Chapter 31
thirty-one
Sawyer
“I just need rough numbers, okay?” I pace the gravel drive on my daddy's property, phone tucked between my shoulder and cheek. “If we get the egg shed up—self-serve, honesty system, maybe a payment sign—and get Daddy’s lower field running again, what could he bring in per month? Ballpark it.”
The silence on the other end makes me glance toward the chicken coop like it’s going to answer instead. “He’s not leaving this land,” I add, softer. “So I’ve got to make it work. Enough for him to live on, plus some to stash away for upkeep.”
I stop walking, thumb hovering over the home screen. A notification buzzes. It’s from Harrison’s sister, the only member of the Windsor family who has always been kind to me. One of the only close friends I have in Chicago. I think she’s the one who should actually be running that company.
Graycen
Are you coming back this week?
Harrison’s fuming
He thinks you’re quitting
I sigh and text back quickly:
Sawyer
Tell Harrison to unclench
I’ll be back soon
I’m about to open her reply when I hear it—the screech of tires grinding into gravel.
A white pickup slams to a stop in front of me, rattling the mailbox post. My stomach flips.
Two men jump out. I recognize the tallest from the bar—last weekend, when Trouble pulled me away. They look angry.
“That’s her!” one of them shouts. “That’s his sister—get her in the truck!”
I should have heard the truck sooner. Should have noticed my surroundings before it got to this. But I’m always distracted, too worried about everything else. When his hands close around my shoulders, I don’t even get to scream before my phone hits the dirt and a burlap sack drops over my head.
I twist, try to claw at the arms pinning me.
“Let go of me!” I kick, heel catching something solid. There’s a grunt. The grip tightens, and I can’t fight it.
Bootsteps again, closer now. Two sets. Someone grabs my ankles, and I lose the ground beneath me, legs in the air. I open my mouth to scream, but I can hardly catch a breath.
“Easy now,” a hoarse voice says. “You just sit tight.”
I thrash and kick, but it’s useless. They carry me like a sack of potatoes. I hear the crunch of gravel, the creak of a truck door. Sun slashes through the burlap before I’m tossed belly-down onto a vinyl seat. My arms are twisted behind me, wrists zip-tied. The plastic bites.
What do they want with me? Where are they taking me? My chest tightens, lungs burning as panic claws its way up. Every second feels like forever, and all I can think is… I have to get out. I have to.
The door slams, and I’m caged in. All I can smell is Windex and cheap cologne. Someone else climbs in after me.
“You keep fighting, and we’ll take you back passed out,” another voice says. “Don’t make this worse.”
I spit the only word that fits. “Cowards.”
Laughter. “Says the girl who’s trussed up like a calf.” A pause. “Might want to watch that mouth, honey. You don’t know who you’re messin’ with.”
The engine starts. The floor rattles. We jolt over ruts, take a corner fast enough that my head bounces. They don’t talk much, just drive. I count the seconds, trying to memorize every curve and turn, but I lose my sense of direction after a while.
What do they want with me? What are they going to do with me? I try not to spiral more than I already am.
Finally, the truck slows. The road changes texture—gravel, then a crunch as we stop. I’m yanked upright and dragged out. My boots scuff over concrete, then wood. Inside? A barn?
A hand shoves me to my knees.
“What do you want?” I say, as steady as I can. “If you touch me—”
“We ain’t interested in that,” one of them says. There’s something almost bored in his voice. Like he’s done this a dozen times and is already thinking about the next thing on his list. “You’re just leverage.”
“For what?” I grind out. “Who am I leverage for?”
Silence, then: “Guess your brother’s keepin’ some secrets from you.”
I freeze. My brother. What does this have to do with him?
One of them pulls a phone out; I can’t see much, but I can barely see the light.
“You thought you could steal from us and just disappear?” the man shouts, pacing the dirt in front of me.
I know he has to be talking to my brother.
My wrists burn. My mouth is dry.
A pause.
“She’s tied up on our property. You’ve got till midnight. We’ll send you the location just before.”
