15. Logan
Logan
She doesn’t step back.
That’s the first thing I notice.
After the kiss and fuck. After the way she took control of it—pulled me in, set the pace, made a choice neither of us can pretend belongs to the fake part of this relationship.
She stays.
Close enough that I can still feel the heat of her. Close enough that her fingers are still curled like she forgot to let go.
Or decided not to.
My hand tightens at her waist.
“You don’t do anything halfway, do you?” I ask.
Her breath is still uneven, but her gaze is steady. “No.”
I should move.
Create distance.
Get my head back where it belongs.
Instead, I brush my thumb along her side and watch the flicker she tries to hide.
“That wasn’t strategy,” I say.
“I know.”
Too honest.
Too fast.
Too dangerous.
Because now this isn’t something I can tuck neatly into the deal. Quinn chose that kiss. Chose me, at least for a few burning seconds, and I like that more than I should.
“Then we stop pretending it stays separate,” I say.
Her eyes sharpen. “That complicates the objective.”
“Yeah.”
“And you’re fine with that?”
No.
Not even close.
But walking away from her right now feels less like discipline and more like lying.
“We deal with it,” I say.
Before she can answer, my phone buzzes.
The sound cuts through the moment like a blade.
I pull it out, already knowing I’m not going to like what I see.
Unknown number.
Again.
A photo loads first.
Grainy.
Zoomed.
Recent.
Quinn and me, standing exactly as we were by the fence before coming into the barn. My hand at her waist. Her mouth still soft from mine. The ranch behind us.
Below it, a message.
Enjoying the view?
My blood goes cold.
“Logan?” Quinn asks.
I turn the screen toward her.
She goes still, but not scared.
Focused.
Calculating.
Which tells me one thing fast.
This isn’t random.
“Your brother?” I ask.
“Maybe.”
“Maybe isn’t good enough.”
“No,” she says quietly. “It isn’t.”
I scan the horizon, the ridge beyond the south pasture, the tree line near the old access road. Whoever took this had a clear angle on us. Close enough to know where we were. Far enough to disappear.
This isn’t gossip anymore.
This is surveillance.
I step away from Quinn, not because I want distance, but because the ranch just changed around us. Every shadow matters now. Every gate. Every truck track. Every hand who saw something and didn’t know it mattered.
I whistle hard toward the barn.
Ty Mason, one of our hands, looks up from the feed trailer.
“Get Grayson,” I call. “Cole too. Tell Luke I need him on the south fence line.”
Ty doesn’t ask questions. He moves.
Quinn watches me.
Not impressed.
Not surprised.
Assessing.
“You’re locking down the ranch,” she says.
“I’m making sure whoever took that doesn’t get another angle.”
“Smart.”
“Necessary.”
Her gaze shifts toward the open land. “Evan likes pressure in stages.”
I look back at her. “Explain.”
She doesn’t hesitate now. Good.
“First he creates uncertainty. Then he forces reaction. If the reaction is emotional, he uses it as proof you’re unstable. If the reaction is public, he shapes it. If the reaction is private, he finds a way to expose it.”
My jaw tightens. “So this photo?”
“A test.”
“For what?”
Her eyes meet mine. “To see whether you protect the ranch, protect yourself, or protect me.”
That answer hits too close to the thing already burning under my ribs.
Because my first instinct was her.
Before the land. Before the angle. Before the strategy.
Her.
Damn it.
Grayson comes out of the barn fast, Cole beside him, both of them reading my face before I say a word. Luke follows from the side path, already on his phone, sheriff written all over him now.
I hand Luke the phone.
He looks once.
His expression goes flat.
“Where was this taken from?” he asks.
“South ridge or access road,” I say. “Maybe the tree line.”
Cole’s gaze cuts to Quinn. “This yours?”
Her chin lifts. “No.”
His eyes narrow. “You sure?”
Logan-the-brother wants to let that question stand.
Logan-the-man does not.
“She said no,” I snap.
Cole’s gaze swings to me.
Grayson’s does too.
Quinn’s hand brushes mine—brief, warning, grounding.
I force my jaw to unclench.
Luke pockets his phone. “I’ll check tire tracks. Grayson, lock the east gate. Cole, have your hands count every horse and check the therapy barn.”
Cole’s stare stays on me another second, then he nods and moves.
Grayson steps closer. “You good?”
“Yeah.”
