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CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

DEACON

There’s only one person more useful than Jack Russell in a pinch, and that’s Jensen Childress. He can tell me everything about everyone. I swear, he’s got everyone locked down, owing him favors. He knows all their friends, their families, where they eat, who they talk to. His business is technically a construction company, but I know it’s a lot more than that.

Not many people know he lives not too far from Ryder Ranch. I pull up his driveway to the sweeping ranch house at the end and put the truck in park. The screen door is shut, but the other door is open. Chicken lays on his side on the porch. When I get out and move up from the front barn to the steps of the two story house, he lifts his head and barks.

“It’s alright,” I call.

He heaves himself up and stares at me as I approach. Footsteps ring out from inside, and the screen door opens. Jensen appears in a white undershirt, work pants, and boots. He’s got a beer hanging in his fingers.

“Not a great time,” he says.

“I need help,” I say .

He sighs, running a hand over his face. “Alright, what do you need?”

“I’m getting Freya back.”

Jensen’s face stays the same. “She lost or something?”

“No, she’s at Aiden’s house,” I say. “I’m thinking I might acquire her from there.”

“Like kidnap her or something?”

I nod. Jensen sighs, jerking his head inside. I follow him, Chicken at my heels. The kitchen is pretty clean, although there’s some kind of project going on in the hallway. Two by fours are stacked on the floor, and sawdust crunches under my feet. Jensen kicks out a chair and leans against the counter, crossing his arms.

“What can I do you for? I don’t know how I’m any help,” he says.

“You know the Hatfields.”

“I’m a fair weather friend to everybody.”

“Do you talk to Aiden much?” I say, sinking down and stretching my legs out.

“Here and there.”

“Does he leave town a lot?”

Jensen shifts his weight, giving me a look. “Did she run off on you?”

I nod. “She’s worried about her brother.”

“The addict one?”

That lifts my head. “How do you know he’s an addict?”

Jensen shrugs. “It’s pretty clear he’s got something going on. I heard he was in an accident. Could be for pain from it.”

I’m quiet, remembering how upset she was before she disappeared. I checked the phone her text messages were sent to and there was nothing. Bittern must have called her. I wonder if she heard desperation in his voice.

She didn’t stand a chance.

“I want to know what Aiden’s doing,” I say. “I need a chance to get Freya out in the open, away from her house, so I can just go in there and get her.”

Jensen’s brows lift briefly. “That’s your plan? Just…grab her? ”

“It’s a good plan,” I say.

The sigh that comes out of Jensen is from deep down. “Alright, I’ll see what I can do. It’s probably to your benefit that I stay friendly with the Hatfields.”

“It’d be helpful to have somebody who knows their comings and goings.”

“Fine, I’ll keep a general eye out.” He shrugs. “Consider it a favor I can use later. I’ll pull a Jack Russell on you but in reverse.”

“One Jack Russell is one too many.”

Jensen laughs then sobers quickly. Truthfully, we both know we’ll just keep trading favors back and forth without keeping count. The last person who posed a real threat to my land is dead at the bottom of a ravine. I owe Jensen a bit for helping with that one, and the boys up at Sovereign Mountain. None of us keep count too good.

My phone rings. This is the second time it’s gone off in the last five minutes. I’ve been ignoring the vibration against my leg, but this time, I take it out of my pocket.

“Alright, here’s my ass beating now,” I say, turning to head down the hall.

“Jay?” Jensen follows me to the door and holds it open.

I step out. “Yeah, honestly, I thought he’d be on my case before now. Wish me luck.”

“Good luck. You’re gonna need it.” Jensen shuts the screen door and lifts a hand as I head down the steps to my truck.

I wait until I’m back in Knifley before checking my phone again. There’s a text from Jay saying he’s heading my way, that he wants to meet in his secondary office. I park the truck at the curb and decide to walk, hoping I can walk by the café and see Freya, although I’m not sure she wants to see me.

She did leave while I was sleeping.

I mull that over, like I have been for a few days. Freya’s a hard woman to understand. One day, she’s smiling, eyes bright. The next, she’s all closed up with the saddest eyes I’ve ever seen. One second, she’s shy, and the next she’s naked and riding my dick like there’s no tomorrow .

I shake my head. I can’t get hard walking down the curb.

