Chapter 20 Lucy
Lucy
Male voices drag me from sleep. Low and serious, drifting through Gabriel's house in the pre-dawn darkness.
My heart immediately kicks into that familiar overdrive, adrenaline flooding my system, the same fight-or-flight response that's kept me alive for two years on the run.
Something's wrong.
I slip from bed quiet as a ghost, years of practice making my movements silent.
Tyson lifts his massive head, blinking at me in sleepy confusion.
The hardwood floor sends cold shock waves up through my bare feet as I pad toward the kitchen, my soft cotton pajamas suddenly feeling too thin, too revealing for whatever crisis waits ahead.
The voices become clearer as I approach. Gabriel's measured tone, Colt's rougher cadence, and underneath it all, Beau's deeper register. All three of them. Here. At dawn.
My stomach drops like a stone. They're talking about me. They have to be. After last night, after the kisses, after the impossible tangle I've made of everything, they've probably decided to stage an intervention.
Make me choose.
Or worse, they've decided for me.
I pause at the kitchen doorway, suddenly hyperaware of my rumpled hair and bare face, of how small I feel next to these three mountain-sized men.
My cotton pajamas might as well be tissue paper for all the confidence they give me.
But there's no hiding now. I can see them gathered around Gabriel's kitchen table, three men who've somehow become the center of my universe, their faces grave in the pale morning light filtering through the windows.
"What's going on?" The words come out smaller than I intended, barely above a whisper.
All three heads swivel toward me, and I catch something that might be male appreciation in their gazes as they take in my sleep-mussed appearance. But it's quickly replaced by something more serious, more protective, like they're already gearing up to shield me from whatever's coming.
Gabriel stands first, moving toward me with that careful control he wears like armor. "Lucy. We need to talk."
My throat goes desert-dry. "About what?"
"Sit," he says gently, pulling out a chair with old-fashioned courtesy. "Please."
I settle into the offered seat, hyperaware of Colt and Beau's eyes tracking my every movement, of the way my cotton pajama top suddenly feels too clingy. "You're scaring me," I admit, because honesty seems like the only weapon I have left.
"We're going to catch the Cutter brothers," Gabriel says without preamble, like he's ripping off a band-aid.
"What?" Whatever I was expecting, it wasn't that.
"I did some thinking last night after..." His eyes flick to mine, and heat floods my cheeks at the memory of his mouth on mine, his hands tangled in my hair. "Something's been eating at me about how the Cutters knew to target the clinic van specifically."
Colt leans forward, his green eyes intense as laser beams. "Those bastards are never seen in town. Nobody knows exactly where they hole up, somewhere in the mountains like the rats they are. But they always seem to know everything that's happening down here."
"So I did some digging," Gabriel continues, slipping into full sheriff mode. "Turns out one of the waitresses at the Dusty Spur has been dating Jake Cutter. Has been for months. She feeds him information about everything she overhears, and in a town this size, that's pretty much everything."
"How does that help us catch them?" I ask, though part of me isn't sure I want to know the answer.
Beau speaks for the first time, his voice quiet but carrying that steel undertone that means he's made up his mind. "We give her something irresistible to overhear."
Gabriel nods. "Colt and Beau are going to have a very public conversation tonight at the bar.
Something about Beau needing ketamine for emergency surgery on a valuable horse at his ranch.
Large quantity, worth a fortune on the street.
I'll watch the waitress, follow her when she leaves to tip off the Cutters. "
"That won't work," I say immediately, my New York street smarts kicking in. "Everyone knows you two don't talk to each other. Nobody's going to buy a casual conversation between you."
"Exactly," Gabriel says, and there's something grimly satisfied in his expression. "Which is why it'll get everyone's attention, including our waitress. Besides," his eyes move between Colt and Beau, "word's already getting around that things have changed between you two."
The two men look at each other, and I can see the wariness there, the careful navigation of a friendship that's still finding its footing after years of silence and hurt.
"I don't like it," I say, fear making my voice sharp. "Gabriel, these aren't just drug addicts, they're violent. Unpredictable. You saw what they did to Dusty. These aren't people who just steal and run. They hurt for the sake of hurting."
