Chapter 15 #2
Another shot punched through the sofa’s leather upholstery, sending stuffing floating through the air. Alden was moving.
“You should be grateful I took you and your mother in.” Alden’s voice had shifted to the left, probably near the windows. “I took care of you.”
Now he was trying to egg Rowan on. Deep breath. No one gets hurt…
Rowan belly-crawled toward the reception desk, staying low as glass shattered somewhere behind him. “Is that what you call breaking a kid’s ribs?”
He popped up from behind the desk, spotting Alden’s silhouette against the window.
There you are.
He picked up a heavy glass paperweight and hurled it with deadly accuracy. It struck the window beside Alden’s head, spider-webbing the glass and sending the older man scrambling for new cover.
“You were mouthy. No respect.”
Rowan moved deeper into the office, using the maze of furniture and equipment to stay hidden. “So that’s your excuse? Only cowards beat up on their kids.”
“Coward?” Alden’s laugh held no humor. “It took sacrifice and courage to build what I have.”
“You mean what I have.”
“No, son. That land is mine. You died. The deed has my name.”
“I don’t care about the land—”
“It belongs to me! Your dad promised me that land!”
Rowan froze. “What—”
“Your father is the liar here. He stole billions from me—or tried to.”
“What are you talking about?” Rowan crawled over, behind a desk.
“Lithium deposits. Billions of dollars’ worth, sitting right under that old house, that land. My land.”
Rowan spotted him moving through the reflection of the front window. You can run, but you can’t hide, Buttercup.
“We had a plan, him and me. We were friends. He had mineral surveys done, geological reports—he just needed the money to start mining. That’s where I came in—we were partners!”
Rowan stilled. “No—that’s not right—”
“And then he died. Stupid man.”
Died. Wait. The pieces clicked into place with sickening clarity. “That’s why you married my mom. Not for love. For the land.”
“Your father cut me out. He never signed the partnership.”
Rowan stilled.
Another shot rang out, this one aimed at the front glass.
It shattered, a waterfall of lethal shards. Rowan ducked behind a table.
“And then he died. And left you and your mom on all that land.”
Rowan’s voice came out deadly quiet. “How long did you wait? A week? A month?”
“She needed help. You both did. She was scared, alone, didn’t know how she’d keep the ranch running.” Alden seemed to believe his own righteousness. “I provided stability. Protection. A future for her and her son.”
“You provided a nightmare.” Rowan spotted movement near the corner office and adjusted his position. “And you terrorized me so I would leave. Never come back.”
“It worked.”
Oh wow. It had.
Not today. Not anymore.
Rowan eased around a filing cabinet, getting closer to Alden’s voice. “So what’s next?”
A shot pinged the filing cabinet. How was he seeing him—
Oh. Cameras peered down at him in corners. The man probably had him on his phone, monitoring his movement.
Rowan picked up a stapler and took out the camera staring at him.
“Next is self-defense. The mayor defending himself against his crazy stepson, who possesses lethal skills. Probable cause, honest threat to life and limb. And not to mention him going a little crazy after watching his woman and child die.”
He’d shimmied across the floor, rolled, spotted Alden squatting next to his desk.
The guy had a clear shot to the door, the hall, the stairway, with too much clutter between Rowan and the space to catch up.
If he didn’t trip him up, Alden would get away.
He dove under a desk and spotted it—a long extension cord. He unplugged it and dragged it to himself.
Might work.
“Yeah, that sounds about right. All except the last part—Sierra and Huck are alive.”
Silence.
“Shame. This is getting messy.”
Breathe. Rowan made a loop, coiled it up, tried it out.
The throw fell short of the intended stapler, but with a little more wrist…
Alden stood up and pointed the gun. Probably to pin him down and make a run for it.
Now or never.
Rowan stood, swung the coil, once, twice, the shot pinging past him—
And threw.
Alden caught the loop and laughed, wrapping his wrist around the length. “What kind of stupid are you?”
This kind.
Rowan yanked, hard, and the movement caught Alden, threw him off-balance, tangled him into the desk enough for Rowan to charge. Alden stumbled forward and his shot went wild as Rowan tackled him around the waist.
Rowan drove them both into the windows that overlooked downtown Renegade.
The glass held, but the impact slammed the breath from Alden’s lungs. Rowan grabbed his wrist and hammered it, once, twice against the glass. The pistol skittered across the floor.
Rowan kneed him, then sent his fist into the man’s face.
Blood erupted in his destroyed nose.
