Chapter Eighteen
Mags
“As if today couldn’t get any fuckin’ worse,” Lawson drawled, a toothpick hanging from his lips as he leaned over my porch railing, his eyes on the sleek Volvo pulling up and parking behind Diana’s Mercedes. “Got a fuckin’ suit showing up after a badge.” His eyes cut over to where Bowen stood at the base of the porch steps, dressed in boots, dark jeans, and his uniform shirt, his badge and gun strapped to his hip.
Things between Hallow Ranch and the Sheriff were still tense after Abbie’s shit went down. Chase withheld critical information from us and led to Abbie getting kidnapped.
The driver’s side door opened, and a young man, around the twins’ age, stepped out. He closed the door, coming directly over to us, his dark rimmed glasses aimed in my direction. He was dressed in a light blue button up and gray suit pants. He looked like a young Clark Kent. He paid no attention to us cowboys and addressed the Sheriff.
“Where is she?” he demanded, his voice tight.
Chase jerked his chin toward where I leaned against the frame of my front door, making sure no man entered my home while the wives took care of my firefly. “Inside, getting cleaned up,” the Sheriff answered.
The man’s jaw tightened and my stomach twisted, wondering who the hell this man was to Diana.
“Who the hell are you?” Lance asked, rising from one of my rocking chairs, his face guarded.
The suit’s eyes shot up, glaring at the cowboy. “Thomas.”
Just then, Kings rounded the side of the house, pulling his cell away from his face. He tipped his hat to the man. “Thomas,” he greeted, knowing exactly who this man was.
My gut twisted, reminding me, once again, there were so many things about Diana’s world I didn’t know—things I didn’t deserved to know. And fuck me, I still wanted to.
“Denver,” Thomas said, sounding relieved and walking over to shake my boss’ hand. “What happened?”
“Don’t know all the details yet,” Kings replied, shooting a look over to me. I bit down, grinding my teeth as Lawson moved closer to me, his body on alert at this stranger’s presence. “Once Diana is settled, I’m sure we’ll find out,” Kings assured.
“Does she need to go to the hospital?”
“No,” I answered gruffly, pushing off the frame and walking to the top of the porch steps. “She stays here.”
Thomas looked me up and down, his brow pinched together in curiosity. “You’re Mags.”
I stiffened, keeping my face unreadable. “You know me?” I prompted.
The man looked offended. “I know everyone on Hallow Ranch,” he said, jerking his thumb to Kings. “Ranch owner.” He gestured to the twins, who were now on either side of me. “Tweedledee and Tweedle Dumb, Lawson and Lance.” He twisted his torso, pointing to the cowboys coming to the cabin on horseback on the other side of the field. “Mason, Denver’s bother, and Beau.”
“Lance,” Lawson gritted.
“Yup,” he said, popping the “p” as they glared down at Thomas, anger radiating from both of them.
I was too worried about my firefly to care about their feelings, but this distraction could be somewhat entertaining.
“You think those glasses would look good on me?” Lawson asked, taking a single step down, his brother following.
Lance clicked his tongue. “Nah, they should burn with him.”
I said nothing, watching Kings lip curl. “Chill out,” he warned the twins. Thomas looked at Kings and then back to the twins, his eyes filled with panic behind his lenses.
“Nah, Den,” Lawson drawled, pointing at Thomas with his toothpick as he kept his eyes on our boss. “It’s one thing taking bullshit from a cop.”
Chase stepped forward, his eyes hard. They flicked to me for just a moment, flashing with something I couldn’t recognize, before focusing back on the twins.
“It’s something else entirely when we have to take shit from a fuckin’ suit ,” Lance spat, finishing his brother’s thought.
“Boys…,” Chase warned.
Behind everyone, Beau and Mason were still approaching, the familiar sound of hooves drumming against the soil filling my ears.
Lance cocked his head at the Sheriff. “If you think we’re going to give you even an ounce of respect after the shit you pulled, Bowen, you’re even a bigger dumbass than I had you pegged for.”
Mason and Beau eased both of their horses to a stop as they joined us, their faces guarded underneath their cowboy hats.
“What’s going on?” Mason asked.
Beau paid attention to no one but Chase, the ice in his blue eyes visible underneath the shadow of his hat. His clean-shaven jaw was tight, the muscle jumping as he turned Spirit to face the Sheriff. “The fuck are you going here?” he clipped.
