Page 57

chapter

thirty-nine

Time had a way of healing wounds, even when the scars remained visible.

The bakery remained wrapped in yellow tape, its broken windows and smoke-stained walls a constant reminder of how close they’d come to losing everything. But life at Valor Ridge had settled into a rhythm that felt surprisingly natural.

The mornings started with coffee on the cabin porch with Jax while Oliver fed his rescued cats—the real ones, anyway.

Trouble had already claimed the sunny spot by the chicken coop door, Princess Jellybean preferred the shade under the old oak, and Socks had appointed himself Oliver’s personal shadow.

Watching her son croon to them, seeing him take responsibility for their care, made something warm unfurl in her chest.

She’d found herself spending most days with Lila Garrison, the ranch vet, and Johanna Perrin, therapist, housekeeper, and an unofficial mother figure to the men who lived here.

She’d grown fond of both women, though they couldn’t be more different.

Lila was all quiet competence and gentle humor, while Johanna was a force of nature who could organize a last-minute dinner party for a hundred, help deliver a breached calf, or gently talk a veteran through his nightmares.

But what fascinated Nessie most was watching Lila whenever Boone was around—the way her eyes would soften, how she’d find excuses to linger near wherever he was working. The poor woman was completely gone for the gruff ranch foreman, and he seemed utterly oblivious to her feelings.

“You should just tell him,” Nessie suggested one afternoon as they watched Boone repair a fence post, his shirt clinging to his broad shoulders in the heat.

Lila turned pink to the roots of her golden brown hair. “Tell him what?”

“That you’re in love with him.”

“I am not—” Lila sputtered, then caught the knowing look in Nessie’s eyes. “Is it that obvious?”

“Only to those of us with a vagina,” Johanna said.

Lila choked on her iced tea.

“The men are hopeless,” Johanna continued, settling back in her chair.

“Every last one of them. They can track a wounded animal for miles, fix anything with an engine, and face down armed criminals without blinking. But put a woman who cares about them in front of their faces?” She made a dismissive sound. “Blind as newborn kittens.”

Nessie thought about Jax, how long it had taken him to believe she could actually love him. How he still sometimes looked at her like he expected her to disappear. “Maybe they just don’t think they deserve to be loved.”

“Exactly.” Johanna pointed a weathered finger at her. “These boys have been told they’re broken for so long, they can’t imagine anyone seeing past the damage.”

Out in the pasture, Boone straightened and wiped sweat from his forehead with the back of his arm. Even from this distance, Nessie could see the play of muscle across his shoulders, the easy competence in his movements. She glanced at Lila, who was watching him with naked longing.

“He’s not going to figure it out on his own,” Nessie said gently.

“I know,” Lila sighed. “But what if I tell him and it ruins everything? What if he doesn’t feel the same way? I’d have to leave, find another job, and this place...” She gestured around them. “This is home.”

Nessie understood that fear intimately. The terror of risking everything for the possibility of something better. She’d felt it every time she’d let herself get closer to Jax, every wall she’d let him tear down.

“But, Lila, what if he does feel the same way? What if you’re both just standing there, afraid to take the first step?”

Before Lila could answer, the sound of an engine made them all turn. A black SUV was coming up the drive, moving fast enough to kick up a cloud of dust. Nessie’s stomach dropped as she recognized the vehicle.

Brandt.

He never came to the ranch unless something was wrong. Very wrong.

The SUV skidded to a stop near the main house, and Brandt climbed out, his usual composed demeanor nowhere to be seen. His suit was wrinkled, his tie loosened, and there was something wild in his eyes that made Nessie’s mouth go dry.

“Where’s Jax?” he called out, scanning the area.

“Working with the horses,” Johanna said, rising from her chair. “What’s wrong?”

But Brandt was already moving, jogging toward the corral where Jax and Jonah trained one of Walker’s new mares. Nessie followed, her heart hammering against her ribs. Behind her, she could hear Lila and Johanna’s footsteps.

Jax looked up as they approached, his expression shifting from curiosity to concern as he took in Brandt’s appearance. He handed the mare’s lead rope to Oliver, who’d been watching the training session from the fence.

“What is it?” Jax asked.

Brandt glanced around at the gathering crowd—Walker had emerged from the barn, and several of the other men were drifting over from their various tasks—then he zeroed in on Jax’s again. “I’m gonna ask you flat-out. Did you do it?”

“Do what?” Nessie asked. “He didn’t do anything. We haven’t left the ranch in over a week.”

“That go for all of you?”

“What are you accusing my guys of?” Walker asked.

Brandt’s jaw worked for a moment before he spoke. “Aleksandr Sarkisian is dead.”

The words knocked all the air from Nessie’s lungs. Her vision grayed at the edges, and if not for Jax’s arm sliding around her, she would have collapsed.

Dead.

Alek was dead.

It was over.

“When?” The word scraped her throat raw.

“Three days ago. LAPD found him in his penthouse.”

Three days. He’d been dead for three days, and she was only finding out now. Three days of freedom she hadn’t even known she had.

Jax rubbed her back in soothing circles. “How?”

