Chapter 102
EMMA
Jake and Luke drive me home. Mason rides Smoke back. They’re downstairs, going through the pictures on my camera. I came upstairs to shower.
I'm sitting on the edge of Jake's bed when he finally comes in, my hair still damp, wearing one of his T-shirts and nothing else. My hands are shaking. They haven't stopped shaking since we got back.
The door closes behind him with a quiet click.
He doesn't say anything at first. Just stands there, looking at me with unreadable deep-blue eyes. I can see the tension in his shoulders, the way his jaw is locked tight.
"I'm sorry," I say, my voice breaking on the words.
He moves then—crosses the room in three strides and drops to his knees in front of me, his hands gripping my thighs. "Don't."
"I should have told you." The words tumble out in a rush.
"I should have told you I was going to check out the north ridge. I should have told you about my dad’s evidence folder, about what he documented, about—" My breath hitches as it bottlenecks in my throat.
"I lied to you. I snuck out. I put your life in danger.
Mason's. Luke's. All three of you could have been killed tonight because I—"
"Emma." His voice is rough, commanding. "Stop."
Tears burning my eyes, I shake my head. "I can't keep secrets from you. Not anymore. Tonight proved that for so many reasons. If I keep things from you, I put all of you at risk. I need you to trust me, and I need to trust you, and that means—"
"I know what it means." He stands, pulling me up with him, his hands framing my face. "And you're right. No more secrets. Not between us. So I need to tell you that we found you tonight because I’d installed a tracker on your phone."
My mouth drops. I want to find fault with him—I know I should be really pissed—but I also realize that if he hadn’t done that I’d probably be in a crate right now going to the highest bidder. “You’ll uninstall it and never do that again?”
“I can’t promise that.” He kisses my forehead gently. “Not when it means I can’t find you if you need me.”
I heave a sigh. “Damn it.”
The corner of his mouth kicks up.
Score one for Jake. But also, score one for me, because I picked Jake to be mine. "Did you look at the photos?"
"Yeah." His thumb brushes across my cheekbone. "Trafficking is a serious crime, Emma. Federal level. We'll handle it, but we can't just run to the sheriff with the evidence."
"Why not?"
"Because we don't know who's compromised.
We don't know how deep this goes—if there's law enforcement involved, federal agents, trafficking networks across state lines.
" His eyes are steady on mine. "I’ll make this right, but we can’t go in half-cocked.
We need strategy, not panic. We need to assess the risk before we make a move. "
The weight of that settles over me. "Okay."
"And it's not just you anymore." His voice drops, his hands sliding down to my waist. "If you're not pregnant yet, you will be soon."
My breath catches. "Jake—"
"Our baby, Emma." His grip tightens. "We're getting married. That's not a question. That's a fact."
"I know." Tears spill over, hot and fast, but I can’t help but smile. My man, the romantic.
"Do you?" He leans in, his forehead pressing against mine.
"Because when I came to get you and you were gone, when I realized you'd snuck out, that you were riding toward something most law officers can’t handle—" His voice cracks.
"I thought I'd lose you. I thought something would happen to you, and I wouldn't get there in time to stop it. "
"I'm sorry," I whisper. "I'm so sorry."
"I love you." The words are raw, desperate. "I love you so fucking much it terrifies me. And I can't, I will not, lose you."
"You won't." I wrap my arms around his neck, pulling him closer. "Not ever."
He kisses me then—hard and possessive and full of everything he can't say. His hands slide under the T-shirt, lifting it over my head, and then I'm bare before him.
"I need you." His voice is rough as he strips off his own shirt and his jeans. "I need to feel you. I need to know you're safe."
He lays me back on the bed, his body covering mine, and the weight of him—the solid, undeniable reality of him—makes me sob.
"I've got you," he murmurs against my mouth. "I've got you, baby. You're safe."
When he pushes inside me, it's slow and deep and so tender it breaks something open in my chest. I cry as he moves, as he whispers promises against my skin—promises about our future, about the life we're building, about the family we'll have.
He makes love to me like he's trying to bind me to him—body and soul. Like he's pouring every ounce of his possessive devotion into me, claiming me in ways that go beyond the physical.
And I let him.
Because I'm his now. Completely. Irrevocably.
For better or worse.
When we finally collapse together, breathless and spent, he pulls me against his chest and holds me like he'll never let go.
"I love you," I whisper, holding him tight.
"I love you too." His lips press against my hair. “But if I weren’t so relieved to have you back and whole, I’d bend you over my knees and spank you until you couldn’t sit on another horse for a month.”
“Kinky.” I chuckle against his skin, exhausted and overwhelmed and so full of love I can barely breathe.
My life has changed. Fundamentally. Irrevocably. And my choices—my secrets, my lies, my independence—they don't just affect me. They affect the man I love. The men who protect me. The family we're building.
So no more secrets.
Just trust.
And love.
And Jake's arms around me, keeping me safe.