Chapter 13 Calder #2
“You heard me. You talk about survival, about doing what’s necessary. But you won’t even admit the truth to yourself.” She stands, faces me square. “You didn’t just take me to save me. You took me because you wanted to. And now you don’t know what to do with me.”
“Watch yourself,” I say quietly. “You’re forgetting who you’re talking to.”
“No. You’re wrong. I’m finally remembering.” She moves closer, close enough I can smell the soap on her skin. “You’re not Roman. You’re not your brothers. You’re just a man who’s been playing a part for so long he forgot who he really is underneath.”
“And who’s that?”
“I don’t know yet, but I’m going to find out.”
Before I can respond, before I can process the challenge in her voice, she turns and starts walking back along the fence line. Not toward the cabin.
Just walking, like she needs the distance.
I let her go. Watch her move through the snow-dotted grass, the borrowed jacket catching in the wind. Above us, a hawk circles, lazy spirals riding thermals.
She stops about fifty yards away, crouches down near another cluster of weeds. From this distance, she could be anyone. A hiker. A ranch hand. Just a woman enjoying a winter day in the high country.
Not a prisoner. Not my wife. Not the woman I was supposed to kill to protect my family.
I give her the space she needs and move to the next damaged section of the fence. All I can hear are her words echoing in my ears. Coward.
Maybe she’s right. Perhaps I am afraid. Not of Roman, not of consequences, but of what happens if I stop lying to myself about why I really kept her alive.
I’m hammering in the last staple when I hear her cry out.
My head snaps up, and I’m moving before conscious thought, crossing the distance in seconds. “What happened?”
“I was just…” Her voice shakes. “I-I saw a wolf.”
I tug her back over to sit on my toolbox. “Just stay here. Don’t worry, they won’t come over here.”
“Thank you,” she whispers. “I wasn’t scared, just startled.”
I look up and find her watching me with an expression I can’t read. Not gratitude exactly. Something more complicated. Something that makes my chest feel too tight.
“What?”
“Thank you for bringing me out here. For not leaving me in that cabin to go crazy.” She glances around at the mountains, the valley, the endless sky. “I needed this. Needed to remember there’s more than just four walls.”
The honesty disarms me. “The land helps,” I say finally. “When everything else is shit, the land is still here. Still real.”
“Is that why you come here? To remember what’s real?”
“Something like that. We should head back. We’ve done enough work today.”
She nods and climbs to her feet. We gather the tools in silence and start the walk back to the cabin. But something’s shifted between us. Some small crack in the foundation of captor and captive, Bishop and James, monster and victim.
I tell myself it doesn’t matter. Come the rodeo, everything changes anyway. We’ll go to town, face Roman, and whatever this is, this strange understanding growing between us, will either strengthen or shatter completely.
We’re halfway back to the cabin when I hear the engine. Distant at first, then growing louder, unmistakable on the narrow access road that only members of my family know about.
My hand goes to the gun at my hip, body shifting into a defensive stance. “Get behind me,” I tell Saint.
“What? Why… ?”
“Just do it.”
She obeys without argument, and I position myself between her and the road, watching as Kade’s black truck appears through the pines, kicking up dust, moving too fast for the conditions.
He parks next to the road, kills the engine, and climbs out with that loose-limbed grace that makes him lethal in close quarters. His eyes find me first, then slide past to where Saint is half hidden behind my shoulder.
“Didn’t know you were coming,” I say, keeping my tone neutral.
“Didn’t know I needed permission to visit my own family’s property.” He leans against his truck and pulls out a cigarette, then lights it. “Thought I’d check on you. Make sure you’re still thinking straight.”
“The plan hasn’t changed. We go public at the rodeo. Roman finds out with everyone else.”
“Yeah, about that.” Kade’s gaze slides back to Saint, assessing. “Levi’s been dropping hints around town like you asked. Starting to build the narrative. But Roman’s not stupid, Calder. He’s going to have questions when you suddenly show up with a wife he never approved.”
