3. Evan
THREE
EVAN
Setting another chunk of wood on the wide stump, I steadied my stance.
My calloused hands gripped the wood handle in front of me.
Week after week of consistent work had hardened my palms but smoothed the handle so it fit perfectly in my hands.
With an overhead swing, the splitting maul cut through the oak, sending both halves flying to my feet.
I grabbed the next piece and did it again.
And again.
And again.
I grunted and split the large pieces of the oak tree I had felled earlier that morning.
My arms and back ached in the best way, but the hard labor and repetitive task were the only things that kept my mind truly quiet.
I paused just long enough to pull the rich, earthy smell of wood and mountain air to the bottom of my lungs.
It’s amazing the things you miss in the city.
“You are really leaning into this whole lumberjack thing.”
So much for peace and quiet.
I turned to see my little sister, Gemma, stomp up the hillside toward me.
My eyes flicked to her shirtsleeves, and my insides tightened as they always did.
I’d seen the scars across her chest and on her forearm only a handful of times.
Gemma almost always kept them hidden, but they still haunted me.
I couldn’t meet her eyes. “’Sup, Gem.”
“Really, Evan? Suspenders?” She ran a hand through her cropped blonde hair as she pinned me with a stare.
I straightened and snapped one suspender under my finger. “What? They keep my ass crack in my pants. Besides, they’re cool.”
“You are so old .”
Gemma was only nineteen, a full decade and some change behind me, but some days it felt like thirty years separated us.
I ignored her jab and continued to split the wood logs at my feet.
“This place is so boring,” she pouted.
“Did you do your chores?”
I could practically feel annoyance radiate from her as her eyes rolled around in her head. “Of course. I don’t want Ma on my ass again.”
At that, I smiled. Ma Brown and her husband, Robbie, owned and operated the ranch, and she ran a tight ship. If you were slacking, she called you out on it. If you didn’t meet the requirements to be here, you were out. No exceptions.
Instead of helping stack wood, Gemma kicked a few pieces with her toe and sat on a stump to my left.
She hummed, filling up the silence with full, warm sounds—something my mother used to do too.
I could tell Gemma inherited her voice, a rich and raspy tone that Mom would use only when she was truly happy.
I wished I could remember the last time I heard her sing.
Pushing the painful memories to the darkest corners of my mind, I swung harder and faster.
Only when I stopped to catch my breath did Gemma speak again. “Did you hear there’s a new girl?”
I didn’t reply but simply lifted a shoulder.
I hadn’t heard. I didn’t care, and truth be told, I didn’t have the luxury of thinking about random women.
That was, unless you counted the mysterious woman from the bar last night.
For reasons I couldn’t quite put my finger on, I was intrigued by her.
When she’d stepped into the bar, the frosty welcome she’d received from the town residents hadn’t seemed to rattle her.
She was all lush curves and delicate features, but she had an edge too.
Strong.
Despite my better judgment, I’d run after her like a lunatic and shoved my dinner in her face. Something about her had made me want to take care of her, though the vibe she’d put out was that she was more than capable without me. I’d gone to bed with her face in my mind and my dick in my hand.
Pushing away the thought, especially with my little sister staring at me, I forced my attention back to splitting wood.
“Ev,” Gemma continued, disdain dripping from her words. “Someone new . We haven’t had someone new here since Christmas. It’s literally the most exciting thing to happen since we’ve gotten here.”
“Yeah, well, don’t get too close. Not until we know she checks out.”
Gemma picked at her sleeve, but nodded. She knew as well as I did that the people who came to Redemption Ranch needed to earn your trust. Sure, there were strict criteria for being invited and working here, but it didn’t change the fact that someone came to Redemption for one of two reasons: either you were a criminal, or you were being hunted by one.
Whistling into the lodge, I stomped out my boots before slipping them off on the metal tray in the mudroom. One thing I’d learned fast here at the ranch was, no matter where you were, this was Ma’s house. That old bird was a tough lady, and she didn’t just earn your respect—she demanded it.
I took my time walking through the back door and into the spacious, open kitchen.
I swiped an apple from the bowl on the center of the island.
I smiled to myself at the wonky, misshapen bowl.
I’d tried my hand at wood turning, and though I’d failed pretty spectacularly, Ma had insisted she would use the bowl.
That was the thing with her—even something everyone else saw as trash had value.
I whistled my way to her office and knocked twice on the door.
“Open.”
I peered in to see Ma’s face scrunched up at her computer, her reading glasses perched at the tip of her nose. She didn’t spare a glance in my direction.
“Mornin’, Ace.”
A warm smile spread across my face at her nickname for me, but I swiped it away with my hand. “Ma.”
She pinned me with a stare. “Need something?”
“No, ma’am.” I leaned a hip against the chair and took a bite of my apple. “Just thought I’d stop by and see if there was anything else you needed.”
One skeptical eyebrow tipped up, and she returned her attention to the computer.
“I know you’re an ass-kiss, but damn you if it isn’t charming.” She fought the smile that tugged at her lips.
This time I let my smile spread freely. I dug into my pocket and grabbed a small round ball I had happened upon earlier today. “Found this for you.” I leaned forward and placed the buckeye seed on the corner of her desk.
“What’s this?” Ma picked up the mahogany ball and rolled it around her leathery hands.
“It’s a buckeye seed. There aren’t a ton of buckeye trees around here, but they’re all over back home.”
Home. Chicago wasn’t home anymore.
I cleared my throat. “I mean, so I’ve heard. They’re supposed to be good luck.”
A soft smile played at her lips. “You should keep it.”
She tossed the buckeye back to me. I caught it midair but quickly returned it to her desk. “I used up all my luck when you let Gemma and me stay here. Anything leftover goes back to you.”
Before she could protest, I pushed off the wall and headed back out the door.
The truth was, it was just short of a miracle that Gemma and I had landed at Redemption Ranch.
Aptly nicknamed too. Any Google search would only ping on Laurel Canyon Ranch, but locals and those who lived here referred to it only as Redemption Ranch.
Those who ended up here were hiding in plain sight in a small Montana town.
Managers supervised the daily grind of the ranch while agents worked and protected the guests when necessary.
Hand selected, the guests invited to stay and work on the ranch lived under a very specific set of rules.
New identities.
No connections to your former life. Ever.
Long, grueling work on a cattle ranch.
Provide testimony in federal court.
To save my sister, I’d sold my soul and become a rat. I’d forced Gemma and myself into the Federal Witness Protection Program, but it was the only way to keep her safe from the people who would stop at nothing to end us both.
Including my brother, Parker.