I stop breathing.
“No cops. No tricks. You bring the full amount in cash.”
Another pause, but it’s longer this time. I picture my brother’s face, feel the panic he’s trying not to show.
“Because if you’re late,” he says softly, “I start taking things off her.”
The man crouches in front of me, brings the phone closer.
“And I’ll make sure she’s alive long enough to feel it.”
“Say hi,” he adds, shoving the phone closer to my face.
“Knox!” I yell, as loud as I can, not even trying to hide the panic.
A hand yanks the phone away.
The other man’s voice, flat and final, adds, Midnight.”
Click. Silence.
They loop a rope tight around my waist, pinning my back to the pole, and wind it until my ribs can barely expand.
“Don’t squirm,” says the one with the knife. “You ain’t going anywhere.”
The sack comes off and I blink. It takes me a second to see the outlines: wooden beams, the farm equipment, the dust-clouded windows along the rafters.
I’m in a barn, like I guessed, but not one I recognize.
One of the men has a scrappy beard and a tattoo of a playing card on his neck.
The other two are the Kennedys I’ve seen around the bar a few times.
The bearded one steps back and surveys me, head tilted. “Damn, you’re a lot prettier than I expected.”
His friend whistles. “She won’t go on a date with you after this, idiot.”
“Worth a shot.”
I give them my best glare, chin up. “You wanna slide in my DMs? You can find me under the username go fuck yourself.”
“Language,” says the big guy. “You kiss your mama with that mouth?”
I don’t answer. I stay glaring.
“Alright, princess,” the bearded one says, crouching in front of me. “Time for the family business talk. You ask about your brother? You really want to know what he did?”
I press my lips together. “You said he owed you money. For what?”
They exchange a glance. The big one grins.
“He’s been doing work for us. But then outta the blue, he decided he’s too good for us, stopped picking up our calls. Thing is, we already paid him. So now there’s a hole in our books. That’s a problem.”
“Work,” I repeat. “What kind of work?”
They both smirk.
“We’re not in the business of details.” He shrugs. “We just know your brother’s a thief.”
I shake my head. “You’ve got the wrong guy. Knox wouldn’t do that. He hates people like you.”
The big one snorts. “‘People like us’. Yeah, we heard that before. Thing is, your brother’s not as perfect as he makes out. Took things from other people, took our money. Which makes him either a dumbass, or someone who thinks he’s smarter than us.”
“Neither,” I say. “You’re lying about him.”
“You’re a good sister,” the bearded one says. “But we got the right person. Knox Woodworth. And we know all about you, too.”
“Lucky me.”
He stands, cracks his neck. “You been runnin' with the wrong crowd, Sawyer. Stetsons are bad news. Everyone knows it. But after tonight, maybe you see what it’s like to be on the winning team.”
My mind races. Why me? Why would Knox have anything to do with these people? What have they done to him? My stomach twists, a knot of panic and guilt, but I grit my teeth.
“Not even if you paid me,” I spit.
He barks out a real laugh. “This one’s feisty. I like that.”
Feisty? That’s what he calls it? I swallow hard, heart hammering. This isn’t a game. This is my life. I need a plan. I need a way out.
“You got a thing for the Stetsons? Which one are you fuckin’? The pretty boy, or the wild one?”
I bite down on the inside of my cheek. They don’t deserve my answer.
Big guy tilts his head. “Bet it’s the wild one,” he says. “Rogue. He likes the crazy ones.”
I want to throw something at them, but I don’t say a word. They don’t suspect I’m with Trouble, and I have a feeling that once he knows what they’ve done, he isn’t going to take it easy on them.
“We’ll be back to check on you later. Don’t go having too much fun,” one says before they make their way out.
The lights snap off, and I’m alone in the barn. I can see through the cracks in the planks—a faint slit of blue sky. My wrists hurt, my mouth is dry, but I’m alive.
What has Knox been doing to get us into this mess? Was it worth it? Did he know this could happen?
I wonder if the Stetsons are looking for me. If Trouble is looking for me.