Chapter 9
9
ROBE
The moment I thought I had an answer, it turned to shit in my hands. Or in this case, into a black-souled asshole. Several of them, though only one would be left alive at the end of our encounter. But before I got to deal out an ass whooping, even a verbal one, I had the small problem of facing off with my household stripper.
“No. She’s not even close to ready for intimacy.” I glowered at him, my mind on Miller, who waited for me in the shadows beyond the house’s doorway. “This’ll have to wait for another time.”
Alan glowered at me, a more Milleresque behavior than I expected from him. “Giddy up, Robe, or someone will do it for you. She’s been here for weeks now, and we’re still treating her like a fragile piece of fucking glass.”
“I know she’s not glass.”
“Then treat her better,” he countered, refusing to back down, the damn brat.
“She’s been abused!” I roared. Clenching my teeth, I shot a glance at her door, where Will stood guard. He watched our interaction quietly, and knowing his history with his father, I didn’t want to play his personal trauma out in front of him. “I’ll… think of something. Give her a job. Maybe you could train her to make cocktails.” I glanced at the doorway again.
“It’s not enough. She needs intimacy. That girl needs to know she’s loved.” Alan stopped shy of grabbing at me.
That single word stopped me cold.
“She has no fucking family left and no one who can claim her,” I snapped, stepping into his space, ready to shake sense into the kid. He knew that; he was the one who cyberstalked her on my damn orders.
“She has you.”
My gut sank even as my head wanted to accept what he suggested. But a few random touches and support while I interrogated her nicely to get what I wanted shouldn’t count as a claim. Still, no matter how I disparaged the idea, the possessive monster in my chest approved.
I stared at him. “You’re out of your mind. She’s hurt. She doesn’t want me pushing into her life and making her feel invaded. Now?—”
“Have you asked her?” Alan popped his hip out like a bratty teen and threw me a fuck you, daddy smile to match.
“Watch the attitude,” I retorted, brushing him off. “I’ll be back whenever this is done. Fucking behave.” I shook my head and turned my back to him, ready to rant my way out the door.
“She needs you.” The plea in his voice struck home, but we were out of time.
“Robe.” Jon canted his head toward Miller, who was still waiting for me.
I blew out a breath. “We can talk later.” I dismissed my bartender and pushed the whole encounter out of my mind the moment I set foot over the threshold.
The stocky man stood at the house’s entrance, his expression dark—well, darker, considering his usual demeanor tended toward watchful and angry. He snarled, and I guessed he’d called my name more than once in the past few minutes. His shoulders sat in a hard line as he shifted his weight to one side, then disappeared around the doorway and into the forest below.
Jon raised his eyebrows as if to say, What now? I shook my head and followed Miller’s silent exodus.
Crisp snow crunched beneath my heavy steps. A frigid wind left winter’s late calling card. If Mari had traversed the forest a few weeks later than when she arrived in my arms, she would have died of exposure before I got her inside the house. Hell, thanks to unseasonal weather, that very nearly happened any damn way.
It annoyed the shit out of me that I still didn’t know how long she ran for, or how far. Regardless of the fact that she still wouldn’t tell me what I craved, I harbored my suspicions.
I found him in the shadows at the bottom of the cabin’s stairs.
“What’s up?”
“We have visitors.” Miller snapped off that short sentence like it had offended him, omitting sir at the end along with his customary sharp salute, though his fingers stiffened at his side as if the habit refused to be repressed.
Even four years after leaving military service together, he struggled to complete the transformation into his new version of normality.
I opened my mouth, on the verge of saying, “I’m not your commanding officer any longer,” but it didn’t matter. The words wouldn’t have any effect, leaving us at a silent impasse. We’d had this conversation time and again. Miller wouldn’t change his ways any more than I would. Perhaps that made us the perfect pair, coupled in a mountain-scenery version of purgatory, blocked away from everything we loved—and everyone.
Except for the three people back in the cabin.
Four, counting Mari, if I included her in the emotional sliding scale of our lives.
Miller insisted on holding to the tradition that had disowned us both, no matter what I said or how raucous the house became with every new member initiated into our patchwork family. It didn’t matter that I no longer deserved his loyalty or his respect for letting so many down when I couldn’t save them.
And yet he offered the balance of his life to my sad cause when he remained the one free man among a bunch of broken outlaws.
