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CHAPTER FORTY

DEACON

My heart fights like a live animal against the cage of my ribs.

Thump.

Thump.

Thump.

The rest of me is perfectly still.

I’m standing by the kitchen window, staring out at the gray hills. The window is cracked, the cigarette in my lip trails smoke. November air bites my skin.

Nothing wakes me up out of this nightmare.

Jack Russell is on his way to Ryder Ranch. Jensen Childress is going for back-up, says he can get Sovereign Mountain behind me.

Slowly, I bring the cigarette down and stab it into the sink. The buzz of my phone vibrating against the sink jerks me out of my reverie. It takes a second, and then the screen flashes the letter B. Without thinking, I swipe it and bring it to my ear.

“Deacon Ryder.” The tone is soft, drawling.

“Brothers Boyd.”

My voice cracks and I clear my throat.

“I called to say Whitaker is dead,” he says .

Right now, it feels like years ago when I spoke to him last. It takes me a second to remember what he’s talking about. Then, it clicks.

“How much do I owe you?” I say.

“Not a thing,” Boyd says. “It wasn’t my boys who killed him. He’s been dead for a good four or five years.”

Faint disappointment rises in my chest. Maybe I was hoping for this small win in light of the woman I love being torn from me.

“Who killed him?”

“Well now,” Boyd drawls, papers shuffling in the background. “Looks to be an Aiden Hatfield. I can’t for the life of me see what the issue was between them. Hatfield has multiple prior arrests, drunk and disorderly kind of thing, but he was friends with the sheriff, so he never got more than a slap on the wrist. If I had to guess, it was a drug dispute gone wrong.”

“Aiden Hatfield,” I repeat.

“Does that mean something to you?”

My stomach turns. A lot of things would make sense if I could just get myself to accept the thought lurking in the back of my brain—that Aiden has a twisted obsession with Freya.

Maybe I’m assuming too much. I know Aiden is a prideful man. He’d probably consider it a slight that some man got his stepdaughter down in the dirt and left. Maybe he went to talk about making her an honest woman, getting her off his hands, and Whitaker refused.

Or, deep down, it’s about desire. What doesn’t make sense is why he hasn’t acted on it yet.

“No, nothing,” I say. “Let me pay you for your time.”

“Oh, just stop by and see me next time you’re in the commonwealth,” he says. “You have a good day, Ryder. I’ll chat anytime. Maybe let me see some more of those horses. Alright?”

“Yes, sir,” I say.

He hangs up. I go upstairs and take my semi-automatic out of the gun cabinet. I have hundreds of rounds in there, and every one of them has that motherfucker’s name on it .

A truck pulls up the drive. I use the barrel of my rifle to push the curtain aside. Down below, Jack swings out of his truck, black cowboy hat on his head. He has a pistol in his hand, and he checks the magazine as he heads up the front steps. I leave the bedroom and move downstairs to let him in.

The door must be unlocked still, because he walks in as I enter the hall.

“Anybody else here?” he asks.

I shake my head. “Andy went with some of the cowboys to check the back gates and lock everything up. I wanted men and dogs at every entrance to the ranch.”

“Good,” he says. “Let me see the bedroom where they took her.”

We go back upstairs. Jack’s eyes move over the floor and walls as we go, taking everything in. I push open the bedroom door, and he holds out a hand to keep me back.

“How likely are they to hurt her?” he asks.

I shake my head. “I don’t know. I—”

My voice cracks. Jack’s eyes snap up, narrowing.

“What do you know that you’re not saying?” he says.

I shake my head.

“You want my help? Be honest with me, Ryder,” he says, voice hard. “What do you know?”

I clear my throat. “I talked to Brothers Boyd. I asked him to kill the man who took Freya’s virginity.”

“Because?”

“Because he was a cunt,” I say. “Because she cried when she told me about it, and, more likely than not, that’s the mother of my baby.”

“Congratulations,” says Jack, not missing a beat.

“He was already dead,” I say harshly. “Aiden killed him years ago, after that man fucked her. And then, she collects all these fucking bugs and pins them in cases. It’s something that means a lot to her—she had years of these things in a box. When Aiden found out she was fucking me, he smashed that shit to dust.”

Jack’s forest green eyes are black. He leans down and pulls the sheet back, revealing the pillow with a few smears of crimson .

“Are you saying he fucks her?” he clips, no emotion.

I shake my head. “I’m saying he’s got some kind of weird attachment, and he can’t stand the thought of anybody else being with her. She’s talked about how she looks just like her mother. She talks about how he shames her, calls her a whore.”

“I don’t think he wants her like that,” Jack says.

I stare at him, jaw working. “We’ve been friends a while, Jack. Don’t bullshit me.”

“What do you want from me?” He lifts his hand. “How am I supposed to know if Aiden wants to fuck his stepdaughter?”

“Because you know shit.”

“Not shit like this. Do you know?”

I push the semi-automatic back over my shoulder and run my hand over my face. Sweat drips from my temples, stinging down my neck. Every conversation I’ve ever had with Freya, in our most intimate moments, spins through my mind.

“I don’t,” I say.

“Deacon—”

“I don’t know.” My voice raises. “I don’t know what he’s thinking, but I know she doesn’t know. I don’t want her to know.”

“Why can’t she know?” Jack circles the bed.

“Because she doesn’t deserve to have to carry that around.”

Jack takes off his hat and stands with it hanging by his thigh, like he’s thinking hard. “I get it,” he says. “But I don’t think she’s in danger like that from him right now.”

He sounds confident. Or maybe he’s just trying to keep me calm. That’s more likely.

“Why do you think that?” I press.

“Why now?” Jack says. “If he was going to, he’d have done it already. He wants what he said he wants. Land, money, power. If he and the McClaines get the highway and development through, he’s set up to be one of the wealthiest landowners in the state.”

I turn, heading back down the hall. Jack comes after me.

“Deacon,” he snaps .

“Don’t patronize me,” I retort, heading downstairs. I grab my jacket and pull it on before stepping onto the icy porch. Jack follows me just as my phone starts ringing.

I pick up. It’s Jensen, walking fast. I can hear it in his breath.

“What’s the situation?” he says.

“The same,” I say. “Jack is here.”

“Sovereign and Westin are coming. They can be there by nightfall, but we need a plan. We need to figure out where they’re keeping her first.”

“Good,” I say. “Get them here. I’ll do everything else.”

He hangs up. I stand, heart refusing to slow down. I’ve been in situations where I was sure I was going to die, but I’ve never felt anything like this anger.

They have her, and maybe our baby too. There’s no fucking way I’ll let Aiden get away with this.

I alight the porch and head for the blacksmith shop.

“Where are you going?”

I stop, looking down at my boots. Jack knows who I am. He’s been my friend for over a decade and a half. None of the violence I’m about to commit will shock him. I turn, looking back. He’s gazing at me from beneath the brim of his black hat.

“Aiden Hatfield needs to be put down,” I say. “But I’m not doing that with a gun. That’s too good for him.”

Jack’s face doesn’t change. “What do you need?”

“I need the rest of you to handle the other men,” I say. “Aiden’s mine.”