group.
She must have come because of Rain.
He supposed that was as legit a reason as any.
He’d go to the ends of the earth for a horse wearing the SHR brand.
“Jericho, advance to overlook. Colson, flank to our three o’clock on a quiet sweep.
Bronx, cover from the bales.” Rowan reeled off commands, and his men peeled off like shadows merging with the night to follow his orders.
Rowan stepped clear of the fence post’s cover with deliberate slowness, his weapon still at ready position until he remembered this was a traumatized woman he was approaching, and he lowered it to point at the ground.
How the hell am I supposed to appear unthreatening?
As the others fanned out behind him, he figured considering who they were and the fact they were armed to the teeth, unthreatening wasn’t going to happen, so he proceeded toward the gate with Gael covering his flank.
Until he could make out the small figure crouched in the shadows of the ranch gates. He didn’t need to get closer to know it was Enya.
Her head snapped up at the rustle of movement, and even from this distance, he could see her eyes widen when she saw them.
She scrambled back, her boots kicking against the dirt, sending up a small spray of pebbles that rattled against the gate, and a half-gasp, half-sob tore from her throat.
“Don’t—” Her voice cracked, raw and uneven. “I’m sorry.”
Yeah, no, fuck that shit.
Rowan kept his pace slow and deliberate, as if he were approaching a spooked colt in a thunderstorm.
“Enya.” His voice was low, steady. “It’s Rowan. What are you doing here, Sugar?” He winced as soon as the endearment was out of his mouth. There was no way the guys missed it, and no doubt would bring fucking Prince Charming back into existence.
Just when I’d gotten them to stop fucking calling me that stupid name, too.
She flinched at the sound of his voice, “I—I didn’t—”
“Easy.” He stopped about ten feet from here. “Nobody’s going to hurt you. You’re at Stronghold Ranch. Was this where you were aiming for, or did you take a wrong turn somewhere?” He didn’t think that was the case, but for some reason, he wanted to give her an out.
Next, I’ll be inviting her up to the house for fucking tea.
Maybe I should just change my damn call sign to Prince Fuckin Charming.
Her chest hitched, “I wasn’t—didn’t mean to—”
Gael shifted beside him, the gravel crunching faintly under his boot, but Rowan cut him off with a single, sharp gesture.
Stay back.
Enya’s gaze darted between them, pupils blown wide, swallowing the pale blue of her irises.
She looked like she hadn’t slept in days, and her clothes hung off her as if she hadn’t seen a decent meal since he’d brought her home from Colombia.
“I just—” Her voice broke again, thinner this time.
“Rain’s here. I didn’t know where else to go. ”
Damn.
That this traumatized woman didn’t know where else to go, but trusted him enough to come here, did something weird to his heart. Rowan ignored it and carefully moved closer to her. “He’s safe. We have him in one of the stallion pens at the barn.”
She swallowed hard, her throat working against the words. “I… can I see him?”
“Hey.” Rowan softened his voice. “Why don’t you come on up to the house, and you can see him in the morning. If we go to the barn right now, every horse is going to be looking for breakfast, and that would piss off Hal, our barn manager.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You’re okay. No one’s hurt. No one’s mad.”
A broken laugh escaped her, bitter and disbelieving. “Yeah, right.”