“Brandon? I know he’s organizing a local community gathering.” I shrugged when Miller glared at me. Now I know how Mari feels.
“Blackthorne’s here.”
I slipped my hands into my pockets and stared Miller down. “What does he want?”
He tilted his chin up. “He didn’t come alone.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
The corner of his lips twitched. “I’ll bet my cut on our next job that it has something to do with our guest.”
Of course it does.
I knew Miller didn’t approve of Mari’s presence in our home. He hated that she’d etched out a place there, stolen the hearts of men starved for something more than the meager existence we’d carved out of the mountain side. We could have been dwarves to her princess, but Mari wasn’t quite that sweet.
Other chores came before pleasure, either of the homely or carnal variety. If I pushed her out, I’d have more than Miller to deal with. Mari needed the respite from whatever reality had chased her in our direction, not a wheelbarrow load of randy men who were desperate for a sweet smile and soft lips.
And yet, she ran to me.
Into my arms.
I shook my head, shifting my focus to where it needed to be, not on the pretty head of curls inside my house.
Focus, Huntingdon.
“All right. Where is he?”
“Boundary line. Opposite that ugly fucking tower he calls home.”
I nodded. “I know the place.” Turning on my heel, I headed in my nemesis’s direction, already rehearsing what I would say when he asked about her.
Who else would he inquire about? Not the picket line one of my regulars organized at the edge of my property. Gideon Blackthorne’s Mari-shaped drawcard sat in his back pocket. I just needed to wait for him to incriminate himself during the next few minutes.
Other men, like our good friend Blackthorne, might play shadow games. But I ran cold, devoid of emotion at the reminder of the man who drove me from the city I once called home. One ruined veteran and a background of family politics made for a sensational news story on our return from the desert in the wake of too many scarred souls.
Knight just mine, and whoever followed me.
Miller scraped out of their little coup, a stroke of pure luck on our side. Maybe he came up as insignificant. Who knew why Petersen made the decisions he did. But that slice of luck favored us, leaving me with one man who could walk through the front doors of Knight he even might, but I didn’t think so. Not today. The man never made an appearance on my lands unless he deemed it necessary. Assuming I read the situation correctly, by taking Mari into my family, I had forced his hand.
Now I wanted to see how he played it out to the new threat I presented.
She contained all his scarred evidence, and I’d bet everything that he wanted her back. His previous experience was a kindness compared to the sort of torture Blackthorne would use as his personal trademark if I handed her over.
That wasn’t happening on my watch.
Even if I’d read him wrong, whatever Blackthorne wanted, killing me wouldn’t help him achieve his aims. My boys were well trained. If I died, they would disappear into the forest, and no amount of money or power would ever help him locate a single man—or Mari.
Until they were ready to take him down.
“I’m good.”
“Suit yourself.” Miller’s tone suggested he may as well have said, “Enjoy being slaughtered.”
I laughed under my breath and strode through the forest. The farther I walked from my house and the closer I came to Gideon, the thicker the trees became. We honored a tentative agreement not to cross each other’s boundaries, but the distinct lack of wildlife in an otherwise populated section of the woods suggested Blackthorne broke his end of the bargain on a regular basis.
Keeping my focus forward, I pretended I didn’t notice the sniper I walked below. As no bullet pierced my back—Blackthorne would never be so bold—I wondered how many men he would lose before our conversation ended. I counted six in the trees and three on the ground. If I missed any, Miller would find them.
The stocky little nugget from Georgia was a bloodthirsty bitch. Despite his compact frame, he could be as silent as Alan on his feet as he stalked his prey in his own playground. His favorite method of handling situations like this involved cutting throats in a literal sense. His broader skill sets included hiding bodies and removing all traces of their demise.
If Alan was a cold, psychotic little killer, Miller was our resident ninja.
We both saw bloody battles in the desert, fought back-to-back on more than one occasion, trusting the other man to hold his own. Thanks to Blackthorne, I also experienced a dagger in the back by my own people while he worked with the enemy enough times to learn a few extra tricks. Nor was I remiss in sharing that knowledge around.
Blackthorne waited at a point between two stones that, though they might look ancient, were put in place by Will during one of his initial scouting missions. Without being asked, he took on the responsibility of surveying and ensuring that the boundary lines between Blackthorne and Huntingdon lands were marked against any accidental incursion.
