39
M y boots crunch gravel as I hop out of my pickup truck and head toward the bright lights of the Bullshit Box. Keena prances proudly beside me, even if tonight was a waste of time and manpower.
It took an hour to get over to Briar Gorge, only to discover there was no one there. No parents. Definitely no kid. Richter and the deputies stayed behind in case they showed. Maybe the parents found their son. Maybe they forgot to call it back in.
Regardless, I needed to get back to Dakota.
As I enter the Bullshit Box, I let out a tense breath. Home.
“You find the kid?” Charlie asks, angled into the dartboard, scrutinizing his target. Aiden King’s photo has a dart sticking in the middle of his forehead.
“Nope.” I settle in at my desk, unholster my gun, and take a quick breather. My gaze scans Wyatt, who’s reclined in a busted folding chair. Keena goes to her water bowl as I open my phone and check the tracker. The GPS still shows Dakota at Fallon’s.
“No one was there. Think it was a prank call,” I say, rolling out my shoulders. “I’m dropping off Keena, then I’m headed back out.”
“That’s real shitty, man,” Wyatt drawls, standing. “Who’d lie about a goddamn kid going missing?”
Something cold settles in my gut.
Wyatt plucks his beer off the desk, takes a long swig, and flings a dart at King.
He hoots in victory. “Right between the fuckin’ eyes.”
The door opens, and Ford enters. He leans back against the wall and stares the dart board for a long second, then looks at Wyatt. “Really takin’ it all out on Fallon’s guy, ain’t you?”
My head snaps up. “Say that again.”
Ford frowns. “That ass-face on the dartboard.” His amber eyes flick apologetically to Wyatt. “Saw him and Fallon the other day at the Legion.” He holds up his hands. “Don’t shoot the messenger.”
The room spins. My stomach’s turned into an iceberg.
I launch myself out of my chair. “Fuck.”
“Davis?” Charlie’s voice cuts through the red fog in my head.
My brothers are staring at me like I’m a madman.
“Fallon’s boyfriend—it’s Dakota’s ex. It’s Aiden.” I barely recognize my voice.
Wyatt and Ford share a wide-eyed look.
I grab my gun off the desk. Whip my head to Charlie. “Stay with Ruby. Don’t let her out of your sight.”
And then I run. Dread and desperation searing my chest like a red-hot iron.
The missing kid—it was a prank call. A decoy to get me away from Dakota. I fell for it. I left her there alone. Unprotected.
I fucked up.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
The world’s a dark blur of fury as I race across the ranch and hop into my truck, dialing Dakota at the same time. She doesn’t pick up. I fly down the highway, praying I’m not too late. Praying I’m wrong.
I’m not.
Fallon’s cottage comes into view, and my stomach tumbles. I pull up to the curb and brake hard, sending up dust and gravel, staring at the scene that greets me.
Red and blue lights illuminate the night. Richter’s out front, along with half the damn town. Buzz Topper lies on the front lawn. Dead. Glassy eyes wide, a deep pool of red beneath him.
Out of the front door of the cottage comes a stretcher.
“Stede!” I yell, blasting out of my truck. No one tries to stop me as I race up to him. His hand lifts to me and I grip it. “What happened?”
“Bastard came to the house. The girls didn’t know—” He breaks off in a cough. “Shot me in the damn leg. He took them,” he says, voice stricken. Tears line his eyes. “That motherfucker took my girls.”
“We’ll find them.”
“I’m sorry,” he groans. “I didn’t protect them. I couldn’t—”
“This is my fault. I never should have left.” I close my eyes and let panic wash over me.
Dakota’s words of warning wreak havoc on my mind. Aiden plays the long game.
And he did. Bided his time. Waited. And now…
Time’s up.
“He’s going to hurt them. I heard what he said.” Stede struggles to sit up. “You find my girls, Davis.”
“I will,” I grit out. Guilt has me in a stranglehold. I promised Stede I’d protect Dakota and Fallon. Now both his daughters are missing.
If I have to tear this entire fucking town apart to find them, I will.
Tires squeal on the street and car doors slam. I turn in time to see Wyatt leap out of his pickup and bolt up the steps to Fallon’s cottage. Ford on his heels.
