Chapter Eighteen Blaze
Chapter Eighteen
Blaze
It’s only been three fucking days, but it feels like a lifetime since I last saw Savannah. Since I tasted her lips, tinged with lemon and sugar, since she moaned into my mouth, since she writhed against my cock like the greedy little vixen she’s become.
Scraping a hand down the front of my face, I stare up at the house.
Each night since that kiss, I’ve sat outside her place like a damn lovesick stalker.
But even though I tell myself it’s because of the warnings Nash hit me with last time I saw him .
. . and that picture of Savvie tucked under my windshield .
. . I’m afraid to stay away. Afraid I already put her in too much danger.
From where I’m parked, I can see her move through the house. It’s almost nine o’clock, so she’s already shut off the lights downstairs.
Fucking Nash. If he was so worried about Savannah, he should be staying here at the house with her. But I haven’t seen or heard anything about him in days.
And while I know she’d be better off with someone staying here, I’m sure glad that vet hasn’t shown up for a nightcap.
My eyes fall to the container on the seat next to me.
She packed it pretty full of scones, and I’ve slowly made my way through it, knowing after she took off from the barn like she’d stepped on a hive of wasps, it’d be a long time before I got any more.
I pull off the lid, and my stomach rumbles at the sweet, sugary smells that hit the air.
I sink my teeth into the crumbly pastry, the combined flavors of vanilla, lemon, and tart blueberry making me moan.
“So fucking good,” I mutter, finishing one off in two bites.
Savannah always had a flair for baking. It’s like you could taste her love and care in each bite, which somehow made everything even better than it would be normally.
I stare at her bedroom window. 8:58, 8:59, 9:00. She flips off the light switch.
I grab my rifle and quietly step out of the truck.
Heading up the driveway, I move stealthily between the trees, ducking in and out of the shadows.
Crickets bleep, piercing the still night air.
Gravel crunches under my boots as I slowly make my way around the perimeter of the house, checking doors and windows to make sure everything is locked tight and secured.
Grasses rustle behind me, and I jump, flipping around with the barrel of the gun pointed into the darkness. My pulse thrums as I creep in the direction of the sound. Sweat prickles my skin. I step farther away from the house, deeper into the grasses.
“Blaze . . .”
A gasp catches in my throat. I clutch the rifle, my finger sliding over the trigger.
“Blaze, what the hell are you doing? You can’t be here alone.”
The rifle shakes.
Liam’s face floats into my view. “I’m not letting you handle this mission alone. We’re brothers, remember?”
A loud squeal grates against my ears, and something scurries past me. My shoulders slump when I catch a look at it. Fucking possum.
I drop to my knees and stare up at the inky sky, the rifle slipping from my grip.
Brothers. We were brothers.
“Fuck,” I whisper, bringing my hands to my face. I think of Liam’s young wife and baby daughter a lot, how their lives are forever changed because of what happened.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I grab it, tempted to hurl it into a tree when I see Wilkerson’s name flash across my screen. He’s probably gonna bust my balls about why the place isn’t falling down around her right now.
I finally stab the Accept button. “Yeah?”
“Blaze, I need you to come out to my place in Oak Ridge. Now.”
“I’m just about to head home. Been a long day.” I straighten up, gazing up at Savannah’s bedroom window. At least she’s safely tucked away up there.
“It’s not optional. Your father and Colton are here, as are a few of my other associates. I want you here too.”
“Look, we already agreed that I was done once my work at Red Rock is finished. The debt is paid. Whatever ‘business’ you’ve got with my dad and Colt doesn’t involve me. I’m doing what you want. There’s no reason for me to be there tonight. I’m not one of your fucking lackeys. Not anymore.”
“The fact that I have you by your throat right now is a clear indicator that you’re still my lackey. And you’ll do what I say, or once you leave your night watchman post, I’ll make sure your girlfriend is violated six ways from Sunday. Are we clear?”
My fingers grip the phone tight. There’s nobody here. He can’t know where I am right now.
I should do the world a favor and bring my rifle as a plus-one tonight, then blow his fucking head off.
“Fine,” I say, teeth clenched tight. “I’m on my way.” I end the call and stuff my phone back into my pocket, stalking to my truck.
Oak Ridge is about a twenty-minute drive from Whiskey Creek.
His estate is large and sprawling with an entry gate and a driveway that feels about five miles long. I drive past a barn, silos, and fenced-in pastures before the main house even comes into view. A group of trucks is parked outside. My stomach knots when I see Dad’s F-350.
I’ve managed to avoid him over the past few days by working alongside our ranch hands, starting early and ending late. But there’s no avoiding him tonight. Even the sight of him makes my blood boil.
Squaring my shoulders, I walk to the front door and stab the doorbell.
Wilkerson answers. He pulls open the door with one hand, a glass in his other. “Blaze, so glad you could join us.”
Colt’s head pops up when I walk in behind Wilkerson, his face draining of all color. His lips pull into a tight line, white-hot daggers shooting from his eyes. My father doesn’t bother with a greeting, just scoffs when he sees me step into the dining room.
“. . . my other son . . . don’t know why he’s here . . . Colton will be Wilkerson’s contact . . .”
I grit my teeth, pretending not to hear my father’s muttered words to the guy on his right as I sweep my eyes over the faces staring back at me. I don’t recognize any of them, but then again, I’ve been out of this game for years. And Wilkerson’s organization has a pretty big turnover.
