Page 93 of Finding Denver

But I knew that would happen. I knew that because my power doesn’t come from arrogance. Finn taught me from a young age never to underestimate anyone. Not the person above or below me. Anyone can find the strength you take for granted and turn it against you.

I disarm Ranger, and the gun is against his forehead before he can recover from the punch. I step back, distance important to maintain control. I pull back the hammer.

“I won’t kill you. That’s her right. But you have two minutes to get the fuck out of my territory.”

Ranger rolls his jaw, touching his lip and the spot of blood I’ve drawn from him. He straightens up, and we’re eye to eye.

“Two men have tried to take her from me, Colt. They’re both dead. Do you think you’ll fare any better?”

“I’m not taking her. And the fact you think that’s the only reason she’d walk away means you don’t know your wife at all.” He steps forward, and my finger hovers over the trigger. “If you give me no choice, she’d understand.”

Ranger stills, smart enough to know even he couldn’t survive a bullet to the head.

His attention flicks behind me, and for the second time in my life, I see Ranger Luxe weaken a little at the sight of the woman he loves. Because I know it’s her behind me, descending the steps, ready to face the cause of all her pain since she was twenty-one years old.

“It’s okay, Colt,” Denver says quietly. “He won’t do anything.”

I don’t believe that for a second, so although I lower the gun and take a step back, I don’t leave. A glance back at the house shows me that Finn and Ronan are at the door, and the men Finn called will be watching closely, too. If Ranger steps out of line, his blood will coat this street.

Denver keeps distance between herself and her husband. Her face is pale, eyes red, and she’s pulled her hair away from her face to reveal … nothing. No expression. No hate or anger or despair. She’s hollow.

“Come home, Denver,” Ranger says. It isn’t as soft as it should be. Not a demand, not a plea.

“No.”

He searches her face. “After everything we’ve beenthrough, this is what makes you walk away? A fucking casino? A few letters?”

He doesn’t know.

My attention moves to Denver as she processes that information, too. Something I’ve seen in her before sparks to life.

Power.

Not the blazing flame it usually is, but a reawakening.

“You want me to come home, Ranger?” she asks, her tone flat.

“Yes,” he says, far too sharp for a man who should be pleading.

She drops her hands to her sides. “Beg. Get on your knees and beg me to come home. And I will.”

Ranger looks at me. At Finn. At Ronan. Humiliation and pride keep him standing. Denver doesn’t move.

But after a moment, he swallows whatever pride he has and gets to his knees.

I almost step back. It’s such an alarming sight to see twice in my life. The first time was pure relief that Denver was alive. Now, he’s at her mercy.

“Come. Home.”

“Say please.”

He grits his jaw. “Please, little bird.”

Denver examines his face with relative indifference. Like he’s a toothless snake, and she was the one who removed the poison. She steps forward, and I tense. The car is close. He could grab her, take her, and my heart thunders at the thought of him doing just that.

But Denver doesn’t seem afraid. She reaches out and runs her fingertip across his jaw.

“Do you remember our wedding day? You looked just like this,” she says softly. “You lied to me then, too. Aboutmy father’s will. About the women Wyatt slept with. You lied about everything.” My breathing gets harder to control the more I hear. “You were so angry with me.”