Chapter 56
EMMA
The weekend is bliss.
Jake and I spend a lot of time in bed, but I manage to get some clothes on and explore Blackthorn some. It’s a beautiful ranch, a bit smaller than the Circle H but with more pastureland.
I have the first small herd of horses brought over, and Jake takes me riding so I can take pictures of the ranch. I also get some great shots of Mason, Luke, and Jake in action and being around each other. They really are a unit, moving in perfect synchronization, their thoughts all aligned.
Jake and I talk—about the past, the present, and the future.
I tell him I don’t want to travel around on assignment as much.
He looks glad about that. He tells me that he and the boys are thinking of starting a consulting business, doing security and “other things.” Mercenary work is how I interpret it.
I’m not an idiot. I know what Jake used to do involved killing people. Hello—special forces. Everyone’s seen those movies. Not to mention he didn’t even bat an eyelash at eliminating Eli Turner.
I don’t know how I feel about that—would they only take out bad guys? But it’s a moot point at the moment, since they’re only discussing options. I did make sure Jake understands I won’t stand for an absentee partner.
What we don’t talk about is the folder I found in Dad’s desk.
Right now, it's pointless to bring it up. Because Eli's truck hasn't been found, everyone's assuming Eli took off for a bit. No one's come around to pester Jake about him. I'm hoping all this will just die down, and we can get on with life.
But just in case, I make lunch plans with Harper to ask her about the investigation.
Jake's handling the installation of my new security system—yeah, we reached a détente over the weekend on that—so he doesn't make much of a fuss when I tell him I'm going out.
The Iron Ridge Diner smells like coffee and bacon grease, the kind of place that hasn't changed its menu or its decor since the eighties.
Harper's already in our usual booth when I arrive, her curly brown hair tamed into a neat bun, her deputy's uniform crisp despite having been on duty since early morning.
She grins when she sees me, sliding out to give me a quick hug. "There she is. I was starting to think you'd stood me up."
"Never." I slide into the booth across from her, grabbing a menu even though we both know what we're ordering. "Just got caught up with some ranch stuff."
She arches her brow, leaning against the back. "Ranch stuff? Is that what they’re calling it these days?"
My cheeks flush, but I'm saved from answering when Martha—she's owned the diner for the past fifteen years—appears with a pot of coffee. "The usual, ladies?"
"Please."
She pours two cups and disappears.
Harper wastes no time. "So which ranch are you caught up with? The Circle H or Blackthorn?"
I bat my eyes, playing innocent.
"Oh please." She waves a hand. "Everyone knows you spent the weekend with Callahan."
I frown as I stir sugar into my coffee. "How do they know that?"
"You have gabby ranch hands." She tips her head. “And then there’s my dad, who went to talk to Jake and found you there.”
Right. I wince. “About that…”
Harper plays with a stirrer stick, tapping it against the table. “You didn’t tell me you were there when I texted.”
“It’s new,” I say honestly. I shrug. “I’d have kept it under wraps longer if I could have.”
She stares at me like she’s weighing my words. Then she smirks and waggles her eyebrows. "So? Details, woman. And don't you dare say 'it's good' and leave it at that.”
Even though I’m relieved she let it go, heat creeps up my neck. "It's really good, actually."
"Emma." She leans forward, her voice dropping. "I need you to understand something. Jake Callahan seems like the kind of man who makes women do stupid things. Please tell me that’s true so I can have hope for myself.”
"It’s true," I assure her, my lips quirking.
"Thank God." She studies me, her expression serious. "Because if you weren’t doing stupid things with a man like that, I’d have to question your sanity.”
“I question my sanity enough for both of us.” I raise my cup to take a sip.
She sits back. "But I should tell you that if he ever hurts you, I will shoot him myself, and then you’ll have to help hide the body."
"Noted." Uh, a little close to home. "But I don't think that's going to be necessary."
"Good. Because Dad doesn’t like him at all."
This is my in. “Your dad doesn’t still suspect Jake of anything, does he?”
Before Harper can say a word, Martha comes back with our orders—a cheeseburger for Harper and a Cobb salad for me.
My friend waits until Martha is well away before leaning in and lowering her voice.
“Emma, if you’re about to ask me about Eli Turner, you should think real hard about whether you want the answer. ”
My fork stills halfway to my mouth. “That sounds like you’re telling me to back away.”
Harper doesn’t touch her burger. She just watches me, steady and unreadable. “It sounds like me telling you to stay out of something that’s already gotten one person killed.”
My heart stops, thinking she means Eli. But the look on her face makes me realize that’s not who she’s talking about. I glance around to make sure no one’s listening before I whisper, “My dad?”
She shakes her head. “I didn’t say that.”
“But you didn’t not say it either.” I lean forward, pulse climbing. “If his brakes were messed with, if someone did something—”
“Emma.” She exhales, clutching the edge of the table, visibly getting herself back under control. Meeting me toward the center of the table, she whispers, “You don’t have proof. And neither does my dad.”
“But you think it.” I study her. “You think something’s up.”
Her jaw tightens.
That’s answer enough.
She points at me. “You stay out of it. If there’s a connection, and I’m not saying there is, you poking around won’t help. It will make you a target. You lucked out that Eli disappeared.”
That isn’t luck. That’s love—Jake’s love.
The door to the diner opens, and I hear Martha call out a greeting to whoever just walked in. I don’t look up because I'm focused on Harper, on the way her jaw tightens when she glances past my shoulder.
"Oh shit," she mutters.
I turn to glance toward the entrance, and my stomach drops.
Cole Turner.