Chapter 10 #2
The man tried to bolt. I grabbed him by the collar and slammed him into the side of my truck.
“Who sent you?” I said, my voice low.
He spit blood and laughed like he thought he was tough. “You think you can keep her?”
My vision went sharp around the edges.
Behind me, Marisol made a small sound, and I felt her hand clutch the back of my shirt like she was holding on to the only solid thing left.
Kane’s truck roared up from the far end of the street. The dog barked, wild and furious, throwing itself at the window.
The pickup’s passenger door flew open. The second guy jumped in the driver’s seat, tires squealing as he backed up hard, trying to get around Brody’s block.
Brody stepped closer, his weapon up now. “Stop the truck!”
The driver punched the gas anyway, swerving, barely missing Brody’s bumper. He tore down the street, the engine screaming. Kane’s truck peeled after him.
The guy I had pinned went still for half a second as he realized he’d been left behind. Good. I tightened my hold and shoved him down onto his knees.
“Call it in,” I barked to Brody. “Now.”
Brody already had his phone out. “Sheriff’s on the way. Task force is patched in. They’re moving.”
Marisol’s breathing came fast behind me. I turned toward her, my hands hovering as I looked her over. “Are you hurt?”
She shook her head. “No. I’m fine.”
“You’re shaking.”
She swallowed, her eyes glossy. “I said I’m fine.”
That stubbornness. That pride. It tried to stand up even when fear knocked it flat on its ass. I stepped closer, lowering my voice. “Look at me.”
Her gaze snapped to mine.
“You’re safe,” I said. “You hear me?”
A tear slipped down her cheek before she could stop it. “I hate this,” she whispered.
“I know.”
Sirens wailed in the distance, getting louder. People had spilled out of the school now, teachers and parents and office staff staring. I tucked Marisol against my chest, shielding her from view. She sagged into me. Not fighting. Not arguing. Just holding on.
The sheriff’s deputy rolled up first, then another. They took the man off my hands, cuffing him while he kept mouthing off, spitting blood on the pavement.
Brody walked Marisol toward the truck, keeping his body angled between her and the crowd.
I spoke with the deputy, gave him the basics, and handed over the plate Brody had clocked.
“The task force is already on it,” the deputy said, his eyes sharp. “They called us the second the intercept happened.”
“Intercept,” Marisol repeated faintly behind me. “Is that what this was?”
I turned to her. “Wait for me in the truck. Please?”
She didn’t argue. She climbed in on shaky legs, hugging her folder to her chest like it was the only normal thing left.
On the drive back, she didn’t speak. She just stared out the window, her face pale, jaw tight. The silence in the cab felt thick and heavy. I kept my hands steady on the wheel and watched every mirror.
Ten minutes into the drive, her voice broke the quiet. “They waited,” she said.
I glanced at her.
“They waited until I was smiling,” she whispered. “Until I started thinking about apartments and schedules and a normal life.”
My chest tightened. “They waited until you felt safe.”
Her throat bobbed. “They were going to take me.”
“Yes.”
She flinched at my honesty, then swallowed hard. “And Lucas.”
“Maybe,” I said. “Or they were going to use you to get to him.”
Her eyes squeezed shut. A tear rolled down her cheek, and she wiped it away fast, like she was angry at herself for letting it show.
I kept my voice low. “Marisol.”
She didn’t look at me.
“They didn’t catch you alone,” I said. “That matters.”
Her laugh was small and broken. “Because you won’t let me be alone.”
Because I couldn’t.
We hit the ranch gate, and the tension eased by a fraction when I saw the trucks staged, men posted, and a dog running the fence line. Brody radioed ahead, and the gate swung open.
Mama Mae was already on the porch by the time we pulled up. She didn’t ask questions. Just took one look at Marisol’s face and walked straight to her, wrapping her in a hug so fierce it looked like a warning.
“Let’s go inside,” Mae said. “Lucas is in the kitchen. He doesn’t know yet.”
Marisol’s breath hitched. “Don’t tell him.”
