37. Cole
COLE
My casual smile turns into a scowl, my teeth gritted, the second I walk out of the bedroom, my mind a mess, warring with the racing, unsteady thrum of my heart as panic twines around my chest.
Once I’m outside, I hurry down the porch steps and make a beeline for the barn, scanning the yard as I go, searching for something, anything, I don’t even fuckin know what.
I tug my phone from my pocket and scroll through my contacts, sliding the call button, despite the time. He’ll be up. He’s always fuckin’ awake.
“Yeah?” Austin’s gruff voice cuts through the silence, answering after a few rings.
“Remember how you told me to come to you if there’s a problem?”
I heave open the heavy barn door with one hand, my gaze landing on Dolly sitting here all alone in the dark.
Austin grunts in response.
Glancing back over my shoulder, I look at the house, doing another cursory scan across the yard, heart still hammering hard. “Yeah, well”—I drag a hand over my face—“I got a big fuckin’ problem, Boss.”
The Butcher ain’t a man to mess with. Everyone knows that.
But we’re already neck-deep in his bullshit thanks to Austin, so it felt like a no-brainer when I asked for his help originally with Clara.
He and his team know everything that goes on in the state of Texas and not much gets passed them.
Now, in the cold room, at the back of the slaughterhouse, surrounded by hanging beef carcasses and the scent of ammonia lingering in the air, I look at the men seated around the metal table—Austin, Butch, Butch’s right-hand man, Silvio, Cruz, and Webber—desperate for their help.
“So, let me get this straight,” Austin begins, dropping his head to hang between his shoulders. A few seconds pass and he lifts his chin, spearing me with that what the fuck Cole look he’s mastered over the last ten years. “She took her kids and ran away from… West Virginia?”
I nod.
“Her ex is a member of one of the most notorious fuckin’ outlaw motorcycle gangs in the country?”
I nod again, shifting in my chair.
“Some… creep left flowers on her windshield outside Meow’s but she thought it was you?”
“Not just flowers,” I argue. “Redbuds.”
Austin blinks at me like I done lost my damn mind.
“Maybe just some… admirer,” Cruz says with a casual shrug of his shoulders.
I spear him with daggers. “A fuckin’ admirer?”
He holds his hands up in defense, shrugging once.
“We were talkin’ about the redbuds the other night in the yard,” I continue. “And Billie, the little girl, was sayin’ how she and her mama love ’em. And the next damn night some assholes leaves a sprig of them on her windshield?” I snort incredulously. “That ain’t no fuckin’ coincidence.”
Austin nods slowly, rubbing his bearded chin with a look of contemplation in his eyes.
“And Rick said it looked like she had a faulty valve stem and that’s why her tire blew,” I tell them, looking at everyone around the table.
“But she drove on those same damn tires all the way from West fuckin’ Virginia.
Why would it only just blow now?” I throw my hands in the air.
“What if someone went into the yard the night before and fucked with ’em. ”
Cruz scoffs, shaking his head. “Why would the father of her kids—”
“Kid,” I correct sternly. “He’s only Billie’s daddy.”
“Why would the father of one of her kids wanna risk hurtin’ ’em?” Cruz asks.
“I don’t know,” I bite back because frankly he’s startin’ to piss me off. “Maybe because he’s a fuckin’ psychopath who almost raped Clara in front of his kid.”
A tense silence settles around the metal table, and I push back on my chair, the adrenaline coursing through me making it unbearable to sit still any longer. I pace the length of the room, racking my brain as I stare down at the wet, concrete floor.
“I’ve got my best guys on it, Cole,” Butch says. “If that asshole even so much as considered stepping foot inside the state of Texas, I’ll be the first to know about it.”
“Maybe it’s not him,” Webber says after a moment.
I stop, about ready to give the old man a piece of my mind but then he holds a hand up placating me before I can let loose on him. “Maybe it’s someone he knows, someone he’s payin’ to do his dirty work for him.”
“How does he even know she’s here?” I almost shout, angry and incredulous. “She came here with nothin’. No credit cards. No cell phone to track. Fake fuckin’ plates on her car.”
“You check the car for a tracker?” Webber asks, arching a bushy brow.
I stop then, tugging on the back of my neck before falling back into my chair and slumping with the weight of defeat because what the fuck. I’m a goddamn amateur. “No.”
“Okay,” Austin says, slapping his big hand against the table and commanding the attention of the room in the way that he does so effortlessly. “This is what we’re gonna do…”
I don’t waste any time and head straight back to my place after leaving the slaughterhouse.
We agreed not to tell Clara anything yet.
We don’t know what’s really going on, if Cain is even in town, so Austin came up with a plan.
Thankfully the kids are at school, which allows me the chance to create some urgency without scaring them.
“Hey,” Clara says with a smile that could light up the darkest night, walking out of the house after I hop out of my truck. “What are you doing back here?”
My palms are sweaty and I wipe them on the back of my jeans, unable to meet her eyes as I approach. Fuck. My gut roils with the need to throw up at the thought of lying to her.
“We just got word back at the ranch from the almanac,” I say, thumbing back in the direction of west where Rattlesnake is. “They’re predicting some pretty bad storm cells over the next few days. Maybe even a few twisters.”
Clara’s smile immediately falls. “T-twisters?” Her eyes widen. “You mean, like, tornados?”
I nod, tugging on the back of my neck.
“Oh my god…” She places a hand over her chest, looking around like at any moment a tornado’s about to drop out of the clear blue sky.
“This old place ain’t gonna hold up,” I say as casually as I can. “I been meanin’ to get the roof fixed, but—”
“What are you saying?” Clara rears back. “We’re not… safe here?”
No, you ain’t baby… I shake my head, swallowing around the lump of guilt wedged in the back of my throat. “Not if we get hit like they think we might…”
“Where are we gonna go?”
Fuck, when it looks like she’s on the verge of tears, I snap my ass into gear, climbing the porch steps and wrapping my arms around her, holding her tight and silently cursing myself for just how hard and fast she’s breathing.
“Hey, it’s okay.” I rub my hand over her back, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “We got time.”
Lifting her chin, Clara meets my eyes. “We don’t have anywhere else to go, Cole.”
I swear, I feel my heart crack. “Baby, it’s okay. Austin said y’all can stay on the ranch.”
“The ranch?” she balks, looking none too convinced.
I sniff a laugh, biting back my smirk. “I mean, you’re hardly gonna be bunkin’ in with the cowboys, darlin’.
” When I feel some of the tension slip from her body, I continue.
“The old farrier’s cabin’s been empty for years.
And hell, even it’s better than this ol’ dump.
” I offer a wry smile, trying to lighten the mood.
“It’s… safe?”
I nod because honestly, the ranch is the safest fuckin’ place in Summer. “It’s safe… there’s a storm shelter not a hundred yards away.”
Clara’s perfect lips twist to the side in contemplation. “And Austin doesn’t mind?”
I shake my head. “He said y’all can stay there for as long as you want. Hell, Mama Joy’s there right now, gettin’ it all spick ’n span.”
“I don’t wanna cause any trouble,” Clara says.
“C’mon now.” I stop her, pressing my finger against those pretty lips. “What’d I tell you?”
She looks rueful for a moment. “Accept the help.”
“’Atta girl.” I grin, leaning in to press my lips to hers in a slow, soft kiss, feeling her anxiousness melt away.