Chapter 21
Sierra
Reid doesn’t respond to my question. He doesn’t even turn around. Instead, I’m left staring at his back—corded, tense—as he looks out the window and drags a hand over his face.
“Reid…” I step closer, circling the table until I can see him. “This is serious. This isn’t just about her anymore. The cops were just here. If they start digging into your past, how long before they find…” I trail off.
I don’t finish it. I don’t want to.
The thought alone is enough—cold and heavy in my gut. Reid in handcuffs, being led away, a cop on each elbow. Gone forever. Maybe worse. Nebraska still has the death penalty in extreme cases. Rare, but not impossible. How long he’s got away with it…?
He should be nowhere near the police. Not now. Not ever.
“What’s going on?” I ask. “Why are the police looking for her?”
“Is this you being concerned about me?” A faint grin tugs at his mouth.
I don’t return it. “It’s me being concerned about myself, too. Or did you forget I could get dragged into this as an accessory? It’s a criminal offence to hide what you know from the police. It’s called misprision of a felony. I looked it up.”
Regret flickers across his face.
He finally turns to me, and for a moment, everything shifts—the years collapsing in on themselves.
The night he’d told me. Drunk. Raw. Confessing the thing that still claws at him in his sleep. He’d spent the next morning avoiding me, convinced I’d see him differently.
I didn’t.
If anything, I understood him more. Maybe that makes me cold. Or maybe I’ve seen enough to know some people don’t deserve to keep breathing.
It never made me think any less of him, or feel any less for him.
But he believed it had. Or maybe just that it should have, and that belief is what broke us—again and again. Every time things got good, he’d tear it all apart before we could settle.
And now we’re back here.
He steps closer, his hand coming up to cup my cheek. His thumb brushes slow, steady circles, and my breath catches.
I don’t move. I don’t pull away.
Whatever this is—this pull, this ache—it locks into place like it always has. Time doesn’t touch it. Distance doesn’t weaken it.
It just waits.
His gaze drops to my lips, and heat floods through me—sharp, immediate. For a few suspended seconds, all I can think about is his mouth on mine. Hard. Soft. Both.
I want him to erase everything with a single kiss.
“Don’t worry,” he murmurs. “I’ll be fine.”
“That doesn’t exactly inspire confidence.”
A smirk ghosts across his lips.
“What’s going on, Reid?”
“It’s not my story to tell.”
“I overheard some of the other guests talking. They were saying that said she has schizoaffective disorder. Bipolar tendencies.”
“That’s not true,” he says flatly. “She’s scared—terrified, even. But she’s not crazy.” He gives a short cynical laugh. “No more than anyone else, anyway.”
I study him, then nod slowly. I believe him.
Somehow, those cops hadn’t sat right with me either—the looks they exchanged, the passive aggressive tone of voice, the way they lingered, as if trying to think of another angle to play.
Asking probing questions. They weren’t just making a wellness call.
They were trying to learn everything they could about the place.
Even as Luke tried to move them along, they took their time, watching, listening.
And if her husband has that kind of reach…
Then he could reach Reid too.
“I know,” I say quietly, his touch still burning into my skin. “I know you want to help her. I just don’t want you getting caught in it. You can’t afford to, not with your… past.”
“I won’t. Trust me.”
I swallow. “I’m not sure I can, Reid.”
The words land heavier than I intended, cutting deeper than the moment calls for.
“I’m sorry,” he says softly.
“I know.”
Silence stretches between us.
“You don’t have to keep avoiding me,” I add.
“Who says I was avoiding you?”
I let out a small breath. “You didn’t start eating every meal in your office until I showed up, and this place isn’t exactly big—we haven’t run into each other once since…
” I flush, clearing my throat. “Anyway. I don’t want you feeling uncomfortable.
That just makes everything worse. It’s not exactly a great look, you always eating alone with Amanda. People will talk.”
A slow, knowing smile spreads across his face. “You know, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were jealous.”
Heat—anger combined with something far more dangerous—fuses inside me. Denial sits on my tongue, but I can’t quite force it out.
I don’t know how to untangle what I’m feeling.
All I know is that I want to kiss him until nothing else exists.
“It’s a good thing you know better then,” I whisper. His gaze drops to my lips again, tracing their shape.
The air between us tightens, thick with tension. His breath brushes mine, close enough to blur the space between us.
We hover there—right on the edge of something we swore we wouldn’t cross again.
A throat clears.
We jerk apart and turn toward the doorway in unison. Luke stands there. Heat floods my face as reality slams back into place.
Every excuse I might have made dies in my throat.
God. This is humiliating.
“Sorry to interrupt.” He sounds only mildly annoyed, looks mostly amused. “Just thought you’d want to know the cops are gone. We might need to double security. They were asking a lot of uncomfortable questions.”
Reid nods, clearing his throat. “I’ll contact the agency, see if they can send us any more men.”
“Did they ask about Reid?” I ask. “Personally?”
Reid freezes, mid-reach for his phone. Luke’s eyebrow lifts. “Why? What do you mean?”
I glance between them and realize—Reid never told him.
Of course he didn’t.
The only reason I know is because he was drunk and I was there. Otherwise, I never would have guessed.
I inhale, forcing my voice to be steady. “Nothing. I just thought they might start targeting him or something.”
“They asked general questions,” Luke says. “In fact, they asked a lot of questions. About the place. Layout. Rooms. Too many. Almost like they were mapping it.”
“That’s exactly what they were doing,” Reid replies. “We need to be careful.”
“Yeah.” I nod, already moving toward the door. “I should go.”
“Wait,” Reid calls. “Where are you going?”
“Out.” I don’t even know where. I just need space. From him. From both of them.