Anyone could call our “agreement” bullshit; we’d crossed that line on both sides more often than we’d met face-to-face in the past eight years. As an added bonus, Will had set up land mines on our side, just in case our nice neighbor changed his mind about our farce of a truce and crossed the boundary en masse.
I guessed he hadn’t counted on anyone coming across the treetops.
Another little trick in our tool kit.
And something to talk about when I debriefed the men after I returned.
If I returned.
Gideon Blackthorne came into full view as I stepped out of the trees. Something hit the ground with a muted thump behind me as I eyed the man dressed all in black like some superhero villain. Dark hair was slicked back off his angular face. Thin black eyebrows and sculpted lips etched a permanent sneer on what should, by some metric, have been a handsome face.
A leather jacket that no doubt cost the same as the supplies to build the entire cabin hung over broad shoulders that could carry the weight of a full unit of men and not flinch. I knew that from experience. My nemesis completed his tailored outfit with black jeans and highly polished black loafers.
He didn’t walk through the forest in those. Not with a shine like that on the tops.
I held his pale blue gaze. Something crackled in the underbrush at my back. That’s two. I held back a grin; I could tease Miller for being slow after the fact, though I knew his current body count was double that.
Gideon’s forces would be down by a handful of men before he turned tail and headed home.
“What do you want?” I worked against mounting tension in my spine to set my shoulders in a relaxed line. Letting my hands hang free of my clothing, I rested my weight over the balls of my feet, not looking like I wanted to launch myself at him but maintaining the option either way.
Unformed figures shifted in the woods behind my enemy. Three men equipped with semiautomatic pistols emerged from the forest and took up position at Blackthorne’s back.
Not taking the pistol was a mistake.
It wouldn’t help against those guns. I’d be dead before I raised my hand, riddled with a hundred bullet holes before I managed a double tap.
Gideon would be my land’s proud new owner.
“Oh, I wanted to have a friendly chat. Neighbor to neighbor. You know, with a man I once worked beside.” Resentment glimmered in his eyes as he gave me a derisive once-over.
I wasn’t sure what bee had shot up his bonnet, but he had no reason to be unsettled about the way we parted company last time we spoke—him with ten proverbial guns pointed at my head and me retaining the business. Pretty sure the man hadn’t changed a whit.
“Have you tried knocking?” I held his stare and smirked.
“We don’t have that sort of—” Gideon stepped forward, placing a single foot over the invisible boundary line. “—relationship. Besides, you’ve taken something that belongs to me.”
If that something didn’t happen to be Mari, I’d put his lack of empathy down to a rich-boy temper tantrum. A sense of guilt—and a loss of control—stiffened his neck. I could almost smell his fear, and that gave me a reason to bite.
I opened my mouth to object, but we both knew it would be an outright lie. “I’ve taken nothing that didn’t cross onto my land.”
“Semantics.” Gideon chuckled, an unpleasant and not-so-veiled threat. “I’m impressed, Huntingdon. You’re more of a politician than you think.”
My teeth clenched, pain shooting along my jaw. “I suggest you get off my land.”
Blackthorne threw his head back, the forest echoing with his laugh. “I bet you’ve been waiting to say that for years.” Soulless pale eyes the color of a wintery sky stared back at me.
It ached that I knew in my gut that he’d hurt Mari, that it was he who had touched her and enabled others to ruin her body and break her will.
She’s more resilient than you think.
He was right to be scared of her. If she spoke out, she would be a true threat to his comfortable, fucked-up lifestyle. But forcing her to say the words made me as bad as him. No, she needed to tell me in her own time. Coming out in public was the worst of ideas. Petersen would remove her from existence if she directly threatened his position as mayor, and his association with Blackthorne would do that if the truth of her assault was brought to light in the public arena. Hence the dual complication. Petersen would pull the trigger by proxy of one of his mercenary minions if Blackthorne didn’t first.
Fire boiled in my chest as my fingers flicked at my sides. Watching the man opposite me, I forced my hand to relax.
Gideon’s laugh died at whatever he read on my face. “The other day, I lost something important. I’d like it back.”
Fuck, I gave him too much. “Why?”
My shitty deflection offered a poor barrier. I should have prepared better . Even though I’d known he would ask about her, I hadn’t put thought into my defense of Mari, too distracted by the woman herself.
