Chapter 13 #3
He should have been there. He should have kept his promise. Then Huck would be safe and—
Nope. She didn’t want to blame him, but…but the fact was, she should have known better. He’d broken promises before. And sure, maybe he was trying to protect her, but…
But his idea of protection and hers seemed miles apart.
Now her eyes did burn, did fill. But see, this was what happened when she let down her guard.
Fine. She’d been taking care of herself and Huck for ten years, and she could do it again. She just needed to be smart, be strong, and keep Huck safe until she could get them out of this.
The zip ties around her wrists had some give. Billy—so Twitchy had a name—kept looking away when Huck sniffled, his conscience apparently not completely dead.
Details. Gather details. Stay ready.
Tank’s gun rode on his right side in a shoulder holster, the leather worn smooth from use. The van smelled like motor oil and stale cigarettes, overlaid with the metallic tang of fear.
Please, God.
The van slowed, tires crunching on gravel.
They stopped in front of a house, and through the gauzy black, it looked familiar…
Oh no.
Peeling yellow paint clung to weathered siding in patches. The front porch sagged under the weight of neglect, and windows stared back at them like dead eyes.
The old Wallace place.
“No.” The word escaped before she could stop it.
Tank’s grin revealed teeth stained yellow from tobacco. “Recognize it, do you? Guess the boss was right about you knowing the family history.”
Sierra’s mind raced. Boss? Family history? Ice formed in her veins as the pieces clicked into place. This wasn’t random. This wasn’t about cattle rustling or land grabs.
This was personal.
The van door slid open with a metallic screech, and cold mountain air rushed in. Billy grabbed Huck’s arm, hauling him toward the opening.
“Don’t touch him!” Sierra lunged forward despite her restraints, her injured ankle sending fire up her leg. Tank caught her easily, his grip bruising her shoulders.
“Easy there, wildcat. You’ll see your boy soon enough.” Tank yanked the hood off her. His breath reeked of chewing tobacco and whiskey. “Boss wants to have a chat with you first.”
They dragged her from the van, her boots hitting the gravel with jarring impact. Her ankle nearly buckled, forcing her to lean against Tank for support—a humiliation that burned worse than the physical pain, and shoot, she cried out.
Billy hauled Huck toward the back door, the boy’s boots dragging in the gravel. “Mom!”
“It’s okay, baby. Be brave.” Sierra’s voice broke despite her efforts to keep it steady.
The back door opened before they reached it.
Sierra froze.
Alden Jenkins stepped into the doorway. He wore pressed khakis and a polo shirt and looked every inch the politician.
A murdering politician.
“Sierra Blackwood.” His voice carried the same cultured tone she remembered from town council meetings, but underneath lurked something darker. Something that had always made her skin crawl.
Evil, probably.
“Alden.” Sierra straightened despite Tank’s grip on her arm. “You know Rowan will find you. This won’t end well.”
The man smiled, just a hitch up the side of his mouth. “Here’s hoping.”
She swallowed bile.
Alden stepped aside as Tank muscled her through the doorway.
The house’s interior smelled of neglect.
Dust motes swam in the late-afternoon sunlight streaming through grimy windows.
The living room furniture sat covered in sheets, ghostly shapes that spoke of abandonment.
The stone fireplace dominated one wall, its hearth cold and dark.
Built-in bookshelves flanked the mantel, their shelves empty except for cobwebs.
This was where Rowan had hidden when his stepfather’s rages grew too violent. Where he’d nursed bruises while planning his escape.
She’d found him here once, furious, breaking things. So maybe there was truth to his fear of his anger spiraling out of control. He’d scared her, for a moment, even as her heart broke for him.
It still did.
“I know he came here. Hid here.” Alden followed her gaze around the room. “I should have burned this place long ago.”
“What’s going on, Alden? Why am I here? Why is Huck here?”
Tank shoved her toward a straight-backed chair positioned in the center of the room. More zip ties waited on the seat, along with a manila folder thick with documents.
“Sit.” Tank’s command brooked no argument.
Sierra’s ankle gave out as he pushed her down, pain shooting up her leg like liquid fire. She bit back a cry.
Billy dragged Huck to a matching chair beside her, the boy’s face pale with terror. “What do you want with us?”
“Smart boy. Gets right to the point.” Alden picked up the folder. “Just like his father.”
Sierra stared at him.
“I know exactly who fathered your son,” Alden said. “I’ve known it since the day I saw you pregnant. And the resemblance is rather obvious once you know what to look for.” He opened the folder. “It does make this messier than I’d wanted, however.”