“Wyatt, wait!” I roar after him. The house isn’t secure. Christ.
I leave Stede with the paramedics and race after my brothers who are already inside.
“Fallon!” Wyatt shouts, his voice raw and ragged. He looks desperate as his panicked gaze scans the living room.
“Stay the fuck back,” I snap, grabbing him by the shirt collar and moving him away from the crime scene. My mind’s a mess, and the panic on my little brother’s face isn’t helping.
The color drains from Wyatt’s face. His gaze falls to the rug. “Fuck. Is that—”
Ford grabs him and spins him around before he can see more.
I take in the carnage. Broken glass. Popcorn. The tracker in a cup of tea. A pool of blood spread across the rug.
Fuck.
Time stops. The only sound I hear is my heart pounding in my ears. Nothing else.
Dakota.
I can’t breathe. Can’t focus.
I didn’t protect her. I failed her. I fucking let him take her.
“Montgomery!” Richter’s voice booms like a grenade as he stomps inside the cottage.
I spin around. Fight through the fog in my head to focus. “Tell me what’s going on.”
“We got a witness. Gertie Dump, two houses over, said she saw a man leaving the residence about twenty minutes ago. He was carrying one. Made the other walk. Looked like he had a gun.”
“Fuck,” Ford hisses.
Wyatt drops onto the couch, hands permanently glued to his hair.
Richter continues. “Guy got in a dark blue Mercedes and drove off in a southerly direction. No plate numbers yet.”
Alive.
For once in my life, I’ve never been so happy for small town gossip.
“King’s been here all along,” I say, piecing together what I’ve gathered so far. “Flying in on the weekends to date Fallon. To watch Dakota. He couldn’t get on the ranch, so he waited.”
Richter stares at me like I’ve announced aliens have landed. Then he shakes his head. “We’ll find her, Montgomery. Now, out.”
With that, I reach down and slip the dog tag into my pocket. I walk out of the house and onto the porch. Humid air mists my skin, the sleepy street of Resurrection cast in shadow.
Bending over, I put my hands on my knees and concentrate on breathing. On not burning the entire goddamn world to the ground.
My son and the woman I love kidnapped. Taken.
The thought of losing both, an all-encompassing nightmare.
I squeeze my eyes shut.
I won’t be too late. This won’t be like Sully.
Footsteps behind me have me exhaling and straightening up.
“Deep breath, brother.” Ford puts a hand on my shoulder, squeezes. “Don’t fall apart. Dakota needs you.”
Wyatt stares at me. His face so pleading, I fucking hate myself. “Where are they, Davis?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know fucking anything.” My voice is ragged, my heart on its last fucking thread.
Where would King take them? Where has he been staying this entire fucking time where there aren’t eyes on him?
As I stomp down the front porch steps, my attention zeros in on the rock path. A candy wrapper. I frown, sinking down into a squat to pick it up. Red hot cinnamon candies.
“Yours?” I ask Ford.
“Nah, man.”
My heart stops.
I’ve seen these before. The same place I told Dakota I loved her. The spot we picked to raise our son. Build our future.
I reach into my pocket and pull out the trash I picked up earlier today.
A goddamn fucking candy wrapper.
Eden.
My heart starts.
I launch myself up. “I know where they are.”
I’m moving fast for my truck. I need to get there and find my girl, my son, and kill the motherfucker that took them.
“I’m coming with you,” Wyatt announces.
I stop and glare at him. “You get your ass back to the ranch and stay there.” The last thing I need is my idiot brother playing hero.
Wyatt crosses his arms and squares off with me. “Fuck that, Davis.”
Ford gives a nod of solidarity. “He’s right. Fuck that. And if I can add, fuck you.”
I stare into my twin’s blazing eyes. He won’t take no for an answer and he won’t leave me.
“For fuck’s sake,” I mutter. I scrape a hand over my scalp. “Let’s go.”
Ford grins. “Looks like the three of us are playing cowboy mafia.”
I don’t waste time arguing. My boots hit the ground as I break into a jog.
Ford appears beside me. His voice is low, dangerous. “You find him, this ain’t going to court.”
A lawlessness, cold and unforgiving, rises in me.
“No,” I growl. “It’s not.”