Chase turned his head, glaring at Beau. “I’m here for my fucking friend, Marks. Fuck off.”
“Awe, how nice of you to give a damn about Diana, but not Abbie. Right?”
Fuck.
I shot a look to Kings.
We needed to shut this shit down. Beau would kill Chase if given the chance, and while I didn’t blame the man, I couldn’t let it happen. Chase, despite his past mistakes, was a good man. He also meant something to Diana which meant I had to give a damn about him. “Beau,” I clipped. His eyes sliced over to me. “Cool it.”
Thomas looked over his shoulder and then back to the twins, his skin pale now. “I came here for my boss,” he stammered. “No one else.”
I blinked. Wait—Diana was his boss?
Lance began spouting off again. “I don’t give a shit. You don’t come on this ranch insult the cowboys who run it—”
Beau pulled out his gun, loading a bullet in the chamber. “What did I tell you, Bowen? I told you I would kill you if I ever saw you again.”
“You wanna play that game with me, Marks?” Chase clipped, his hand on his own gun.
Mason leaned forward on his saddle, his forearms resting on the horn as he chewed his gum. Clearly, he was entertained.
“Maybe we need to get that fire started, brother,” Lawson suggested darkly, looking at his twin. “Have ourselves a little bonfire tonight.”
Lance took a step down. “That sounds like a swell idea”
“A suit and a cop,” Lawson growled. “Tweedledee and Tweedle Dumb.”
Beau started to raise his gun at Chase, a murderous snarl on his face.
“Enough.”
One word.
One word, and all eyes were on me.
Mason smirked.
Fuckin’ bastard.
The door opened and a second later, Harmony was beside me. All the men stared up at her as she shook her head. “What the hell is wrong with you all?” she rasped. “A woman we all care about is in pain, and you’re all out here like stupid damn men arguing about the past, licking your fragile egos.”
I looked down at her, wanting nothing more than to kick all of them out so I could take care of Diana myself.
My sanity was at the edge of the cliff, and if this fuckin’ bullshit continued, I would jump.
“Little Song,” her husband began.
She pointed at him. “And you are just sitting on top of that horse, letting it happen, Mase,” she accused, disappointment laced in her voice.
He shut his mouth, staring at her. The twins, who now faced us, looked up at her with regret. Lance was the first one to speak. “We were—”
“The last time everyone on this ranch was fighting like this, I had just arrived,” she reminded everyone.
I looked to my boots, remembering that day, remembering her confession.
“Every single one of you didn’t trust me— not until I told you what I’d gone through,” she rasped.
Mason was off his horse, coming to her now. “Harmony.”
She ignored him. “When you learned I’d gone through hell, all of you stopped fighting,” she snapped, turning her body and gesturing to the door. “Diana is walking through the depths of her own damn hell as we speak, and this is what I come outside to find.”
My head snapped up, staring at Harmony as my insides burned me from the inside out, her words ringing in my head.
Diana is walking through the depths of her own damn hell as we speak.
Diana is walking through the depths of her own damn hell as we speak.
Diana is walking through the depths of her own damn hell as we speak.
Diana is walking through the depths of her own damn hell as we speak.
Diana is walking through the depths of her own damn hell as we speak.
“Sis,” Kings tried, but she ignored him too, looking at me.
“She’s asking for you, Mags.”
I was back in the house, kicking the door shut before she finished. Valerie was in the kitchen with Abbie, their soft whispers coming to a halt as they both turned to look at me.
“Hi, Mags,” Valerie greeted softly, studying me intently.
Jaw painfully tight, I tipped my hat to both of them. “Where is she?”
“Spare bedroom,” Abbie answered.
I said nothing else, prowling down the hallway, my footsteps echoing through my home. I braced myself, unsure of what I should expect.. I just hoped all the blood and dirt was off her. If I had to spend another second of my life seeing her like that, like she’d been in the same war zones I’d been in, I would kill someone. I stopped in the doorway, finding her dressed in lilac PJ shorts and a cream shirt—Valerie’s, I presumed. That blonde hair, only a small contribution to my addiction, was damp and braided over her shoulder. She leaned against the headboard, pillows behind her back, three underneath her foot. Her hands were folded in her lap, fingers laced together, but her thumb was moving back and forth, as if she was trying to self-sooth. She wasn’t looking at me, but at the painting on the wall across from the bed, hanging over the dresser.
