Chapter 31
Hunter
I caught the first plane out of Missoula the second I knew for sure something was off with Johnson and Kelly. Didn’t even stop for coffee, although I desperately needed it after driving all night to get back to the ranch. Just Denver-bound with a fire in my gut and a lead weight in my chest.
By the time my boots hit the pavement, I’d already secured a piece—legally, barely. Colorado laws weren’t my problem. Finding Jada was. And every instinct I had told me they had her. Johnson and Kelly didn’t strike me as the types to hang around Montana once they got their prize.
Denver was their turf. That meant they’d bring her back here, where they had connections, favors to call in, places to hide.
I went straight to the Colorado Bureau of Investigation office. Walked in like I had every right to be there and asked to speak with either of them. Which, technically, anyone did.
The lady behind the counter in the lobby looked me up and down, like she was trying to place me. I played dumb and patient, took a seat in the lobby and waited. And waited. An hour ticked by—sixty minutes of watching clock hands crawl. Finally, she told me both Johnson and Kelly had checked in that morning, but they were gone now. Out on “official police business.”
Bullshit.
They came in to be seen. Clock in. Set an alibi. Then vanished.
I could’ve punched a hole in the wall. Official business , my ass. That business had Jada’s name all over it. And I’d bet every scar on my body they weren’t out tracking down perps or answering 9-1-1 calls.
I didn’t leave my name. Didn’t so much as blink at the front desk woman as I walked out. I didn’t want them to know I was in town.
As soon as I was clear, I called Lachlan. Then Lucas. Neither were at their phones, but I didn’t mind. Both were pulling strings, calling in favors, using whatever intel they could dig up. I left voice mails that Kelly and Johnson had been at work this morning and my theory that they were trying to build an alibi.
The second I got back into my rental car, I slammed the door harder than I meant to. The vibration echoed in my chest, but it didn’t do a damn thing to shake loose the panic.
PTSD was a beast I knew how to fight. I could spot the signs—tunnel vision, shallow breath, the slow pressure squeeze of a memory I couldn’t stop. I’d trained myself for that war.
This? This wasn’t the same. This was worse.
Because my PTSD demons only came after me. This was about Jada. About someone else hurting her. And that was completely fucking unacceptable.
I dragged a hand over my face, then pulled out the burner phone and scrolled to the only number saved. I needed Jace. Lucas and Lachlan would both do what they could with their sources, but Jace could do things a lot faster—and a lot less legally, if he had to.
He picked up on the first ring.
“Tell me you’re calling to buy me dinner,” he said, voice scratchy like he was mid-coffee or mid-combat drill. With Jace, it could go either way. “Because I’m beginning to think we’re in a relationship.”
“I’m calling because Jada’s gone,” I said. I didn’t have it in me at all to joke.
His voice turned serious in a heartbeat. “Talk.”
I kept it simple. “Two dirty cops took her. A Ross Johnson and Melvin Kelly. Based in Colorado.”
“Crooked law enforcement? Fantastic,” he muttered. “What do you need?”
“Start with the basics. Then whatever you can dig up.”
There was a pause—short, sharp—while he typed. “Denver addresses for both are incoming. Johnson lives in a rental house off Quebec Street. Kelly’s in an apartment that makes roaches pack up and leave.”
“Good,” I said, starting the car. “I’ll hit Kelly’s place first. Keep digging.”
“Already on it.” He hung up without another word. That was how it worked between us. Mission first.
The drive didn’t take long, but my mind couldn’t stay quiet. My hands tightened on the wheel as Jace’s follow-up text came in.
Both mediocre cops. Nothing to write home about. Each has a couple reprimands. Financial messes—five divorces between them. Alimony and child support piling up.
Shit. They were desperate, dangerous. The worst kind of men to have a badge.
I pulled up outside Kelly’s apartment and killed the engine. The place was worse than described. Peeling paint. Windows with plastic taped over them. The kind of place that soaked into your skin and made you itch.
I walked right up to his unit and knocked on the door.
No answer.
I waited, breath steady. Listened, but still nothing.
I leaned closer to the grimy window and tried to peer through the slit in the blinds. Empty. Or dark. Either way, no signs of life inside. Just the soft buzz of the broken porch light and a beer can rolling somewhere in the breeze.
This was a dead end. No way they’d stash her here. Too risky. Too visible. Someone would’ve heard something, seen something. These walls were paper-thin.
I turned, jaw clenched, and made my way down the cracked steps. An elderly couple shuffled past me, hand in hand, like they’d been walking this same route for sixty years.
“Excuse me,” I said, slowing my steps. “Have either of you seen Detective Kelly in the last twenty-four hours?”
The man looked up, squinting. The woman leaned on his arm a little heavier.
“No, haven’t seen that jackass,” she said, voice raspy. “But if you do? You tell him to stop leaving his garbage in the hallway. Smells like death warmed over.”
“Yes, ma’am. I’ll let him know,” I said. Right after I beat the shit out of him.
The man gave me a long once-over, like he was deciding whether I was part of the problem or the solution. He didn’t say anything. Just nodded. They kept walking. I turned and rushed back to my rental.