“That’s why we’re doing it publicly. Make it a done deal before he can object.”
“Is it?” Kade’s eyes narrow. “Because from where I’m standing, this whole situation looks fucked.”
The words hang in the air like a noose. Behind me, Saint goes rigid.
“Careful,” I say quietly.
“Why? She already knows what you are. What we all are.” He flicks ash onto the ground. “Or are you playing pretend up here? Acting like you’re something other than Roman’s attack dog?”
“Watch your mouth.”
“Or what? You’ll shoot me too?” But there’s no real heat in his voice. Just calculation. Kade’s always been the smartest of us, the one who sees patterns where the rest of us see chaos. “I ran into Allie Porter yesterday. In town.”
Every muscle in my body goes taut. “And?”
“And she’s asking questions.”
“Allie’s always been suspicious.”
“Yeah, but now she’s organized. Got Emma Porter backing her. They’re planning something.” His gaze flicks to Saint again. “Your wife might want to reach out. Let her best friend know she’s alive and chose this. Before Emma decides to make it a Porter problem.”
The suggestion’s reasonable. Smart, even. It also means giving Saint access to the outside world, to people who might convince her to run.
“I’ll think about it,” I say, which means no.
Kade reads the refusal in my voice. His expression hardens. “This is what I’m talking about. You’re making decisions with your dick instead of your head.”
“I’m being strategic.”
“No. Strategic would be putting a bullet in her brain and leaving her body for the wolves to scavenge.” He pushes off the truck and moves closer.
Close enough that I can smell the tobacco on his breath.
“I agreed to help with this because you’re my brother.
But whatever you think you’re building with her, it’s going to blow up in your face. You know that, right?”
“Maybe.”
“Not maybe. Definitely.” His voice drops. “Roman’s already suspicious about why your presence has been scarce. When he finds out the truth, he’s not going to buy the obsession story. Not completely. He’s going to wonder if you’re getting soft. If you’re a liability.”
The accuracy of the assessment stings. Kade’s right. This is a gamble. A desperate play that could go wrong in a dozen different ways.
“Then I’ll have to sell it well,” I say.
“Will you?” Kade studies my face. “Because I’m here, looking at you right now, and I’m already seeing cracks.”
“I can handle it.”
“I hope so. Sheriff is calling it a runaway situation, but Emma’s pushing for a real investigation. She’s got lawyers now. Money. Influence. And apparently, a cousin in the FBI who’s been seen around town.” He meets my eyes. “Just make this shit convincing.”
He climbs back into his truck, and the engine roars to life. The tires spit gravel as he swings around and heads back down the mountain. The sound fades slowly, swallowed by distance and pine forest until there’s nothing left but wind and the rapid hammer of my pulse.
I turn to find Saint staring at me, her face pale.
“Allie’s looking for me,” she whispers.
“Yeah.”
“I should call her. Let her know I’m okay.”
“No.”
“Calder.”
“I said no.” I start walking toward the cabin. “Kade’s right about one thing. If Emma Porter gets involved, this becomes complicated. We can’t risk it.”
She follows, practically running to keep up. “Risk what? Me talking to my best friend?”
“Risk you saying something that contradicts the story. Risk Emma reading between the lines. Risk everything I’ve done to keep you alive.”
When we reach the cabin, I open the door and wait for her to enter first. She doesn’t move.
“So I’m supposed to just let Allie think I abandoned her? Let her worry and search and…”
“Yes. Saint.” I meet her eyes. “That’s exactly what you’re going to do, because your best friend caring about you doesn’t trump you staying alive.”
“This isn’t living.”
“It’s better than dying.”
Something shifts in her expression, from anger to something colder, more calculating.
“You’re afraid,” she says softly. “Not of Roman. Not of Emma Porter. You’re afraid of what happens when I’m reminded there’s a world outside this cabin. Outside you.”
The accuracy stings. “Get inside.”
“Make me.”