Gideon’s gaze narrowed. “We both know why.”
Yeah, but I want to hear you admit it.
“Return my property, Huntingdon.” Gideon stepped back, and the games were over.
But I haven’t been playing.
She was never yours.
The dual thoughts roused the constant rage that simmered low in my stomach as I glared at him. He could read into that look whatever the hell he wanted; it wouldn’t change the outcome of his spoiled-child tantrum.
Look at the Brit terms I’m picking up from Mari.
If she gave snarky me ammunition in that vein, she could stay as long as she wanted.
And for a few other reasons.
I nodded back in an easy motion. “Nothing here is yours.” Nor would it ever be. I gave him a smile as empty as his previous promise that he’d hold to the boundary line.
Liar, liar, black soul on fire.
Mari would have an entertaining little ditty to lighten the mood. Something cheery and inappropriate that would clench my chest and make me want to wrap her in my arms and never let go. I would have to remember to ask her later.
Ignoring Blackthorne’s demand, I turned my back and began to walk away in slow, measured paces, aware of the target I presented to any one of his paid protectors who harbored a trigger-happy finger.
“You can’t hide out here forever, Huntingdon.”
I swiveled where I stood, my teeth bared in a harsh grin that silenced him in swift order. Releasing my breath in measured exhales, I took a step forward into his space. Three muted pops halted me on the spot. I looked over his shoulder in time to see his three shadows fall.
Offering him a bland grin, I gave Blackthorne a little wave, turned, and disappeared back into the forest. The music of his cursing followed me as I wished him the best of luck keeping those shoes of his clean on his four-mile walk across the ridge back to his fancy cement compound.
I found Miller in the deepest part of the forest between Blackthorne and the house, leaning against a tree trunk as wide as his barrel chest and dismembering a pine needle piece by piece.
“Good job. Leave any out?” Not that he would. The man was as pedantic in his body count as a hooker working Cypress Avenue on a Friday night. Still, I made the attempt to lighten the tense atmosphere that surrounded him. After all, the man had killed for me.
“He made it too easy.” Miller’s brown gaze clashed with mine, darkness roiling there. The pine needle fell to the forest floor as he glared at me.
I nodded, his silent message received: “I don’t trust him.”
Neither did I, but I doubted Blackthorne would offer men as bait just to test our capacity. Another thing we knew too much about each other. He’d seen Miller and me fight in close quarters before.
“Good job. I’m grateful. Clean up.” I set my jaw and picked up my pace. “I’ll meet you at the house.”
He nodded and disappeared back into the woods. There wouldn’t be a trace of Gideon’s men left by the time he finished.
I mulled over Blackthorne’s words as I retraced my steps, careful to use the same path and footfalls as before. The fewer tracks we made, the better—even on our side of the boundary. There would be no further incursions tonight.
Gideon’s resources weren’t endless, and he’d lost as many men as he’d brought out for intimidation and protection today. That had to be hard on the wallet at some point, though he would offer better wages to the next load of gung-ho recruits keen to earn their stripes in whatever way they could.
No, I wasn’t worried about him crossing into our territory again for a while.
As always, Will emerged in the evening and erased all remaining traces of Miller’s and my passing, leaving the woods looking like none of us existed at all.
Hell, the kid was so good, I wanted to clean his record and get him inside my business the way I’d corralled him by the edges of the property. That invisible line set a hard fixture for us all.
Our boundary line is bullshit.
I maintained my stride while I argued with myself, and after a few moments, I realized I had company. A sideways glance without turning my head showed a lithe, fur-coated body of a gold-and-white wildcat keeping pace by my side. The lynx slinked along, neither crossing my path nor threatening it. Just beyond the boundaries of the house yard, I paused, turning to face my little stalker.
Yellow eyes blinked at me across the void. A glimpse of sharp teeth and bunched muscle left me tense, though not in the same way as with Blackthorne. No, he was a true threat. This cat wanted to let his presence be known. I held the creature’s stare for a long moment, one forest dweller to another.
The wildcat watched me with a sense of serenity. After a time, he presented his back to me with a flick of a spotted tail and wandered off between the thick trunks that swallowed him into their deepening shadows.
Watching the darkness for a moment longer yielded nothing but the ruin of my night vision. When no other threats emerged, I headed back to the house and hoped to whichever god listened that my boys remained safe.
Mari too.