Chapter 1
ONE
CARSON
“Have you been down here all fuckin’ night?”
I must have dozed off, because Austin’s voice pulls me out of sleep quickly, and I stand to my feet, fists ready to fight.
“What the fuck, man. It’s me,” he says, putting a hand on my shoulder. “Calm down. No reason to fight me.”
It takes me longer than I’d like to admit to stop my heart from pounding in my chest. Since Noah took me hostage, I haven’t been the same. Things that never made me worry are now putting me on edge. “Sorry, didn’t expect to see you.”
Austin doesn’t get too close, but he looks me directly in the eyes. “Let’s start with what the fuck you’re doing sleeping down here, and why Lennon Walsh is in your bed.”
Rubbing a hand over my face, I groan. “She was pulled over on the side of the road, headed out to Grizzly River, and had a flat tire. I stopped to help her, and while we were out, someone fucking shot at us.”
“At you, or at her?” Austin asks, having a seat beside me, but far enough away so that he’s not crowding me.
“To be determined, but I think it was at her. She was spooked hardcore, mentioned that she’s been working with Shawn on a big case.”
Austin runs a hand through his hair. “Did she mention what that case is?”
“No, but to be honest, by the time we got here, both of us were coming down from the adrenaline. All she wanted was to close her eyes, and I was the same. The crash was difficult.” I don’t mention that it’s been the same for me since everything that happened with Noah.
No one knows how I’ve been handling it because I’m not telling them.
“So anyway, that’s why I’m down here, and she’s up there. Any other questions?”
He grins. “How long do you plan on having her stay here?”
Good question. I’ve learned to trust my gut since I got old enough to know what the hell my family was doing to keep a roof over our heads and food on the table.
Right now, my gut is telling me that Lennon Walsh is in danger, and until I figure out exactly what kind, she’s not going anywhere without me.
“As long as it takes to figure out who the hell was shooting at us last night.”
Austin’s grin fades, replaced by the serious expression he wears when shit gets real. “You want me to call Shawn? Get some answers?”
“Not yet.” I push off the couch, stretching out the kinks in my back from sleeping on furniture that’s seen better days. “I want to talk to her first. See what she knows.”
“And if she won’t tell you?”
I meet his eyes. “Then I’ll make some calls myself.”
Austin nods, standing up. “Fair enough. I’ll be over at the Grizzly River in the barn if you need me. Jesse’s got a meeting with the contractor about the new fence line, so I’m covering morning feed.”
“Appreciate it.”
He heads toward the door, then stops and turns back. “Carson? Be careful with this one. I don’t know what’s going on, but if someone is taking shots at people close to our property, that’s a problem for all of us.”
“I know.”
After Austin leaves, I stand in the quiet of the living room for a moment, listening to the sounds of everyone waking up around me. In the distance, I can hear Devlin leaving his house, and the settling of ours. These are everyday sounds, what are supposed to be safe sounds.
But nothing feels safe anymore.
I head upstairs, taking them two at a time despite the exhaustion pulling at my bones.
Outside my bedroom door, I pause with my hand on the knob.
Part of me doesn’t want to go in there, doesn’t want to see a woman in my bed.
It’s been a long time since I’ve shared my space with anyone, and even longer since I’ve wanted to.
But this isn’t about want. This is about keeping someone close to our family safe.
I push open the door as quietly as I can, and the sight that greets me stops me in my tracks.
Lennon is curled up on her side, one hand tucked under my pillow, her dark hair fanned out across the white pillowcase.
The morning sun streaming through the window catches the auburn highlights I didn’t notice last night and makes her skin look like cream and honey.
She’s peaceful now. She wasn’t when we crashed through my front door last night, when we were terrified, and her eyes were wide, her hands shaking.
My pillow. She’s sleeping on my pillow, and seeing that hits me square in the chest.
I shake my head, pushing away whatever the hell that feeling is. She’s a woman who needs help, nothing more. And I’m a man who’s apparently still fucked up enough from my own trauma that I’m sleeping on the couch in my own house.
“Lennon,” I say, keeping my voice low. “Time to wake up.”
She doesn’t stir, not even a little bit. I don’t want to scare her.
I move closer to my bed, and that’s when I notice the gun on my nightstand. A Glock 19, from what I can tell. So she’s armed. Good. At least she’s not completely helpless. She’s doing better than I am.
“Lennon,” I try again, a little louder this time.
Still nothing.
Against my better judgment, I reach out and touch her shoulder. “Hey, we need to—”
She moves so fast I barely have time to register it. One second she’s asleep, the next she’s got that Glock pointed directly at my chest, her eyes wild and unfocused.
“Whoa,” I say, raising both hands. “It’s me. Carson. You’re safe.”
It takes her a few seconds to process that it’s me, her chest heaving with rapid breaths. Then recognition floods her features, and she lowers the gun, her hands trembling. “Fuck. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be.” I lower my hands slowly, keeping my movements deliberate. “I get it. Someone shoots at you, your nerves are gonna be on edge.” If anyone knows, it’s me.
She sets the gun back on the nightstand and pushes her hair out of her face. In the morning light, I can see the dark circles under her eyes, the way her lips are pressed tight with tension. “What time is it?”
“Little after seven.”