Luke doesn’t move as I reach the door. He waits, like he expects me to meet his eyes.
I can’t.
He’ll ask questions I can’t answer.
Hell, I don’t even understand it myself.
After a moment, he steps aside, and I slip past him without a word.
It’s been a couple of days. The cops haven’t come back—thank God—but the tension hasn’t eased. Reid and Luke have been keeping busy, upgrading security and dealing with Amanda, on top of everything else.
Reid’s been avoiding me. At least, that’s how it feels. He still skips most meals. Luke’s been harder to find too, and when I do see him, his smile feels… off.
I think I understand why.
Doesn’t mean it doesn’t sting.
Because of this, I’ve gotten into the habit of heading outside after breakfast, because talking to Talon is… easier than I expected.
He doesn’t say much, but when he does, it lands. Sometimes it’s just a grunt. Sometimes an actual sentence. Occasionally—if I’m lucky—more than one. I’ve started teasing him, just to see if I can get a reaction. Sometimes I even get a faint blush.
“So, you really grew up here,” I say. “On this mountain?”
A grunt answers me.
Right now, he’s under the hood of my car. The replacement coolant temperature sensor he’d been waiting for finally arrived, and he’s fitting it. After that, it’s just a matter of topping up the coolant and checking for leaks before he lets me take it out.
It’s strange. I used to think he was intimidating. Now I’m starting to think he’s just shy.
He’s not much of a conversationalist, but that’s mostly because no one tries. He looks like the kind of man people avoid, and he does nothing to soften that impression. If anything, he leans into it.
But I don’t.
The more time I spend with him, the more I see what’s underneath.
He listens. Really listens.
All morning, I ramble—stories from high school, safe ones. Nothing about my parents. Nothing about the bullying.
Still, he picks up on what I leave out.
When I tell him about getting detention after fighting a girl who kept stealing my lunch money, he asks, “Did any of your friends help you?” and “Why didn’t your parents talk to the school?”
Simple questions.
Sharp ones.
I brush them off, skirting around the truth, but his gray gaze lingers on me, steady and knowing. He sees through me anyway.
I shift the focus. “Did you go to school?”
“Yeah, up until tenth grade. After that, my grandmother got sick. She needed help, so I left.”
Three sentences. Not bad. “And?”
“And what?”
“How did you get by?”
“She had savings. I fixed things for people in town. Made things to sell.”
“Like what?”
“Furniture, mostly.”
“Ah. You’re a carpenter? Is that why you have the shed?”
He grunts.
“Can I see what you make?”
He pauses, then nods.
He rolls out from under the car and straightens. As he drags his shirt up to wipe the sweat from his brow, I get an unobstructed view of hard muscle and sculpted abs.
Desire hits me fast and sharp.
God.
How does someone just look like that? And how does he do it so casually, like it’s nothing?
I’m not usually the type to stare, but the way the sweat traces the bulge of his muscles as it rolls down his body…
My thoughts slip somewhere dangerous.
He’s already heading toward the shed, and it takes him glancing back and asking, “You coming?” to pull me out of it.
“Yeah,” I manage, jumping up and hurrying after him.
There are a few empty animal cages near the entrance, and he tells me he sometimes takes in injured wildlife. Apparently, the last one was a rabbit with a broken leg. The image of him carefully tending to something that small sends a strange warmth through me.
Inside, he shows me a room filled with carved furniture—solid, beautiful pieces that look like they belong in a high-end store.
“These are incredible,” I say, running my fingers over the smooth wood. The space smells like fresh sawdust and pine, my voice echoing softly in the large space. “You sell these?”
He nods.
“For a lot, I bet.”
A shrug. “I don’t need much.”
“Right. From selling the land.”
“Yes.”
“Your grandfather owned all this?”
“Yes. It was in my name.”
“Why sell to Reid? I’m guessing you had other offers.”
He considers that, then shrugs. “I liked him.”
“That’s it?”
“Yes.”
My pulse is still racing, the earlier thoughts refusing to settle. In the quiet of the space, with him this close, it’s hard to ignore what I want.
I move toward him slowly.
“Apart from the land and fixing things, do you do anything else here?”
He shakes his head.
I bite my lip, stepping closer, close enough to catch the scent of him—clean, warm, something wild beneath it.
How is he both soft and rough at the same time?
My voice lowers without me meaning it to. “So technically, you’re not a therapist, and I’m not your client.”
He frowns at first, not quite understanding. Then realization hits. His body goes still.
I close the remaining distance, letting my hand drift across his chest, feeling the heat and strength beneath my palm.
His hand closes around my wrist.
“We can’t,” he says, voice rough.
“Are you sure?” I murmur, leaning in until my lips brush his. “Because I think I just found a loophole.”
His breath falters.
Then I kiss him.
For a second, he doesn’t move, his grip tightening slightly, his heartbeat strong against me.
Then something in him breaks.
His mouth opens, and he kisses me back with a vigor that stuns me, grabbing my hair, moaning into my mouth as he drags me to the floor.
I’m a willing victim, of course. I turn perpetrator too, wrapping my legs around his waist, moaning at the hardness pressing against my pussy.
He feels even larger than he looks. His tongue slides over mine, deep and demanding, pushing into my mouth like he wants to take everything.
I take it, his taste going straight to my head.
He tastes wild—like the forest, like the mountains.
He grinds against me, harder this time, and it sends another rush through me.
My clit aches, my pussy tightening in need.
We’ve done nothing but kiss, and I’m already too far gone.
Then he pulls back without warning, spreading my thighs open, tugging my pants down to my knees.
He pauses and stares when he finally pulls them off me. His entire body is strung tight, teeth clenched like he's fighting demons only he can see.
Somehow, I hope the demons win.