Page 122 of Earning Her Trust

One press sends a signal directly to me. No matter where you are, I’ll know you need help. I’ll be there.

But he wasn’t here now. He was in a cell, separated from his weapons, his control, everything that made him feel safe. And it was her fault.

“I need to call Brandt,” she said, reaching for her phone. “Find out what’s happening.”

Ava nodded but didn’t move from her chair.

The call went straight to voicemail. She tried Boone next, then Walker.

Nothing.

The Valor Ridge men had gone dark, closing ranks the way they always did in a crisis. Protecting their own.

She set the phone down, fighting the urge to throw it across the room. “No one’s answering.”

“They will when there’s news,” Ava said with the calm certainty of a woman who’d weathered storms that made this one look like a spring shower. “Staring at that phone won’t make it ring any faster.”

Naomi knew she was right, but stillness felt impossible. She moved to the window instead, parting the curtains to stare out at the night. The moon hung low and heavy over the mountains, casting silver light across Ava’s small yard with its herb garden and prayer flags fluttering in the breeze.

Somewhere out there, Ghost was in a cell. Somewhere out there, Deveraux was in a hospital, his nose broken, his cover blown. What would happen now? Would Goodwin bury the accusation? Would the other girls identify him too? Would anyone believe them if they did?

“I should be doing something,” she said to the darkness beyond the glass. “Not hiding here like?—”

“Like a rabbit?” Ava finished for her.

Naomi turned, ready to snap, but the understanding in her grandmother’s eyes stopped her. “Yes,” she admitted. “Like a scared rabbit.”

“There’s no shame in seeking shelter when the storm is at its worst,” Ava said and stood, crossing to Naomi with quiet dignity. Her hands, rough from decades of work, framed Naomi’s face with surprising gentleness. “The fox doesn’t always chase. Sometimes it waits, watches, learns. Then strikes when the time is right.”

Naomi let herself lean into the touch, into the wisdom and love it conveyed. “And when will the time be right?”

“The spirits will tell you,” Ava said, then smiled at Naomi’s skeptical look. “Or that man of yours will call. Whichever comes first.”

A laugh bubbled up, unexpected and fragile. “He’s not my man.”

“No?” Ava’s thumb brushed over the fox pendant, a knowing smile curving her lips. “Then why do you wear his mark over your heart? He’s the fox, sweetheart, not you.”

Naomi clasped the pendant. “No, he?—”

Ava clasped her face between wrinkled hands. “You will always be a rabbit, my girl, and that’s nothing to be ashamed of. Rabbits are quick and clever and know when to hide. But sometimes, rabbits also bite back, and they have vicious teeth. Isn’t that how you discovered Mitch Deveraux’s identity today at the festival? A rabbit bit him.”

She hadn’t thought of it that way. “I… guess so.”

“And now, my beautiful Little Rabbit, you will bite him, too. You’ll bring them all down.” Ava’s smile was fierce. “And I, for one, am looking forward to the bloodbath.”

Before Naomi could answer, headlights swept across the window, painting the room in harsh white light before darkness returned. A car door slammed, followed by fast footsteps on the gravel path to the front door.

Her heart leapt. Owen?

But no—he wouldn’t know to come here.

Ava moved to the door with surprising speed for a woman staring down ninety. She peered through the peephole, then stepped back and pulled open the door with a welcoming smile. “My boy! It takes a crisis for you to finally come visit your old grandmother?”

Julius filled the doorway like he’d always filled any space he entered—with easy confidence and a smile. He stood a head and shoulders taller than Ava, his game warden uniform exchanged for dark jeans and a soft flannel shirt that made him look more like the boy Naomi had grown up with than the man he’d become. A plastic grocery bag dangled from one hand, contents clinking as he stepped over the threshold.

“Sorry I couldn’t come sooner,” he said and bent to kiss Ava’s cheek. “Had poachers going after the buffalo heard in the canyon. By the time I wrapped that mess up and found out what happened, it was already over.” He set the grocery bag on the counter and began unpacking—takeaway containers of homemade stew, a loaf of crusty bread from Nessie’s Place, and a bottle of moonshine. “Thought you two might need something stronger than tea after today.”

“Always thinking of others,” Ava said, patting his arm before shuffling to the kitchen for glasses. “Such a good boy.”