Chapter 32
thirty-two
Trouble
“Uncle T, when do I get my nickname?”
I snort, shaking a scoop of grain into the trough. The horses nicker, shoving their muzzles in before it even settles. “Not till you ride.”
He throws his arms up. “But y’all won’t let me ride yet!”
“’Cause you’re not old enough.”
He narrows his eyes at me like he’s tryin’ to start a staring contest. “What if I get two nicknames? One for now, and one for later.”
I tilt my head, brushing horse hair off my shirt. “Alright, hotshot, what nickname you want for now?”
He puffs out his chest. “I’m thinkin’ you can call me… Batman. Or maybe Iron Man.”
I bark out a laugh, the sound startling Dodge who flicks her ears back. “No can do. Those are taken. You ain’t rich and can’t fly, don’t meet the criteria.”
Fisher crosses his arms, dead serious, while another horse noses at his shoulder. “Fine, I got a better one.”
I smirk, leaning on the fence. “Superman is taken, too.”
His eyes light up. “What about Fury?”
I raise an eyebrow. “Fury?”
“Yeah. I’m faster than a fox, sneakier than a bunny… and when I sneeze, it sounds like a tornado in my head!” He strikes a dramatic pose, fists on hips.
I grin, ruffling his hair. “Lord help us all. That one just might stick.”
Just then, my pocket buzzes. I pull out my phone, and Knox’s name lights up the screen. He never calls. Always texts—unless it’s real important.
My thumb hangs over the screen. I know he’s been tangled up in the Kennedys’ mess. And I been waitin’ on him to man up and tell me. Maybe this is it.
Maybe it don’t have to be the end. Maybe he’s got an excuse. A reason. If it’s about his daddy’s ranch, hell—we can work somethin’ out.
I swallow hard, then swipe. “What?”
“You seen Sawyer?” Knox’s voice cracks, too desperate, too raw.
My stomach drops. “No.” I look around. “Why?”
Why the hell’s he callin’ me about her?
“I found her phone.” He pauses. “It was lyin’ in the dirt by my daddy’s property, out by the road. She’d never leave it behind. I can’t find her anywhere, and… somethin’ don’t feel right.”
The world tilts. My hand clamps around the phone so hard the glass should shatter. My pulse is a jackhammer in my throat. Sawyer. Gone. No way in hell.
“I’ll find her,” I grind out, barely breathin’.
“I think the Kennedys got somethin’ to do with this,” Knox blurts. “I’m goin’ over there—”
“There’s no way they’d be that stupid,” I snap, even though my gut’s already churnin’. Maybe they are. Maybe they really fuckin’ are.
“Trouble…” His silence stretches. “There’s somethin’ I need to tell you.”
I shut my eyes. My teeth grind so hard my jaw pops. I already know. Christ, I already fuckin’ know. “Say it.”
“The Kennedys—”
“I know, Knox!” My voice is all gravel and fury. “This is all because you been fuckin’ around with them, isn’t it?”
Silence. Then he lets out a soft, broken, “You knew?”
“Damn right I knew. You think I wouldn’t notice the shit was disappearin’?
That my best friend was in on it?!” My throat burns, my chest squeezes tighter and tighter, and still I can’t stop.
“I kept hopin’ you’d tell me yourself. That you’d grow a fuckin’ spine and come clean.
But no—you wait ‘til now? When she’s gone? ”
“I didn’t mean—”
“Save it.” My voice is a growl, low and lethal. “I’ll deal with you later. Right now, I’m gettin’ Sawyer back. And she better be in one piece.”
Didn’t wanna believe it. Kept tellin’ myself it couldn’t be true at first, even when the signs were screamin’ in my face. Somebody had to be helpin’ the Kennedys from the inside. Should’ve known it’d be him. The one person I trusted with everything.
Yeah, I’ve kept my own secrets, done things Knox don’t know about. Maybe that makes us even. Maybe it don’t.
All I know is if they’ve laid one hand on Sawyer—I will kill every Kennedy I can find.
There’s a long pause. Then he lets out a rough exhale. “Okay, but I’m helpin’ you. This is my mess, and my sister. Where would they take her?”
I steady myself and tell Fisher—who’s still patting the horses—to head to Mama’s. He gives a quick nod and takes off.
I run a hand down my face, thinking hard. Then it clicks. “That barn they think we don’t know about. Meet me there. I’m gettin’ in the truck.”
I hang up, shove the phone in my pocket, and yank open the glove box. My gun gleams back at me. I thumb the clip, check the chamber—loaded. Ready. No hesitation.
By the time I pull up near the barn, I cut the headlights and ease my truck into the tree line, where nobody’s gonna see it. Boots hit dirt before the engine even dies down.
Some idiot is posted out front, trying to look tough. I step into the open, slowly. “You the one standin’ guard?” I ask, voice low, calm.
“Nah,” he says, leaning back like he ain’t worried. “Out here for a smoke break.”
I grit my teeth. “Might wanna take that break somewhere else and step aside.”
He smirks, squinting at me. “You pretty boys think everyone’s intimidated by you, huh? You wanna know what I think of you?”
Before I can respond, he spits right in my face. Big mistake.
I don’t even flinch. My hand drops to my holster, and in one smooth motion, I draw my gun, pressing the barrel against his forehead before he can draw his. His eyes widen, pulse hammering—but he doesn’t break.
“Don’t you know they call me Trouble… should tell you somethin’ about me.”
My finger hovers near the trigger, but I know better. If Sawyer’s not inside, I need him alive. I need answers. With a swift punch to the jaw, I send him sprawling to the dirt. He hits hard, out cold before he even has time to respond.
I shake out my hand, lean down just enough to mutter, “Tell your boys Trouble’s here.” Then I step over him without a second thought. My knuckles sting, but I don’t care. All that matters is Sawyer. And I’ll tear through every last one of these bastards if that’s what it takes to get her back.