Chapter 53 Louise
LOUISE
The sharp crack of gunfire split the air, making Ryder veer sharply to the right as we pulled up the long driveway.
He didn’t say a word—just reached for the gun at his hip and placed it on his lap, fingers curling around the grip with instinctual ease. His jaw was locked tight, eyes scanning the tree line as he turned onto the gravel path that ran along the edge of the field.
“Someone’s at the range,” he muttered, more to himself than to me.
“Who?” I asked, my heart climbing into my throat. “You said you locked up your guns.”
“I did.” His voice was clipped. Controlled. But something in his expression flickered—concern, or maybe something closer to dread.
As we crested the bend in the road, a lone figure came into view. Gun in hand. Back to us. Calmly lining up another shot.
The figure pulled the trigger.
Another shot rang out.
“That’s Austin,” I said, squinting through the windshield. Tall, lean frame. Dark leather jacket. “Pretty sure, anyway.”
Ryder didn’t ease up on the gas.
Only when Austin turned toward the sound of the truck and lowered the weapon did Ryder slow. His hand didn’t leave the gun until we came to a full stop.
“Mornin’,” Austin called, eyes briefly flicking to Ryder’s hip. “Didn’t mean to spook you. Saw the targets yesterday when we pulled up. Figured I’d try ’em out.”
“You pick the lock?” Ryder asked coolly.
Austin smirked, holding up the weapon by the barrel as if to prove he meant no harm. “Sig P938. My own. Brought it from home. Goes with me everywhere.”
Ryder stepped out, took the gun, checked the chamber, and fired off three clean shots at the target before nodding in approval. “Smooth pull.”
“I’ve always liked the feel. Lightweight. Reliable.”
I tried to steady my breathing, watching them. Two men, both military, both trained, both too calm. The kind of calm that’s hard-earned—or carefully faked.
“Where’s everyone else?” I asked, not liking how dry my voice sounded.
Austin turned toward me. “Miles is still out cold. Margie’s down by the barn. Said she wanted to ‘pet your pretty horses.’ We’ll be outta your hair soon. She wants to wait until the ice melts a little more, but if Miles doesn’t wake up, I’ll drive us. I’m ready to get back.”
His gaze drifted briefly to the treeline—just enough to make my skin prickle.
Ryder gave a curt nod, offering, “You’re welcome to stay as long as you’d like.”
Austin smiled again. “Appreciate that. Hell of a place you’ve got out here.”
“Yeah,” Ryder said flatly.
We left him there, still clutching the Sig, lining up another shot.
Ryder didn’t say a word until we were almost back to the house.
Then, suddenly, he hit the brakes.
I jolted forward, bracing myself against the dash. “What—”
I followed Ryder’s line of sight.
Liberty.
The horse was walking alone along the edge of the woods, still fully saddled.
“I guess Margie took him for a ride,” I said, though the words sounded wrong even as I said them.
“And abandoned him in the woods?” Ryder’s voice was low, hard. “He’s not in a pasture.”
A chill slithered up my spine, like a warning bell quietly tolling.
We locked eyes. Both of us felt it—that invisible tension suddenly tightening like a noose.
Ryder hit the gas.
“Check the house,” he ordered, voice clipped. “See if Margie’s there. I’ll check the barn.”
“Okay.”
I bolted out of the truck as soon as it skidded to a stop, sprinting through the front door. My pulse thundered in my ears as I tore through every room—the kitchen, the den, even the library and observation room.
Nothing.
Miles was still passed out on the couch, snoring.
But no sign of Margie.
Panic bloomed in my chest.
I flew back outside just as Ryder appeared from the barn, his boots crunching against the gravel. He shook his head grimly.
“Margie’s not in there,” he said. “But she was. Saddle’s warm. She took Liberty out.”
My gaze darted to the woods. Thick, endless wilderness surrounded his property—miles of rock and underbrush, winding trails that split off in every direction. There was no telling how far she could’ve gone… or why Liberty had returned without her.
I pulled my phone from my pocket with trembling fingers. “I’ll call her.”
“No reception, remember?” Ryder reminded me sharply.
“Dammit.”
He turned toward the stables. “We need to saddle up. We’ll start searching from where Liberty showed up—gives us a trailhead, at least.”
“What about Austin?”
Ryder’s jaw clenched. “Ask if he’s seen her. If not, tell him to put up his damn gun before he accidentally shoots one of us—and then saddle up. He’s helping.”
I nodded, already sprinting back toward the range, a sick knot twisting in my gut.
Something wasn’t right.
Margie was gone, and a saddled horse had come back alone.
And at the range, Austin was still target shooting in the woods, without a care in the world.