It only incensed Alden. He slammed his fist into Rowan’s gut, but yeah, not a problem. Tried it again, and Rowan grabbed him around the throat with one hand, deflected his arm with the other.
“You destroyed my family,” Rowan snarled, pinning Alden against the window. “You terrorized my mother. You tried to murder my son.”
“I made you strong,” Alden gasped, clawing at Rowan’s hand. “Everything you are, you owe to me.”
“I owe you nothing.”
Rowan’s other hand found Alden’s throat, and—oh, ending it would be so easy. One squeeze. One final payment for twenty years of debt.
“And what about Mack?” Alden wheezed. “What happens to my son when you murder his father?”
The words hit Rowan like cold water. Mack.
His half brother, who’d grown up believing Alden was a good man. Who’d defended him, protected him, loved him despite everything.
I won’t hurt him. The promise he’d made.
Oops. Maybe he should amend that to…I won’t kill him.
But even that…Because Alden’s pale-blue eyes held no remorse, no recognition of the lives he’d destroyed. Only calculation, even now looking for an angle to exploit.
Rowan’s grip tightened.
“Hammer.” Saxon’s voice cut through the red haze. “Breathe.”
Rowan didn’t turn, didn’t release his hold on Alden’s throat, but felt Saxon’s presence as he came into the room—calm, steady, the voice of reason in a situation that had spiraled, yes, beyond his control.
“Does he deserve it?” Saxon asked quietly.
“Yes.”
“But that’s not your job.” Saxon’s footsteps moved closer. “Don’t let your emotions win. This isn’t a military op. You kill him and you destroy your future, and he wins.”
Rowan’s hands shook with the effort of restraint. Alden’s face had turned gray, his hands losing their power.
“This is not your destiny,” Saxon continued. “This is not what you were made for. Don’t let anger win. Don’t let it get a foothold and destroy everything you’ve found.”
Sierra. Huck. The family he’d thought he’d lost forever. The future they could build together if he didn’t throw it away on revenge.
Rowan released Alden’s throat and stepped back, his chest heaving. Alden collapsed against the window, gasping for air.
“Smart choice,” Saxon said, pulling flex-cuffs from his tactical belt. He swept Alden’s feet out from under him, and the man slammed to the floor. He secured Alden’s hands behind his back with practiced efficiency.
“When did you become so well-equipped for civilian law enforcement?” Rowan was still shaking.
“Three YouTube videos and a correspondence course.” He hauled Alden to his feet. “Like I said, I’m very dedicated to my continuing education.”
The sound of sirens rose from the street below.
“That would be Detective Martinelli’s backup units that you ditched.”
“Yeah, well, we needed to have a private conversation. You okay?”
“Scars are cool. Chicks dig ’em.”
Rowan grinned as red and blue lights painted the windows in alternating patterns. A few moments later, the elevator dinged.
Rowan held up his hands, no gun, as SWAT poured in.
“You’re destroying everything your father built,” Alden snarled as Saxon handed him over to police custody.
Rowan met his stepfather’s gaze one final time, seeing not the monster who’d haunted his childhood but a broken man whose greed had poisoned everything he touched.
“Actually,” Rowan said quietly, “I’m saving it.”
Sierra had spent ten years learning not to wait for ghosts, but tonight she sat on her grandfather’s porch doing exactly that.
Here she was again. Waiting. Just like she’d waited for letters that never came, phone calls that never happened, promises that got buried in foreign soil. Except this time, she knew he was alive—somewhere out there, hunting the man who’d tried to destroy them.
But alive didn’t mean safe. And safe didn’t mean coming home.
Especially when Mike had left to answer a call downtown, something about Rowan and Alden and…
Please, Rowan. Come home.
She should go inside, get some sleep, stop acting like some tragic heroine in a romance novel. But what if he needed to see a light in the window? What if he needed to know someone was waiting? What if this time, waiting was actually an act of faith instead of foolishness?
The October night wrapped around her like an old, worn blanket, with the scent of woodsmoke drifting from distant chimneys.
Stars blazed overhead in the clear mountain air, the Milky Way stretching across the darkness in a river of light.
The porch light cast a warm golden circle around her, pushing back the shadows but not the silence.
Sierra pulled the quilt tighter around her shoulders—the one with the blue-and-white wedding ring pattern her grandmother had stitched forty years ago.
The wooden porch swing creaked softly as she shifted her weight, the sound mixing with the distant lowing of cattle and the whisper of wind through the cottonwoods.
Her phone sat silent in her lap. No calls from Saxon. No updates from Mike. No word from Rowan since he’d disappeared into the night with murder in his eyes and justice on his mind.