“Pretty,” she whispered, sensing my presence.
Yes, yes she fuckin’ was.
This was the most natural I’d seen her, and I was struggling not to fall to my damn knees, to give in to every single want—need—I had for her. Prettiest damn thing I’d ever seen. I’d been all over this damn planet, and nothing—no one—could compare.
“May I come in?” I asked, my voice gruff, thick with a mix of agony and need.
She looked confused when those hazel eyes finally landed on me. “This is your cabin,” she said.
“And for the time being, this is your room,” I gently clarified. “Do you want me in or not?”
Pain flashed across her beauty as she nodded. Slowly, I stepped inside and pulled off my hat, holding it to my chest and ignoring the organ pounding inside of it. Her skin was clean now and I could breathe slightly easier, but the bruising on her thigh and the cuts up and down her arms made the knife in my gut sink that much deeper.
“You look tired.”
I blinked, my eyes snapping up from her legs to meet hers. Her face was soft, her brows slightly bunched in concern. “What?” I asked.
She cleared her throat. “You look exhausted, Mags,” she noted, her voice stronger.
My body was running on fumes of fear and adrenaline, but I knew it was only a matter of time before I passed out. The last time I’d gone this long without any kind of rest was overseas, in the middle of a desert. My squadron and I were under attack for six days straight, deep in enemy territory. While our lives were on the line, some bastards in suits over in D.C. spent five of those days weighing the consequences of sending in backup, not to mention air cover.
“I’m alright,” I told her, the phantom pain on my left side making itself known for the first time in weeks.
My firefly stared at me for some time, and I let her, needing anything from her, even if it was just her gaze. “Mags,” she began tentatively, “I can have Thomas or Chase take me home.”
I stiffened.
No. Hell the fuck no.
She continued talking, as if she hadn’t just scared the shit out of me for the second time today. “It might be for the best anyways. You need your rest, and the last thing I want to be is a bother to you.”
I wanted her to be my only bother, for the rest of my damn life.
“I suggest,” I started on a low growl, getting her attention, “that you snap that pretty little mouth shut.”
“W-what?”
“You’re testing my patience again,” I pushed out.
“I was just suggesting—”
“—something stupid,” I finished for her. “You were suggesting I let another man take you out of my home after carrying you down a damn mountain.”
She flinched. “Mags—”
“You aren’t fuckin’ leaving, Diana,” I declared, putting my hat on the hook on the wall. I'd put one up in every room. Her chest began to heave as I kicked the door shut and made my way to her.
“Mags,” she breathed.
I was to the bed, and before I could think differently, I leaned over her as she sank down, my hands on either side of her head as I caged her in. Those hazel eyes, now greener than anything else, were wide, her pants filling my ears, giving me something to fill even more fantasies. For years, I dreamed of this moment. Me, above her in bed as she looked up at me in awe.
“Tell me, right here and now, that you want to leave me,” I challenged.
“I—I—Mags, I was just—”
“You say my name and ‘please’ in the same fuckin’ sentence, I’ll give you anything you fuckin’ want,” I informed her, my heart bleeding now. “That’s the kind of power you have over me, Firefly. Drivin’ me insane, do you understand?”
Her pants grew louder, and my cock twitched, begging for something other than the hand I’d fucked myself with for over a decade.
“M-Mags,” she rasped, her eyes dropping to my lips.
But fuck, if she asked me to kiss her, I would. If she asked me to take back all the pain I’d caused her, I would. If she asked for me to make love to her, I would.
All she had to do was say the goddamn words.
She didn’t know my weakness, not until now. That made my next sentence more dangerous.
“You want to leave, you better say my name and ‘please.’ ‘Cause that’s the only fuckin’ way I’m letting anyone take you out of here,” I bit off. “Someone tries to take you from me, I’ll kill ‘em.”
“Okay,” she practically whimpered, the scent of my soap on her surrounding me now.
My eyes dropped to her lips, knowing in my soul she tasted sweeter than I could ever dream.
“Get some rest,” I ordered softly. “I’ll be back later with food.”
Then, I was gone, shutting the door behind me.
It wouldn’t be until hours later, after everyone had finally left for the night, that I finally lost my shit, letting my baby see the worst parts of me, the parts no one should ever see.