Gabriel's jaw tightens to granite. "What about what they did to you?"
I shake my head hard. "People hurt people all the time. That's just... that's humans being terrible to each other. But it takes someone extra twisted to hurt an innocent animal on purpose. With that kind of calculated cruelty." My voice cracks slightly on the last words.
The silence that follows is heavy, loaded with emotion I can't quite name. All three men are staring at me with something that looks like awe, like I've just said something profound instead of simply stating what should be obvious.
"They hurt someone who means a lot to us," Gabriel says quietly, and something in his voice makes my chest go tight. "That makes it personal."
Someone who matters to them. To all of them. Me.
I want to argue more, want to find a way to keep them all safe without putting anyone at risk, but I can see in their faces that the decision has been carved in stone. They're going to do this whether I like it or not.
"When?" I ask, resigned to the inevitable.
"Tonight," Gabriel says. "Colt and Beau will hit the bar around eight. Make sure Cindy, that's the waitress, overhears every word. I'll be watching from the shadows."
"What about me? How can I help?"
"You stay here. Safe." Gabriel's tone leaves no room for argument, but there's something almost pleading underneath the command.
The discussion is closed, the plan decided. Gabriel checks his watch and stands, already shifting into sheriff mode like putting on armor.
Colt stretches and rolls his shoulders like he's preparing for a fight. The morning suddenly feels finite, like sand running through my fingers.
Beau stands suddenly, his chair scraping against the floor. "Actually, I was thinking Lucy might want to come to the ranch today. Check on Darcy. See how our girl's doing."
Hope surges so fast it actually hurts. "Really? She's okay for visitors?"
"More than okay. She's been asking for you." Beau's slight smile transforms his whole face, makes him look younger, less burdened. "Well, as much as a calf can ask for anything. Moos every time someone mentions your name."
The joy that floods through me is immediate and overwhelming. Without thinking, I launch myself from my chair, throwing my arms around Beau first, then Colt, then Gabriel. They're all solid and warm and smell like coffee and morning and safety, and for a moment I let myself pretend this is normal.
That I'm a woman who gets to hug the men she cares about without it being complicated, without it being borrowed time.
When I step back, they're all looking at me with soft expressions that make my heart do acrobatics, and the air between us crackles with things unsaid.
"I should get dressed," I say, suddenly aware again of my pajamas and the way they're all very carefully not looking at certain parts of me while somehow still seeing everything.
"Take your time," Beau says, his voice rougher than usual. "I'll wait outside."
Twenty minutes later, I emerge in dark jeans and a soft cream sweater to find Beau leaning against his truck, looking like every cowboy fantasy I never knew I had.
When he sees me, he straightens and moves to open the passenger door with old-world courtesy.
"Ma'am," he says with exaggerated formality, and I laugh despite the tension coiled in my stomach like a spring.
His hand settles at the small of my back as he helps me up into the truck, and the contact sends electricity racing up my spine. When he leans across me to grab the seatbelt, I have to fight the urge to turn my face into his neck and breathe him in.
"Comfortable?" he asks, and his voice has dropped to something lower, more intimate.
"Perfect," I manage, though comfortable is the last thing I am with him this close, with the memory of Gabriel's kiss still burning on my lips and the knowledge that I'm falling for all three of them in different, dangerous ways.
The drive to Blackwell Ranch passes in charged silence, broken only by classic country on the radio. Beau's hands are steady on the wheel, but I catch him glancing at me when he thinks I'm not looking.
Darcy is waiting for us in the barn, and the sight of her healthy and alert and very much alive brings tears to my eyes.
She's grown in the past week, filled out and gained the kind of strength that speaks of a full recovery, and when she sees me, she actually moos in what I choose to interpret as pure joy.
"Look at you," I whisper, dropping to my knees beside her stall without caring about my jeans. "You beautiful, perfect girl."
"She's been waiting for you," Beau says softly, and when I look up at him, there's something tender in his expression that makes my heart stutter and skip.
We spend the morning working together, checking on the other animals, walking fence lines, talking about everything and nothing. Beau is patient with my questions, amused by my city-girl observations about ranch life, and gentle when I stumble over unfamiliar tasks.