Fucking fine. If she wants me to be the monster, then I’ll be the monster. I stalk toward her, grab her up, and toss her over my shoulder. She kicks her legs out once, but I slap her ass hard enough to make her squawk and march into the cabin.
I close the door and turn the lock into place.
Inside the cabin, I toss Saint on the bed and turn away, needing a little distance before I do something drastic like kiss her until she’s boneless and the fight has left her.
“What if the rodeo doesn’t go as planned? What if your father doesn’t believe us?”
Her questions make me anxious, even more since I know there’s a chance this entire thing could blow up in my face. I’ll have to accept part of the fallout since I lied to my father, and there will be punishment for that, but Saint should be safe.
“There won’t be any reason for him not to believe us. You play your part, and I play mine, and everyone walks away with their limbs attached.”
“I don’t like lying. Pretending. It feels wrong.”
“That’s only because you’ve been raised to believe that lying is a sin. This is deeper than that. Bigger than that. It’s life and death. There’s no room for moral obligation.”
“I still don’t like it.”
“Me either, but it has to be done. Now stop fucking questioning it.”
Her shoulders go rigid, and she huffs. “Why are you pissed off at me now?”
I stalk back and get into her face, then haul her up to stare down into her wide eyes. “Because I’m trying to keep you alive, and it feels like all you have is a death wish.”
She opens her mouth to respond, but I cup the back of her head, clench my fist in her hair, and pull her mouth to mine.
She can’t fucking argue with my tongue down her throat.
She jolts and then melts into my grasp, molding to my chest, and the sound that whispers out of her shoots straight to my dick.
I don’t kiss her gently.
There’s nothing soft about this. My mouth claims hers with bruising force, teeth scraping her bottom lip until she gasps. I use that opening to deepen the kiss, my tongue sliding against hers, tasting the defiance she was about to throw at me.
Her hands fist in my shirt, pulling me closer even as her body trembles.
The contradiction drives me insane. She fights me with words but surrenders with her body, and I can’t get enough of it.
I walk her backward until her spine hits the wall.
The impact forces another gasp from her throat, and I swallow the sound.
My hand stays tangled in her honey-blond hair, controlling the angle of her head, keeping her exactly where I want her.
My other hand grips her hip hard enough to bruise, pinning her between the wall and my body.
She’s so small against me. Delicate. Breakable.
The thought makes something dark and possessive twist in my gut.
Mine. This reckless, stubborn woman who doesn’t know when to quit is mine.
Her tongue slides against mine, tentative at first, then bolder.
Learning. Matching my aggression with something that feels like surrender but tastes like want.
I tear my mouth from hers, trailing rough kisses down her jaw to her throat. Her pulse hammers beneath my lips. Fast. Wild. I bite down on the sensitive skin there, not hard enough to break skin but enough to mark, and she whimpers.
“You drive me out of my fucking mind,” I growl against her neck, my breath hot on her flushed skin. “Every stupid risk you take. Every time you push back when you should just fucking give in.”
“Maybe I don’t want to just give in.” Her voice comes out breathless, shaky. “What if you have to work for it?”
I pull back to look at her. Her lips are swollen from my mouth, her eyes dark and hazy. Her chest rises and falls rapidly, breasts pressing against my chest with each breath. She looks thoroughly kissed. Thoroughly claimed.
And she’s staring at me like I’m not the monster who kidnapped her.
Like I’m worth wanting, and being the man who married her.
It makes me want to kiss her again. Makes me want to throw her on the bed and show her exactly how dangerous I am.
Makes me want to keep her so completely that she forgets there was ever a life before this.
Instead, I force myself to step back, putting distance between us. She’s not ready for the things I want to do to her. My hands shake with the effort of letting her go.
“Stop being difficult,” I demand. “Stop pushing my buttons. Stop questioning every single thing. Just… fuck, just listen to me. Please.”
She touches her lips, her fingers trembling.
I’m in over my head here, so I need to step outside to put some distance between us so I don’t risk losing control. Right now, I want Saint so badly my body burns with the need, and I can’t be gentle. Can’t be what she needs right now.