Mae’s gaze sharpened. “He needs to know enough to listen. He doesn’t need the details.”
Marisol nodded, her lips pressed tight.
Mae turned to me. “The task force called. They picked up the driver ten miles out. Kane stayed on him.”
Relief hit me so hard I had to inhale slowly to keep from showing it. “They got them both?
Mae nodded. “And they’re rolling up the rest. They’ve been waiting for a mistake. Looks like we just forced one.”
My jaw clenched. “Good.”
Marisol stood at the bottom of the steps, her arms hanging loosely at her sides like she didn’t know what to do with them.
I stepped closer. “Go to Lucas.”
She looked up at me, her eyes raw and red. “I can’t.”
“Yes, you can,” I said. “He needs you steady.”
Her throat worked. She nodded once and walked inside.
I stayed on the porch for a second, breathing in the ranch air, listening to the crackle of radios and the far-off bark of dogs.
Men moved around the property, tightening the perimeter like it had never loosened.
And all I could think about was her face when she’d been smiling outside the school.
The way hope had lit her up for a second. And how fast it had been ripped away.
Later, after Lucas had been fed and distracted and sent to the bunkhouse with Owen to play cards, I found Marisol in the bedroom, sitting on the bed with her hands clenched in her lap.
She looked up when I came in. Her eyes were dry, but the fear was still there.
“I tried,” she said. Her voice was quiet, bruised. “I tried to be normal.”
“You are normal,” I said. “This isn’t your fault.”
She tilted her head back to star at the ceiling. “I thought I could do this alone.”
I stepped closer. “You don’t have to.”
Her chin lifted, stubborn even now. “I don’t want to be someone’s responsibility.”
I stopped in front of her, careful with my tone because I knew how easily she’d interpret it as control. “You’re not,” I said. “You’re my choice.”
Something flickered across her face. Pain. Hope. Anger. Want. All of it tangled together.
She stood slowly, her eyes locked on mine. “Then stop protecting me like I’m temporary.”
My breath caught. I’d been trying to protect her body without claiming her heart because I’d been afraid of what claiming would do to her. To us. To the lines I’d crossed and the rules I’d broken. But there was no rule left that mattered more than her.
“You’re not temporary,” I said, my voice rough.
Her eyes filled again, and she didn’t look away this time. “Then choose me.”
I didn’t hesitate. “I already did.”
She stepped into me, her hands fisting in my shirt, and I held her close enough that her heartbeat thudded against my chest. For a long moment, she just stood there, letting herself be held.
Then her voice came out muffled against my shoulder. “I hate that I need you.”
I pressed my mouth to her hair. “I don’t.”
She tipped her face up, those gorgeous brown eyes searching mine. “What if this ends and you… you go back to being a man who keeps people at arm’s length?”
I swallowed. “You won’t let me.”
Her breath hitched.
“I’m not good at halfway,” I admitted. “I’m not good at casual. I’m not good at pretending I can touch you and not want more.”
Her cheeks flushed, and her gaze dropped to my mouth for one heartbeat before lifting again. “Neither am I,” she whispered.
I kissed her then. Slow at first, because the ranch was still on alert, and I wasn’t going to let desperation turn into recklessness. But the second her hands slid up my shoulders and her body pressed into mine, control turned into a thin, fragile thing.
She kissed me back with all the fear she’d swallowed and all the hope she’d been afraid to claim. It wasn’t the hungry rush of a moment stolen in danger. It was a decision.
When we broke apart, she rested her forehead against my chest. “Promise me,” she whispered.
“What?”
“That you’ll let me build a life,” she said. “Not just hide. Not just survive.”
I held her tighter. “I’ll help you build it.”
She nodded once, like that was the only thing she needed to hear.
Outside the cabin window, the ranch lights glowed steady in the dark. Radios crackled softly. Men moved in the distance, doing what they did best. But inside, with her in my arms, something in me finally settled.
The storm wasn’t done. Not yet.
But for the first time, we were both ready to acknowledge she’d never stand in it alone.