“I need to get ready. Atlee must be wondering where the fuck I am. I haven’t even checked in with her.
” She starts to get out of bed, then seems to remember she’s still wearing her clothes from last night.
She’s rumpled and creased, but somehow it doesn’t make her look any less put together.
There’s something about Lennon Walsh that screams city girl, even when she’s slept in her clothes and been shot at.
“Not until you tell me what’s going on.”
She pauses, her feet on the floor, and looks up at me. “Excuse me?”
“Someone shot at us last night. Near my family’s land. That makes it my business.”
“It was probably just hunters.”
“Bullshit.” I cross my arms over my chest. “You and I both know that wasn’t hunters. Hunters don’t shoot at people changing tires on the side of the road at dusk. Try again.”
Her jaw tightens, and I watch the walls go up behind her eyes. “I appreciate you helping me last night. I really do. But this isn’t your problem.”
“Like hell it isn’t. Those bullets could have just as easily hit me as you.”
“But they didn’t.”
“By pure luck.” I take a step closer, then stop myself. She’s already on edge, already scared. Crowding her isn’t going to get me anywhere. I have to think about this as if I’m talking to myself. “Look, you said you’re working with Shawn on a case. What kind of case?”
“I can’t tell you that.”
Tilting my head to the side, I stare at her. “Can’t or won’t?”
“Both.” She stands up, smoothing down her shirt. “Attorney-client privilege. You know how it works.”
“This isn’t about privilege. This is about someone trying to kill you.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Don’t I?” I study her face, looking for any crack in that professional armor she’s wearing. “You’re a paralegal from the city, driving out to the middle of nowhere. Then someone takes shots at you when you get a flat tire. You gonna tell me those things aren’t connected?”
She meets my eyes, and for just a second, I see it. The fear. It’s bone-deep fear that she’s trying desperately to hide. “I need to get to work.”
“Your tire is still flat.”
That stops her. “What?”
“Your car is still on the side of the road where we left it last night, with a flat tire. And even if it wasn’t, you think I’m just gonna let you drive out there alone after what happened?”
“Let me?” Her voice goes sharp, as if she can’t believe I want to protect her. She gets haughty, but I love the way her eyes narrow toward me. “You don’t let me do anything, Carson. I’m not some damsel in distress who needs a cowboy to save her.”
“Could’ve fooled me, considering you were the one with the flat tire and someone shooting at you, not twelve hours ago.”
Those eyes flash hot with anger. Normally, they are a light green, but right now? They’re dark. “That’s not fair.”
“Maybe not, but it’s true.” I soften my voice slightly, approaching her like I would a cow or calf who’s frightened. “Look, I’m not trying to be an asshole here. I’m just trying to keep you safe.”
“I don’t need you to keep me safe.”
She says the words so matter-of-factly that I know she believes it, but I have something to point out to her, and I’m interested to hear what she’s going to say. “Then why did you sleep with your gun on the nightstand?”
That hits home. I can see it in the way her shoulders tense, the way her fingers curl into fists at her sides. “That’s none of your business.”
“Everything that happens near this ranch is my business.” I run a hand through my hair, frustration building in my chest. “You want to keep your secrets? Fine. But you’re not leaving here alone. I’ll drive you to town myself.”
“I don’t need an escort.”
“Too bad. You’re getting one anyway.”
We stare at each other for a long moment, and I can practically see the wheels turning in her head.
She’s weighing her options, trying to figure out if she can get past me and out the door before I stop her.
And trust me, I’d love to stop her. I would love to feel the way she’d fight my hold as I try to keep her inside my room.
Good luck with that, sweetheart.
Finally, she sighs. “Fine. But we leave in ten minutes.”
“Take twenty. You need coffee. I need to change and brush my teeth. If you need a toothbrush, I can find one for you.”
“Ten,” she insists.
“Fifteen, and that’s my final offer. You look like you could use some breakfast too.”
“I don’t eat breakfast.”
“You do today.” I’m pushing my luck, and I know it, but there’s something about the way she gets a haughty look in her eyes the longer I tell her what to do.
She glares at me. “You’re very bossy for someone who slept on his own couch last night.”
“Yeah, well, we all have our issues. You sleep with a gun next to you. I sleep on the couch. Maybe one day we’ll talk about it.”
Awareness flickers across her face at those words, like she knows exactly what kind of issues I’m talking about, because she’s got her own.
“Fifteen minutes,” she finally agrees. “But then we’re leaving, with or without breakfast.”
“Deal.”
I head toward the door, then pause with my hand on the frame.
“Lennon? Whatever you’re running from, whatever case you’re working on, it’s gonna catch up to you eventually.
You can keep your secrets for now, but you might want to think about who you trust when the shit really hits the fan.
There’s a new toothbrush under the sink. ”
She doesn’t say anything. She just watches me with those sharp eyes that definitely see way too much.
I leave her to get ready, heading downstairs to the kitchen. My hands are shaking slightly as I pull down the coffee mugs, and I curse under my breath. This is exactly what I didn’t need—more complications and another reason to look over my shoulder.
But as I start the coffee maker and listen to Lennon moving around upstairs, I know one thing for certain.
I’m not letting her walk into whatever danger she’s facing alone.
Even if she won’t tell me a damn thing about it.