Huck’s blue eyes—Rowan’s eyes—widened with confusion. “Mom? What’s he talking about?”
“Your father is my stepson, boy. The same man who abandoned you both without a backward glance.” Alden’s voice carried false sympathy that made Sierra’s skin crawl.
“The same man who’s probably miles away right now, completely unaware that his family is in danger.
He doesn’t care about you—he’d rather be where the action is.
Mr. Hammer. Tough as nails. Living for danger. ”
“You’re lying. He loves us.” But Huck’s voice wavered.
“Am I?” Alden pulled out legal documents covered in dense text. “Let’s discuss why you’re here, shall we?”
Sierra forced herself to focus on the papers rather than the hurt in her son’s eyes. The heading made her gasp. Quit Claim Deed Transfer.
“I’m not signing that.” Her voice came out steady despite the heat filling her throat. “You’re not getting my land.”
“Ranching is dangerous work. Accidents happen all the time on ranches. Fires, for instance. Very tragic when they claim whole families.”
What?
“I’d hate for your ranch to fall into probate. Could take years to claim the rights.” Alden’s tone turned businesslike, as if they were discussing weather instead of murder. “You’re going to sign over your ranch to me, along with all mineral rights and water access. Upon your death, of course.”
“Upon my—” What? And then, “You won’t get away with this, Alden. You can’t just…” Her voice dropped. “I have a son.”
“I know.” He folded his arms. “That’s the problem. That was always the problem. Sean Wallace had a son. And I thought maybe I’d taken care of that by making him run from Renegade—especially when he was killed overseas. Never thought he’d come back from the dead.”
She tried to unravel his words—“Wait. The land. It doesn’t belong to you. It belongs to Rowan. As Sean Wallace’s son. You stole it from him—”
“Rowan was gone when his mom died,” he said. “And Mack wasn’t old enough to inherit.”
“Rowan doesn’t know the land is his.”
Jenkins raised a shoulder.
“And now that…” She looked at Huck. “The land belongs to Huck.”
“It’s a big spread, once you combine the Blackwood place,” he said quietly. Then he nodded at the men behind her.
But she kept her gaze on him. “This is about land?”
“Oh, honey. It’s much more than land.” He got up. “I’m going to need you to sign these documents.”
Sierra’s heart hammered against her ribs. “And if I refuse?”
Alden nodded to Billy, who pulled a knife from his belt. The blade whispered against Huck’s throat, drawing a thin line of blood.
“Then your son dies. Slowly. While you watch.”
“Stop!” Sierra lunged forward, but Tank’s hand on her shoulder slammed her back into the chair. “He’s just a child!”
“He’s his father’s son.” Alden’s voice carried no emotion. “And you’re going to sign those papers, or he’s going to learn…well, like father, like son.”
And she saw it then, Rowan, hiding his bruises, Rowan, scared, angry, vowing to fight back someday. Rowan, driven from his legacy because of what this man had done to him and made him do.
“Rowan will kill you.”
He smiled. “I’m counting on him trying.”
Jenkins would kill him. Or maybe Rowan would win—and end up in prison for the rest of his life.
The threat hung in the air like poison gas. Sierra stared at the documents. Sign, and they died anyway. Refuse, and Huck suffered before they died.
“The pen is right there.” Alden gestured to a ballpoint pen lying beside the folder. “Sign, and I promise his death will be quick. Painless.”
“Mom, don’t.” Huck’s voice came out smaller than she’d ever heard it. “Don’t do what he says.”
“Brave boy.” Alden’s approval made Sierra’s stomach turn. “Just like his father at that age. Right before I broke him.”
Sierra exploded toward him, everything inside her on fire. “You touch one hair on his head, and I swear—”
Tank caught her around the waist and threw her back into the chair.
Slapped her.
The world spun and Huck screamed.
“That’s enough,” Alden said. He stepped up to her, even as she blinked past the blinding pain.
“What are you going to do?” Alden’s laugh cut through her fury. “Call for help? Your boyfriend doesn’t even know you’re missing. Face reality, Sierra. No one is coming to save you. You’re alone.”
She stilled, tears streaking down her face. Then, quietly, yes…She lifted her chin. “If I sign this, you let him go.” Sierra’s voice came out steady and hard. “He walks out of here unharmed.”
“I’m afraid that’s not possible. It doesn’t solve any of my problems.” His voice softened. “But I promise his end will be swift.”
“Then I don’t sign.”
Billy pressed the knife deeper, and Huck whimpered. A fresh line of blood welled against the blade. But, oh, her son was brave.
“Last chance. Or he dies in front of you.”
She bit her lip and nodded.