His eyes flick from me to Quinn. “That wasn’t what I asked.”
I don’t answer.
Because the truth is worse.
No, I’m not good.
Not with some bastard watching her. Watching us. Using her as bait while standing on Wilder land.
Grayson sees enough anyway.
“Keep your head,” he says quietly.
“I am.”
“Then prove it.”
He moves toward the gate.
Quinn turns to me once we’re alone enough to speak.
“You shouldn’t have defended me like that.”
I stare at her. “Excuse me?”
“With Cole,” she says. “You reacted.”
“He accused you.”
“He asked a valid question.”
“The hell he did.”
Her eyes flash. “This is what I mean. If Evan is behind this, he wants emotion. He wants division. He wants you choosing instinct over strategy.”
I step closer, anger still hot but focused now. “And what do you want?”
She pauses.
There it is.
The question neither of us has clean hands for.
“I want to stop him,” she says.
“That’s not all.”
Her expression tightens.
Good.
I’m done letting her hide behind clean words.
“You want access,” I say. “You want time. You want control. Fine. But you also kissed me like you were done lying to yourself.”
Her breath shifts.
Small.
Enough.
“Don’t use that against me,” she says.
“I’m not.” I lower my voice. “I’m using it to tell the truth.”
The ranch moves around us—men calling, engines starting, gates clanging shut. The whole place tightening because of one photo.
Because of her brother.
Because of her.
Because of us.
“This isn’t clean anymore,” I say.
“It never was.”
“No. Before, it was reputation. Now someone is watching you on my land.”
“Watching us,” she corrects.
I step closer.
“Same thing.”
Her gaze locks on mine.
For once, she doesn’t correct me.
A truck engine growls in the distance.
Not one of ours.
I turn before I think.
A dark pickup slows on the outer road near the south fence, too far to read plates, close enough to be deliberate.
Then it rolls on.
Slow.
Watching.
Luke’s voice cuts from behind me. “Logan.”
I’m already moving.
Quinn grabs my wrist.
“Don’t.”
I look down at her hand.
Then at her.
She knows exactly what I’m about to do.
“Let Luke handle it. Being a sheriff gives him cover,” she says. “If you chase, they get what they want.”
Every muscle in me fights that.
Every instinct screams to go.
But she’s right.
And I hate that she’s right almost as much as I hate that she knows how to stop me.
Luke jogs toward his cruiser. “I’ve got it.”
Grayson swings the east gate shut. Cole disappears toward the therapy barn.
The ranch doesn’t panic.
It responds.
That’s the difference.
Quinn watches all of it, and something moves across her face. Not calculation this time.
Understanding.
“This place protects itself,” she says softly.
I look at her.
“No,” I say. “We protect it.”
Her eyes come back to mine.
The air between us tightens again, but it’s different now. Not just want. Not just heat.
Something heavier.
Something with stakes.
“You’re part of that now,” I say.
She stills.
“That wasn’t part of the deal.”
“I know.”
Her throat works once. “Logan—”
“No.” I step in, close enough that she has to feel every word.
“You wanted in. You’re in. That means you don’t go anywhere alone.
You don’t keep information back because you think you can manage it.
And you sure as hell don’t stand between me and a threat because you’re used to taking hits by yourself. ”
Her composure cracks.
Just a hairline fracture.
But I see it.
“You don’t know what I’m used to,” she says.
“No,” I answer. “But I’m starting to.”
For a second, neither of us moves.
Then my phone buzzes again.
Another message.
Good. Now everyone’s looking where I want them.
My stomach drops.
Quinn reads it over my shoulder.
All the color drains from her face.
Not fear.
Realization.
“What?” I demand.
She looks toward the barns.
Then the house.
Then the pasture.
“He pulled your attention south,” she says. “But that may not be where the move is.”
A shout tears across the yard.
“Logan!”
Ty’s voice.
From the west equipment shed.
I’m already running before I understand why.
Quinn is right behind me.
We round the side of the barn and skid to a stop.
The lock on the equipment shed hangs broken.
The door stands open.
And inside, painted across the wall in fresh black letters, is one sentence.
WILDERS DON’T KEEP WHAT THEY CAN’T PROTECT.
Quinn goes silent beside me.
My hands curl into fists.
Because now I know.
This isn’t Evan testing us anymore.
This is him coming for the ranch.
And for the first time, he’s using Quinn to do it.