Chapter 29-Micah
Earlier that same morning.
Sloane is asleep before midnight.
She doesn't stir when I slide carefully out of bed.
I stand there for a long moment, just watching her.
Moonlight spills across the quilt, catching the riot of red hair spread over my pillow. One hand is tucked beneath her cheek. Her breathing is slow, peaceful.
Perfect.
This is exactly where she belongs.
Safe.
Here.
With me.
The knot in my chest loosens. I lean down and brush my lips across her forehead.
“I'll be back before you wake up, Princess.”
She murmurs something unintelligible and snuggles deeper beneath the blankets.
Fucking adorable.
My heart damn near gives out just looking at the picture she makes. To think I could’ve lost her tonight to those motherfucking assholes.
But no—that didn’t happen.
I force the thought from my mind. I wasn’t too late. She’s here now. Safe and I will never allow her to be in danger ever again.
I’ve already decided she’ll have a full security detail at her place of business from now on.
She might fight me on that, but I’ll persuade her. Or I’ll make sure she doesn’t know they’re even there.
Win win.
I watch her for another minute, then I leave.
The cabin is silent as I pull on my boots and grab my keys.
Outside, the night air bites at my face.
My truck is waiting. So are my brothers.
The radio is playing something that’s somewhere between rock and country. I don’t care what it is.
The drive is quiet. Nobody says much. We don't need to.
Benji and Sawyer already handled the hard part. Scarface and his three lieutenants are at the secure location we scouted out months ago.
The rest?
They ran.
Good.
Fear spreads faster than blood ever could. By sunrise, every low life from here to the county line will know two things.
Sloane O'Brien is untouchable.
And Jersey Iron Ranch isn't a place you threaten unless you're looking to disappear from polite conversation.
The location sits a few miles out of town and away from our ranch.
The way I see it, it’s all about insurance. Every military man has contingency plans.
This one is ours.
A forgotten quarry tucked deep in the pines where the only witnesses are owls and old stone.
My headlights sweep across the clearing. Benji leans against the nondescript van we use around the ranch from time to time with his arms folded.
Sawyer stands a few feet away, expression carved from granite.
Between them, four men kneel in the dirt.
Their wrists are zip-tied behind their backs.
Shoes gone.
Weapons gone.
Egos gone.
They're bruised.
Bleeding.
Breathing hard.
Scarface lifts his head when he hears my truck door shut.
The sneer he wore inside The Watering Hole is gone.
Funny how quickly courage evaporates.
I walk toward them.
Slow.
Measured.
No hurry.
The crunch of gravel beneath my boots is the only sound in the clearing.
I stop a few feet away.
“You thought this was going to end differently for you.”
Nobody answers.
“You figured you'd rough up a woman.”
My voice never rises.
“You figured you'd make an example out of her.”
Scarface looks away first.
Mistake.
“But I warned you.”
I crouch until we're eye level.
“And you didn't listen.”
Silence.
The kind that settles heavy.
The kind men remember.
“I don't give a fuck what Patrick owed you. I don't care how much money you think you lost. And I sure as hell don't care what excuse you tell yourselves for putting your hands on my woman.”
I let each sentence hang. One of them starts to whimper. Then a second one.
But I don’t feel any sympathy or pity.
“You walked into her place of business. You trashed the place. Threatened her. Terrified her. You put your slimy fucking hands on her.”
My jaw tightens.
“You were warned once. Then you came back and did it again. And that was your final mistake.”
Scarface finally finds his voice.
“We didn't know—”
“No.”
I cut him off.
“You didn't. But you do now.”
He swallows.
Around us, the woods are perfectly still. Even the wind seems to have stopped listening.
I don’t glance at Benji or Sawyer.
A lifetime of trust passes between us without a word.
This is my mission.
My sin to carry.
And I will.
I’ll stack it with all the others. But this time, I’m doing it for the best possible reason.
This time I’m doing it for love.
I look at the four men kneeling before me.
“Please,” Scarface begs.
But the knife in my hand slices across his throat faster than he can finish his sentence.
“Oh shit. He killed him!”
The man next to him tries to scramble away. But he’s next. The last two them follow the movement of my blade with frightened eyes.
I dispatch the third. And when I get to the fourth I cock my head to the side. And I slice through his cuffs.
“You wanna live?”
“Yes. Fuck, yes. I’m sorry about your girl, man! I don’t even run with these guys!”
“I’ll let you live under one condition.”
“What?”
“You tell everyone. Every dealer. Every collector. Every wannabe tough guy. If they so much as breathe in our direction, they won’t live long enough to regret it. And that goes for our women, too.”
He nods frantically and I think he understands.
Then I blindfold him, and I knock him out.
I lift him over my shoulder, and I turn towards my truck.
This conversation is over.
Behind me, I hear Sawyer’s voice.
“Well, I reckon this won’t happen again.”
“Shit, I think one of them pissed themselves the ride over,” Benji grunts after tossing the last body into the trench before adding the special brew of chemicals that’ll work to disintegrate the bodies and all biological evidence.
“Better hose out the van when we get back,” Sawyer says.
I don't look back.
By the time I toss this asshole into the back and climb into the driver’s seat, dawn is beginning to lighten the eastern sky.
I drop him off at a gas station on the highway, in the back where no one can see me remove his blindfold before tossing some water in his face.
“Th-thanks, man.”
“Don’t thank me. Just disappear.”
He nods.
I get back in the truck.
Beside me, my phone lights up with the image from the camera overlooking my cabin’s porch.
Sloane.
Sitting there with a steaming mug of coffee, watching the horizon.
My heart squeezes so hard, I find it difficult to breathe for a moment.
She’s safe. Home. Right where she belongs.
I allow myself one small smile.
Now I can go home.