The door to Jay’s office is shut. It’s a storefront with a wooden door, like something out of a western. I check the knob, and it’s locked. But the minute I let go, it swivels and opens, revealing Jay.

“You son of a bitch,” he says, striding back down the hall.

I shut the door and follow him to his office in the back. It’s one of those low rooms with fake wooden walls and carpets that remind me of the ones in the methodist church. He circles the desk and sinks down, staring up at me with a crackle in his eyes.

“You look like shit,” he says.

I laugh. Jay is usually the picture of a gentleman lawyer, in his nice suits tucked over his cowboy boots. But today, his suit and tie are traded for jeans and a flannel, and he’s not hiding his annoyance.

“Yeah, I got hit in the face and stabbed in the leg,” I say. “But I’m fine, thanks for asking.”

“Fuck yourself,” he says.

I sink down in the seat across from him, stretching my legs out and leaning back. “Look, I pay for that nice house and truck. Just patch this up the way you always do, what you’re draining my bank account for.”

His eyes narrow. “I can’t bail you out of everything. You assaulted two men and defaced their property.”

“Defaced? I didn’t deface anything.”

“You slashed their tires, Deacon,” he snaps. “You beat the shit out of two people. Not just any people, but the one’s getting ready to drag your ass to court if you won’t lie down and take that easement.”

“What? They can’t change a tire so they have to cry about it?”

Jay’s eyes flash, the vein in his forehead standing out as he tries to gather himself. There’s a pen on his desk. I pick it up, clicking it absently, waiting.

Click.

Click.

Click.

“Set that fucking thing down,” Jay snaps .

I stop clicking. “I won’t lie down and take it,” I say, my voice dropping. “No easement. I don’t want that development going in on my property line. Do you know what that does to my property value?”

Jay stands, hands on hips. He starts pacing, and I keep quiet and let him think. Finally, he stops and lets out a sigh, like all the air is let out of his tires.

“Do you know how hard it is to fight an easement?” he says quietly.

I shake my head.

He lifts a finger. “I’ve won one easement case in my entire career, and it was due to there being endangered turtles in a pond directly in the path of the road. One of my paralegals had a zoology degree, and he’d done a paper on it. That was it, a couple turtles.”

His point is sinking in. I stare down at the desk.

“I’m already fucked on this case. Don’t go making it harder by beating the shit out of the people dragging you to court,” he says. “It’s a little strip of land. That’s all they see.”

It’s not a little strip of land. It’s Aiden Hatfield selling off his land to let the highway come through, right by mine. It’s the houses they’ll build and all the people who will come flocking in. It’s the way I won’t be able to stand on my back porch and see the land rolling out for miles without a soul in sight.

It’s the way I have to save the home I built for Freya before we even met.

I lift my hands. “What do you want me to do?”

He stops, giving me a hard stare. “Put your fists away,” he says. “No fighting. No fucking Aiden’s stepdaughter. No antagonizing anybody.”

I shake my head. “I can quit fighting. Can’t quit the stepdaughter.”

Jay runs a hand over his face. “You’re lucky I don’t fire you. Get out of my office and keep your hands to yourself.”

He’s actually mad, I can tell. Jay and I go way back, and there’s not a lot we can’t resolve, but I can tell he needs some time to cool off. I get up, turning to speak, but he just points to the door.

“I’ll do my best,” he says. “You do yours.”

“I can do that. ”

I leave him there, shoulders bowed. Outside, the wind has picked up. I cross the street and get in my truck, sinking back. If this had all happened a few years ago, I would have handled my frustration differently. I’d have gone down to the city and found something stronger than whiskey and a woman who knew what she was doing to make me forget about it for a few hours.

Not now.

Not now, when all I want is to wake up to Freya’s curly head on the pillow next to me. Not now that I know what she tastes like, the way she lets out a little gasp when she comes, how her nails feel digging into my skin. I want to be in the kitchen with her, doing my best to dance with her to the radio. That’s all I want anymore. I’m done. I’ve already made my choice.

A slow realization settles over me.

Freya didn’t change me. I got older, a little wiser, and that version of me wants the gentleness of a woman like her. My tires are riding lower than they used to be. I’ve got enough stories to last me.

I’m ready to settle down, have been for a while.

I just got one more fight to finish.