Chapter 15 Jake
JAKE
The ranch house is dark when I pull up, but the lights in the barn are blazing.
Some might think Mason and Luke are working, but I know they’re waiting up for me.
Good. I need to talk to them.
I kill the engine and sit in Turner’s truck for a moment. Hands steady on the wheel, I control my breathing until it’s calm. Things didn’t go according to plan tonight, but I’m not sorry, not if it means I get Emma back. We’ll handle the rest.
I climb out of the vehicle. The night air is cold and clean, carrying the scent of pine and hay. I bow my head to my jacket, smelling Emma’s perfume on me.
I’ve never been so tempted to abandon a mission. It’s only because I need to make sure Emma’s protected that I stay on course and don’t go back to climb through her bedroom window like I used to.
Somewhere in the distance, a coyote cries. The sound grounds me and pulls me back into the present.
I cross the yard toward the barn, my boots slurping in the mud giving away my position.
I’m still getting used to Blackthorn Ranch. It’s hard to believe it’s our home now, ten thousand acres of Montana wilderness that we closed on a week ago. It used to be a cattle ranch. Now it’s home to three retired special forces operatives with no clue how to live in normal society.
What the fuck are we going to do here?
Our dog runs out—well, Shadow is as much our dog as a stray we found a week ago can be—and checks the yard, prepared to attack. When he sees it’s me, he slinks back to his bed in the stables.
Both leaves of the Dutch door are open, spilling warm light into the darkness. I can hear the low murmur of voices inside—Mason and Luke.
They look up when I walk in.
Luke leans against an empty stall, arms crossed, his light eyes assessing despite his snarky grin.
He's built like an athlete—six-three, two twenty, all lean muscle and controlled violence. Our team’s former combat medic and demolitions expert, Riot is the kind of man who’ll blow it all up and then patch it together—if it suits him.
His golden California good looks and reckless charm fool a lot of people.
Sitting on a hay bale cleaning his sniper rifle with methodical precision, Mason is no less gaging.
He’s leaner than Luke, darker, and just as deadly.
He grew up in a town like Iron Ridge near Santa Fe, but he doesn’t talk about it much.
He doesn’t talk much at all. Most people underestimate him because he speaks so little, but to underestimate Ace is the sort of error you only make once.
He can put a bullet through your eye from two thousand yards out and not lose a second of sleep over it.
They're my brothers—not by blood, but by choice. By fire. By lifetimes of watching each other's backs in places most people can't even pronounce.
And they know me well enough to read my face.
“Problem?” Mason asks, checking his scope.
I nod. "One."
Mason lowers the rifle, his dark eyes locked on mine. “What kind?”
"Witness."
The word drops in the barn like a grenade.
Mason's jaw tightens. "Fuck. Who?"
"Emma."
“Emma?” Luke's eyebrows rise. "Emma Hayes?”
I don’t answer. I don’t have to. They both know, as far as I’m concerned, there’s only one Emma. They know she’s the reason we’re here in Iron Ridge.
"Shit." Mason leans forward. "How much did she see?"
"Enough."
"Jesus Christ, Warden." Luke shifts against the rough wood at his back. To anyone who doesn’t know him, he’d look relaxed. "So where’s the package?"
“Out front. In his truck.”
"And she saw you neutralize Turner," Mason says. It's not a question.
"She saw enough." I stand at attention in front of the doorframe, keeping my voice level. I’m worried about Emma and shock setting in, not because of what she might do but because of how it might affect how she feels about me.
She still cares. She asked me to stay.
I don’t want that to change.
"So what'd you do?" Luke asks, interrupting my thoughts. "Please tell me you—"
"I didn't do shit." My voice comes out sharper than I intend. "She's not a threat."
"She's a fucking witness," Luke points out. "That makes her a threat by definition."
I rub a hand over my neck. "She's not going to talk."
Luke shakes his head. "Is that what your crystal ball tells you?"
"No, she told me." I hold his gaze. "She told me she was relieved Turner was eliminated."
Luke's eyes narrow. "She said that?"
"Word for word."
Mason and Luke exchange a look—the kind of silent communication that comes from years of operating together.
"You believe her?" Mason asks.
"Yeah. I do."
"Because you trust her?" Luke flashes a knowing grin. "Or because you want to fuck her?"
"Both," I say honestly, and damn if my cock doesn’t harden again just thinking about it. I didn’t let myself go there while I was cleaning the scene and making sure Emma was secured, but now that it’s done—now that I’ve held her against my body—I can’t help thinking about stripping her down and relearning every inch of her.