“Single gunshot to the head. Could be suicide. Could be one of his enemies—he had plenty. Could be his father cleaning house.” He met Jax’s gaze, then looked at the other men. “I had to make sure it wasn’t any of you.”

“Never been to LA,” River said and took his hat off to wipe sweat off his forehead. He dragged a hand through his wildly curling hair before replacing the hat and looking at his friends. “Any of you?”

He got a chorus of nos from everyone except Jax, Ghost, Walker, and Boone.

Nessie’s mind flashed to a conversation she’d overheard last week. Boone and Ghost had been gone for three days—something about a horse auction. She hadn’t thought much of it, but they hadn’t returned with any horses. Actually, they hadn’t even taken a horse trailer with them.

The timing lined up perfectly.

She glanced between the four men, noting their carefully blank expressions.

Oh, God.

They had done this.

She didn’t know how. Even with Ghost’s help, there was no way Boone would’ve been able to sneak into Alek’s penthouse and catch him off guard. The bastard was far too paranoid.

But they had done something.

And now Alek was dead.

Jax’s arm tightened around her in warning, but she had no intention of giving them away. How could she? They’d slayed the demon that had haunted her for her entire adult life. She wanted to bake them a damn cake.

“Uh-huh,” Brandt said after a drawn-out silence.

He didn’t sound convinced, but he didn’t push.

“Well, that’s the good news. The bad news is he did know you were here in Solace.

He had a newspaper clipping with a grainy photo of you and Oliver from the night Oliver went missing, and his phone records show he was in touch with someone in this area on the night of the fire. We think he hired someone to set it.”

She pressed her knuckles to her mouth. “Oh, God. It was him all along?”

Brandt nodded. “Appears that way. Now that he’s dead, I doubt anyone else will come after you, but I’m staying in town for a while, just to make sure.”

“So, if you’re sticking around, you gonna muck stalls for us?” River drawled, leaning against the fence with a lazy grin. “Get some manure on those fancy shoes?”

Brandt’s expression didn’t change, but he raised his middle finger in River’s direction without breaking eye contact with Nessie. The gesture was so unexpected from the usually composed marshal that she couldn’t help the startled laugh that escaped her.

The tension in the air seemed to dissipate slightly, and Brandt’s face softened. He stepped forward and pulled Nessie into a quick, awkward hug that caught her completely off guard. It was the first time he’d ever touched her beyond a handshake in all the years he’d been her handler.

“You’re safe now,” he murmured against her hair, his voice gruff with an emotion she’d never heard from him before. “It’s really over.”

Before she could respond, he released her and stepped back, already rebuilding his professional facade. “I’ll be in touch,” he said, then turned and walked back to his SUV without another word.

Nessie watched him go, her mind still reeling from the news.

Alek was dead. The monster who had haunted her nightmares for years was gone.

She should feel something—relief, joy, maybe even grief for the man she’d once thought she loved.

But all she felt was numb, like she was floating somewhere outside her body.

“Mom?” Oliver said, snapping her back to reality. “Who’s Alek?”

Her heart stuttered in her chest. Of course he would ask. He’d heard the name, seen their reactions. Oliver missed nothing.

“Yo, little man,” Jonah called out before she could formulate an answer. “How about you and me take Lazy Susan for a spin? She’s been asking about you all morning.”

Oliver’s face lit up, his question instantly forgotten. “Really? Can I ride her by myself this time?”

“We’ll see how she’s feeling,” Jonah said, offering his hand. “Come on, I’ll let you help me saddle her up.”

Oliver looked to Nessie for permission, practically vibrating with excitement.

“Go ahead,” she said, forcing a smile. “Just listen to everything Jonah tells you.”

As Oliver raced off with Jonah toward the stables, the other men gradually dispersed, returning to their interrupted tasks with the quiet efficiency she’d come to appreciate about them.

Walker caught her eye briefly, giving her a slight nod before heading back to the barn.

She understood the message: You’re one of us now. We protect our own.

Soon, only she and Jax remained by the corral. His arm was still around her, steady and warm, but she could feel the way his body had gone rigid. Guarded.

He waited until the others were out of earshot before speaking.

“You okay?”

She nodded. “Yeah. I think so.”

“You know I didn’t kill him, right?”

“I know.”

“But if I had…” He swallowed hard. “If Ghost, Boone, and I made sure he’d never hurt you again—whispered in the right ears—would that change how you see me?”

“No.” She turned to face him and cupped his stubbled cheek in her palm. “He knew where I was. He would’ve come after me. He would’ve taken Oliver.”

His jaw flexed under her hand, and his eyes went hot and fierce. “Over my dead body.”

This man would kill for her, would die for her, and somehow that didn’t scare her. Instead, it filled her with a warmth that spread through her chest and settled deep in her bones.

Alek was dead. The shadow that had haunted her for years was gone.

She was free.

She buried her face against his chest, her fingers digging into the solid muscle of his back as the first sob tore from her throat.

All the fear, all the vigilance, all the looking over her shoulder—it was over.

Oliver would never have to run again. She would never have to teach him a new name, a new story, a new life.

“It’s okay,” Jax murmured against her hair. “Let it out.”

And she did.