Wilkerson hands me a drink and motions for me to sit down. Right next to him.
Colt’s glare practically burns a hole into me, but it’s not like I have a choice. I’d rather shove a fire poker into my eye than be this close to Wilkerson, but right now, my life isn’t my own. It’s his. And I need to play his game.
There’s a lot of talk about problem properties and distribution networks. Shit that sounds vague if you don’t know to read between the lines.
“We’re expanding distribution routes through the northern corridor. But we need reliable transport,” Wilkerson says.
Dad pipes in. “What about using propane-delivery routes? Easy to fly under the radar.”
My lips twist like I just tasted shit. Last time we tried to leverage a propane-delivery company as a distribution network, Savvie’s parents and uncle were killed.
“Idaho connection has been pretty reliable,” another associate says. “We can leverage that first.”
Wilkerson eyes me for a long minute. “Meet me in my office in a few minutes. End of the hall to the right.”
I shove the chair back and stand up. Nobody notices because they’re all too busy kissing the ring.
I leave the dining room and head toward the hallway off the dining room.
The dark wood makes me feel like the walls are closing in on me, like there’s nowhere for me to run and hide because he will always find me.
Even overseas, he knew exactly where I was at all times.
Wilkerson is like the demon I can’t ever outrun.
And my fucking father is the reason why this man haunts my dreams at night.
The door to his office is half open. I walk inside, glaring at the bookshelves lining the walls, the cordovan sofa, and the mahogany coffee table. A hint of cigar smoke lingers, the scent curling in the air, taunting and tormenting me like an evil spirit.
My spine stiffens at the heavy footsteps behind me. But when I turn, it isn’t Wilkerson.
It’s Colt.
He steps into the office. “What the fuck are you doing here?”
I shrug. “Wilkerson called me. Told me to come over.”
He steps closer. “You haven’t earned the right to be here. I’m the fucking guy Wilkerson calls, not you.”
“Well, then you’d better have a talk with him. Because he doesn’t seem to understand the pecking order in the Hartman family.”
“Screw you, Blaze,” he growls, edging closer. “This is my time. You gave all of this up when you ran. So just do what you know best and fucking leave.”
I look at my brother shaking with anger.
He thinks being here is a good thing, that this will get him the respect and credibility he’s so desperate for.
But he doesn’t realize that when you make a deal with the devil, you have to be willing to sacrifice.
My father has no issue with that. And if Colt doesn’t watch his back, he’ll be the next son our father pimps out.
Colton might hate me, but he’s still an innocent victim in this. So fixated on what he can get, how high he can climb that he wouldn’t see the big picture if it took a bite out of his nose.
So when he stalks out the door, I let him go. No sense in brawling with him here. Not when Wilkerson clearly has other plans for me.
When Wilkerson finally walks in, I’m sitting on the edge of his desk, arms folded over my chest.
“I don’t appreciate being kept waiting,” I say. “What do you want?”
He chuckles softly and takes a long sip of his drink.
“That’s one of the things about you that I like, Blaze.
You don’t sugarcoat things. You’re direct.
No nonsense. No agendas. You do the work and walk away.
” He takes another gulp of the liquor. “Colton isn’t like that.
He’s always angling for what he’s going to get, how much more power he can grab.
He doesn’t see things longer term like you do. He’s more focused on money.”
“I never did this for the money.”
“No, you didn’t. Not even in the beginning. It was always about everyone else, never you. Your dad, his business, your brothers.” He steps toward me, his lips curling upward. “Savannah Carlson. You’re loyal to a fault, Hartman, and I respect the hell out of that.”
“Great,” I snap. “Thanks.”
“I wanted to let you know I think you’re making great progress with Red Rock.” He pauses. “I’m watching. And you’re playing your role, gaining her trust. She will fold soon enough, realizing she can’t possibly handle that ranch on her own.”
Wilkerson walks around his desk and sits down. I bite back all the words I want to spew and turn to face him.
“But that’s not why I asked you to come here tonight.” He nods toward the hallway. “As you heard, we’re having issues with distribution. And I need some help moving merchandise. Your help.”
My eyes narrow. “Fuck, no. I can’t get caught doing those other jobs. My record is shot. I was dishonorably discharged because of you, remember? I’ll be completely fucked if I get nabbed by the cops doing one of your jobs back here.”
“You’re too desperate and resourceful to get caught. That’s why you’re my guy. You know exactly how much you have to lose.”
“Forget it. We agreed that my work is limited to Red Rock. That was the deal to settle the debts.”
“Don’t make me question your value, Hartman.
” Wilkerson grabs a cigar from the drawer and smiles thinly as he stands up.
“You will do what I ask without question because you need me to protect you. You have a lot of enemies, Blaze. Remember that. They know how to get to you and your loved ones. Just like I do. So, the deal is whatever I say it is. You’ll do this job.
And then you’ll finish Savannah Carlson. ”
Then he leaves the office without another look or word.
I grab my keys and stalk toward the front door, my gut roiling. My phone buzzes the second my hand is on the door handle. I step onto the porch and slowly slide the phone out of my pocket.
What I see makes my stomach free-fall into my boots.
Two photos come through. One is a photo of Savannah outside our barn a few days ago. One is a photo of me parked outside Red Rock.
Tonight.
They’re here. Watching. Just like he said. And pretty soon, if I know Wilkerson, they’ll start acting.