Johnson’s place was on the other side of town. It was a single-story box of a house, paint faded, lawn dead, mailbox hanging by one screw. Still a shithole, but a more private one. A place no one would notice screams. Kelly and Johnson were much more likely to have brought Jada here.
I parked far down the block away and took the sidewalk on foot, cutting through the side yard of the neighbors to stay out of direct view. I kept low, my newly obtained Glock secured at my side, every sense on high alert. This place was too quiet. No signs of life, no porch furniture, no lights on. But that didn’t mean it was empty.
I crouched behind the overgrown hedge and scanned the windows. Nothing moved. No blinds shifting. No shadows passing behind the glass. Still, I didn’t trust it. I moved to the back and paused just below the kitchen window, listening.
Silence.
My pulse was steady, my breath tight. I adjusted my grip on the gun, crept up the steps, and took position by the door. Breaching this place alone wasn’t an optimal plan, but I wasn’t going to wait. They could have Jada in the basement or something, doing horrible things to her. I was seconds away from forcing it open when my phone buzzed in my pocket.
Lucas.
I ducked back off the stoop and answered quietly, “I’m about to breach Johnson’s house.”
“What the hell do you mean breach?” His voice was low but sharp. “Alone?”
“Yeah. I’m not going to wait if they might be hurting her.” I shifted my weight against the wall, trying to keep my voice even, but the frustration was bubbling up fast. “She could be inside, Lucas.”
“Not going to do either of you any good if you get dead.”
I let my head fall back against the siding, eyes closed. “It’s a chance I’m willing to take. I don’t have any other options. I don’t have a team.”
“Actually, you do. Lachlan and I are en route to you right now. We’re five minutes out. We caught the next flight after you—Lachlan figured he’d get further with CBI in person since he’s fellow law enforcement.”
Relief washed over me so fast it left me dizzy. I hadn’t realized how much I needed backup until I heard those words. Lucas had never let me down, not once, and with Lachlan along—especially with his badge and connections—we’d have options I didn’t have alone.
“I’m behind the house,” I muttered. “Nothing looks off, but it’s too quiet.”
“Stay put. We’re close.”
I ended the call and pocketed the phone, taking a long breath through my nose. Just five more minutes. I could wait that long if it meant doing this smart. Getting Jada out alive.
Three minutes later, a dark SUV slid down the street and parked near my rental. Two figures got out, moving quick and low. Lucas reached me first, Lachlan right behind him. No handshakes. No greetings. Just nods and tension.
We didn’t need to say anything else. We were already moving.
Lucas crouched beside me, behind the overgrown hedge, while Lachlan scanned the back perimeter. The three of us hadn’t worked together like this before, but the rhythm settled quickly—instinct and training clicking into place. I pulled my Glock from my waistband and flicked off the safety, my fingers already itching for the breach.
“Lachlan,” I said, glancing over at him as he came back around to the side yard. “You sure you’re good with this? This is an illegal entry, and you’re still a badge.”
He didn’t hesitate. “Sometimes the law and justice aren’t the same thing. I signed up to protect people, not follow broken systems. If Jada’s in there, I’ll deal with the fallout. After we get her out safe.”
I nodded once, that tight knot in my chest easing just enough for air to get in. Most guys in his position wouldn’t risk it, wouldn’t cross that line. But Lachlan didn’t just say the words—he meant them.
“Front or back?” Lucas asked, voice low.
I pointed to the back entrance. “It’s more concealed. Curtains are shut, and I didn’t see a camera.”
Lucas took point, I followed, and Lachlan covered our six. We moved in sync, quiet steps across the deck, breaths held. I watched for movement in the windows, for the flicker of a shadow or the telltale glow of a light. Nothing.
Lucas knelt and tested the knob. Locked. He looked up at me. I nodded, then stepped forward and kicked hard—doorframe cracking, the sound loud as hell in the stillness. We slipped in fast.
The kitchen was empty, a faint scent of garbage and stale coffee lingering in the air. Dishes in the sink, one crusted over with dried tomato sauce, but nothing fresh. No noise, no rustling, no voices.
We fanned out, weapons drawn.
Living room—clear.
Two bedrooms—clear.
Bathroom—empty.
The place had that hollow feel. Not like someone had just stepped out for coffee. This was days-old quiet. No sign of Johnson. No sign of Kelly. And worse—no sign of Jada.
Lachlan stood near the fireplace, eyes scanning the mantel. “No recent mail, no keys, nothing personal. Like he’s been staying somewhere else.”
Lucas looked at me. “You think they’ve got her stashed somewhere off-grid?”
“I don’t know. But she’s not here.”
Frustration clawed at me, sharper than before. My breath was tight in my chest again, like I’d swallowed glass. We were close—I could feel it—but we were still one step behind. Every minute we wasted was another minute she was in their hands.
And that thought made me want to level the whole goddamn block.
Before I could say anything, my burner buzzed in my pocket. I yanked it out and saw Jace’s name lighting up the screen.
Maybe we finally had something to go on.