Will she still get wet the second I slide my hand between her thighs?
I want to hear her scream my name while I'm buried inside her.
I want to make her come so many times she forgets her own name.
And yeah, I trust her. Because she looked me in the eye tonight with Turner's blood on the ground between us and still told me she has my back. I rub a hand over my neck, frustrated and horny and uncharacteristically impatient.
“Jesus.” Luke stares at me for a long moment. "I knew you were obsessed with her, but you’re really fucking obsessed."
"I'm not—"
"You are." Mason sets his rifle down on his lap. "Of course you are. You've been thinking about her for all these years.”
Luke holds up his hand. “We get it, and we’ve got your back, like we always have. Like you have ours. Hell, we bought this fucking ranch and came here with you. But that’s not the point."
Mason nods, his hands resting loose on his weapon. “The point is you're not thinking clearly. You're thinking with your dick and your heart, and that's dangerous."
"I'm in control." If there’s one thing I have in spades, it’s control, evidenced by the fact that I walked away from Emma tonight.
"Are you?" Luke steps closer. "Because from where I'm standing, you just made yourself vulnerable to a woman you haven't seen in almost two decades. A woman who could destroy you with one phone call."
"She won't." I remember what she said about needing to talk, how she’d wanted me to stay, and I’m more sure by the minute. “Positive, in fact.”
Mason's eyes are hard. "And you're willing to bet everything on that? Your freedom? This ranch?"
"Yes."
The word comes out flat, final.
Because it's true. I'd bet everything on Emma Hayes. I'd burn this whole fucking town down if it meant keeping her safe. I'd kill a hundred men like Turner if they so much as looked at her wrong. I'd go to prison, I'd die, I'd do whatever it takes—because Emma is everything.
Luke stares at me for a long moment, then shrugs. "Okay. Now we know where we stand. You’re still fucking crazy for her."
I’ve been crazy for her since the first time I saw her in high school. She’s why I got a job working as a ranch hand for her father.
"Doesn't mean she won't crack," Mason says. "Doesn't mean she won't wake up tomorrow and realize what she saw and decide to do the right thing."
I shake my head. "She won't. I know her."
"You know her?” Luke’s lips twist with skepticism. “You haven't been back in this town for more than seven days, and you haven’t spoken to her at all until tonight. How the fuck do you know her?"
Because I looked into her eyes. Because I touched her. Because I held her in my arms and inhaled her, just for a moment.
The silence stretches.
Luke's watching me with those pale, assessing eyes. “I know she’s the reason we’re here. But we need to be smart about this.”
“I’m going to admit that I may need help with that.
” Christ, that's the understatement of the fucking century. Tonight is proof of that—I don’t need them to point that out to me.
Because I flubbed the plan and left loose ends that I hope won’t bite us in the ass.
“I didn’t have time to take care of the package. ”
Luke sighs. “Anything else you need to tell us?”
“That’s it.”
“Turner didn’t say what he wanted with her land?” Mason asks.
“No,” I admit. “And neither did Emma.”
“Does she suspect anything about her father’s ‘accident’?” Luke makes air quotes around the word.
I shake my head. “No evidence to that.”
Mason nods. “His brother gonna be a problem?”
“Maybe.” I flex my fingers.
He nods again, propping his rifle against his shoulder. “We’ll be ready.”
“Fuck yeah, we will.” Luke pushes off the stall, clapping his hand on my shoulder as he passes. "I guess I’m up then. Don’t worry, brother. Not even the coyotes will find Turner once I’m done."
“Sure you don’t want help?” Mason asks.
Luke waves over his shoulder. “I got it.”
I relax. Our word is our bond, and I’m relieved as fuck that Luke and Mason are with me. Because they’re right—I’m not as clearheaded as I normally am.
I am obsessed with her. I have been all these years. I want her so bad it's a physical ache. I’m surprised my hands aren’t shaking.
I want to strip her down and taste every inch of her. Want to make her come on my tongue, my fingers, my cock. Want to fuck her until she's boneless and satisfied and completely mine.
And now that I have her back in my life, now that she's seen what I'm capable of and she's still standing with me, now that I've kissed her again—
She's everything to me. In every conceivable way. Completely and irrevocably mine.
I will make sure she knows it. I need to show her exactly how much she means to me—and make sure she'll never even think about leaving.
That's the most dangerous thing of all. Not the crime. Not the cover-up. Not the risk of getting caught.
The fact that I'd do it again.
The fact that I'd do worse.
The fact that there's no line I wouldn't cross for Emma Hayes.
And Mason and Luke know it.