Chapter 7 #2
His other arm came around her waist, pulling her closer, and she went willingly, pressing into him like she was trying to memorize the shape of him, the warmth, the solidness of a man determined to stand his ground.
Reluctantly, he pulled back, rested his forehead against hers.
“I just want this all to be over, to go back to a normal life,” she whispered. “I’m scared.”
"So am I." He kissed her forehead. Her temple. The corner of her mouth. "But I'd rather be scared with you than safe without you."
She let out a shaky laugh. "That's the worst logic I've ever heard."
"Yeah, well. I'm a Marine. We specialize in bad ideas and good outcomes."
She pulled back just enough to look at him, and for the first time in what felt like forever, she smiled. "You're ridiculous."
"You like it."
She nodded. "Yes. I really do."
He stood, pulling her up with him, and wrapped the blanket tighter around her shoulders. "Come on. Let's get you home."
Home.
The word settled in her chest, warm and terrifying.
They rode back in silence, Blaze's hooves steady on the packed earth as the sun set beyond the ridge.
Liv's arms wrapped tight around Mike's waist, her cheek pressed between his shoulder blades.
She could feel the rise and fall of his breathing.
The warmth of him even through two layers of cotton.
The steady thud of his heartbeat against her hands.
For the first time in months, she felt safe.
Mike's hand came down over hers where they were clasped at his stomach. Squeezed once.
She squeezed back.
Heather was waiting on the porch when they rode up, arms crossed, face unreadable. Lyle stood beside her, one hand on her shoulder.
Mike helped Liv down from the saddle, and Heather walked over, studied her for a long moment.
Then she pulled Liv into a hug.
"Don't do that again," Heather said quietly. "You scared us half to death."
Liv's eyes filled. "I'm sorry."
"I know." Heather pulled back, hands on Liv's shoulders.
"And that’s all we’re going to say on the subject for tonight. Now get inside," she said, steering Liv toward the door. "You're freezing, and I'm making you tea whether you want it or not."
As they walked inside, Mike caught Lyle's eye. "Did Joe find anything?" Mike asked.
Lyle's expression darkened. "He's in the office. Said to come find him when you got back."
Mike nodded and headed inside.
Joe scanned the computer screen and blindly reached for his coffee, nearly knocking it over. Pudge, who was curled in his spot under the side table, cracked open one yellow eye in judgment.
"Yeah, yeah," Joe muttered. "Sorry I disturbed you."
He pulled up the security logs from overnight. Three pings on the system. Small. Almost invisible if you didn't know what you were looking for.
But Joe knew.
And what he saw made his jaw tighten.
The same masked IP that had accessed their guest records earlier in the week was back. And this time, whoever it was had run a specific search.
Langford.
Not Ramsey. Not Liv.
Her real name.
Joe sat back, fingers drumming the desk. Then he opened a secure message thread he hadn't touched in two years.
Johan. Need a favor. Sending you a photo and a name. Olivia Langford. Used to own a bakery in Manhattan. Disappeared two months ago. Someone's looking for her. Need to know who and why.
And I need it yesterday.
He hit send, sat back and drained his coffee, staring at the screen.
The reply had came back in under ten minutes.
I'll dig. But Joe, if someone's hunting her hard enough to ping a ranch server in Texas, this isn't amateur hour. Watch your six.
Mike walked into the office, saw his brother behind the desk.
"Tell me," he said.
Joe looked up and turned the laptop so Mike could see the screen.
A file. Olivia Langford's name at the top. And at the bottom, one word in red.
SUPPRESS.
Not locate. Not contact. Not confirm.
Suppress.
Mike stared at the screen for a long time. "What does that mean?"
"It means whoever's looking for her isn't interested in bringing her in for questioning." Joe's voice was flat. Certain. "They want her gone."
The emotion that shot through him was raw and intense. Gone. That wasn’t acceptable. Wasn’t going to happen. Not on his watch.
"Johan's still digging," Joe continued. "But he confirmed the search originated from a private security contractor. The kind that doesn't ask questions and doesn't leave witnesses."
"Yeah. Sounds about right, unfortunately. Liv witnessed an organized crime execution. Trigger guy’s name is Russo. Damian Russo. I don’t imagine they’re the kind of people to leave loose ends in the form of witnesses.”
Joe swore, started typing. “So, we are dealing with mafia.” Mike had mentioned that earlier, but without facts, he hadn’t wanted to assume. And organized crime sects were one of the hardest to trace digitally. “At least we’ve got a name now. Should make things easier.”
“Can you trace the IP computer?”
"Working on it. But these guys are good, Mike. Really good."
Mike scrubbed both hands over his face. "So what do we do?"
"We make sure they can't find her." Joe leaned back in his chair. "And if they do? We make damn sure they regret it."
Mike nodded. "I need to tell her."
"I know."
"She's gonna want to run."
"I know that too."
Mike looked at his brother. "I can't let her go, Joe."
"Then don't."
When Mike walked into the kitchen, he paused. Liv was alone, staring out the window as though she could see through the dark and ward off whatever was coming. He’d passed Heather in the hallway as she was ushering Charlotte to bed.
He didn't say anything at first. Just came up behind Liv, slid his arms around her waist, and rested his chin on her shoulder. “Hey.”
She flinched and then relaxed. “Hey back.”
They stood like that for a moment. Breathing together.
"You okay?" he asked.
"No. But getting there."
His arms tightened. He hated the tension in her body, knew why it was there, knew she was just waiting for the other shoe to drop and there wasn’t a damned thing he could do about it.
What he’d just seen on Joe’s computer filled him with dread and made him want to shield her from the whole world.
Emotions he wasn’t sure what to do with welled up in him.
He turned her around and took her mouth in a kiss that poured every ounce of emotion he was feeling.
It was a kiss that seemed to surprise her, yet she settled in, pressing against him, making him ache for something neither of them could have right now.
But with just a mere softening of her lips, her soft moan, she gentled him. Soothed him when he was to one who’d intended to do the soothing.
When he pulled back, she was smiling.
"What?" he asked.
"You taste like sweet coffee and terrible decisions."
He grinned. "My specialty."
She laughed, and the sound filled the kitchen like light.
Then his expression shifted. Went serious. "We need to talk," he said quietly.
Her smile faded. "That's never good."
"Joe found something. About the people looking for you."
Her hands, resting against his chest, slid away. She drew in a breath as though arming herself for battle. "Tell me."
So he did.
And when he was done, Liv stood there, hands clasped, fear nearly making her sick.
“You sure you want to sign on for this?” she asked.
“One hundred percent.”
“Be sure, Mike. Because it’s not just you. I can go—”
“No,” he interrupted, his voice nearly a shout. Then he softened. “Just no.”
She nodded and took a deep breath. “I’m tired of being afraid.” Her voice was steady and certain. “That’s not to say that I’m not. I’m human. But if they’re coming, then let them come. This jumping at every shadow is starting to piss me off.”
Mike pulled her in and held her tight. “Now you’re talking.”
She rolled her eyes. “You almost sound excited.”
“Not excited. Realistic.”
She nodded. “Your brothers clearly know the whole story already, but I think I ought to tell them myself. Can you arrange a get-together?”
“On it.” He pulled out his phone and sent a text. “I told everyone to meet us in the great room in fifteen.”
“Okay. Let’s do this.” Liv prayed they were all strong enough to survive what was coming.
Because trouble wasn't knocking anymore.
It was already at the gate.