Page 4 of Montana Justice

My father had made it clear what would happen if I tried to leave. What he’d do to my mother in retaliation. The beating I’d taken three days ago had been a gentle reminder compared to what he was capable of when he felt truly threatened.

But I couldn’t tell Lachlan that. Couldn’t explain that Ray Matthews’s grip on his family was absolute, that he’d rather see us all dead than lose control. That even now, at twenty-six, I was still trapped in the same nightmare I’d been born into.

“Yeah, I’ve been all over,” I said instead, carefully avoiding responding to his actual statement. “Nevada, Arizona, New Mexico. Picked up work where I could find it. Waitressing, mostly, some retail. Never stayed anywhere too long.”

“Sounds like quite an adventure.”

If only he knew. If he knew about the truck stops where I’d slept in bathroom stalls. The diners where I’d washed dishes for cash under the table. The men like Buck who’d tried to trade meals for things I wasn’t willing to give, but had had to on occasion.

“Something like that.”

“And you just decided to come back through Garnet Bend?”

“I was in the area.” Another lie, but easier this time. “Figured I’d see how the old place was doing.”

Lachlan studied my face, and I had the uncomfortable feeling he could see right through me. He’d always been perceptive, even as a teenager. It was probably what made him good at his job.

Made him dangerous to people like me.

I forced myself to look around the room again, to remember why I was really here.

The drunk man in the corner was getting louder, more careless.

His buddies were focused on some story he was telling, not paying attention to their surroundings.

If I timed it right, slipped away to the bathroom at just the right moment…

“Well, I’m glad you did,” Lachlan said, pulling my attention back to him. “It’s good to see you, Piper. Really good.”

The sincerity in his voice made my throat tight. When was the last time someone had been genuinely happy to see me? Not because they wanted something from me, not because they were relieved I wasn’t dead, but just…happy I existed?

“So…you’re the sheriff,” I said, desperate to change the subject and stop the dangerous warmth spreading through my chest. “That’s got to be exciting. And scary.”

“A little of both,” he admitted. “Like I said, I’m the youngest sheriff in the town’s history, which means I’ve got something to prove. But I’ve got good people working with me, and Charlie’s staying on as a consultant for the first few months to help with the transition.”

“You’ll be great at it. You always had this way of making people feel safe.”

The words slipped out before I could stop them, too honest and revealing. But Lachlan’s expression softened in a way that made my chest ache.

“Thank you. I try. I really do. Sometimes I?—”

My stomach chose that moment to let out a growl so loud it could probably be heard over the music and conversation. Mortification flooded through me as I pressed a hand to my abdomen, trying to muffle the sound.

“Sorry,” I mumbled. “I haven’t eaten much today.”

Or yesterday. Or the day before that, really. The gas station beef stick I’d bought this morning certainly hadn’t been a full meal.

Lachlan was already signaling the bartender. “We need to fix that right now. Let me buy you dinner. What sounds good?”

“Oh, you don’t have to?—”

“I want to. Please.”

The kindness in his offer made my chest ache. I looked down at the menu again, at prices that might as well have been in a foreign currency for all the good they did me. Twelve dollars for an appetizer. Eighteen for a sandwich. Numbers that represented more money than I’d had in my pocket in weeks.

“The burger looks good,” I said quietly.

“Two of the loaded burgers,” Lachlan told the bartender. “And whatever sides she wants.”

“Fries are fine.”

“Make it the sweet potato fries,” he added. “They’re incredible here.”

I hadn’t had sweet potato fries in… God, I couldn’t even remember how long. The small kindness of it—choosing something I might enjoy instead of just the cheapest option—threatened to undo me completely.

While we waited for the food, Lachlan told me about his plans as sheriff, about community outreach programs and his hopes for building stronger relationships between law enforcement and the town.

I found myself genuinely engaged, asking questions and laughing at his stories about dealing with drunk tourists and runaway cattle.

The food arrived, and I had to force myself not to inhale it like a starving animal.

The burger was perfect—juicy and seasoned just right, with fresh lettuce and tomato that actually tasted like it had been grown in soil instead of a lab.

The sweet potato fries were crispy outside and fluffy inside, dusted with some kind of seasoning that made my taste buds sing.

“Good?” Lachlan asked, and I realized I’d actually moaned out loud.

“Incredible,” I said, not bothering to hide my enthusiasm. “I can’t remember the last time I had a meal this good.”

Something flickered across his expression—concern, maybe, or curiosity about what my life had been like that a simple burger seemed like such a luxury. But he didn’t push, just smiled and kept eating.

As the evening wore on, I found myself relaxing despite everything. The conversation flowed easier than it had with anyone in as long as I could remember. Lachlan told me about the changes in town, about people we’d both known, about everything and nothing.

But even as I laughed at his stories and shared carefully edited tales of my supposed adventures, part of my mind was still working.

Still calculating. The crowd was thinning as people headed home, which meant fewer opportunities.

The drunk man in the corner had finally left, stumbling out with his friends without me managing to get close to him.

I should have been panicking. Should have been figuring out my next move, scanning for new opportunities. But sitting here with Lachlan, feeling safe and full and genuinely cared about for the first time in longer than I could remember… I didn’t want it to end.

I couldn’t bring myself to leave this bubble of warmth and normalcy to face the cold reality of my circumstances. Not yet.

I’d figure out tomorrow, tomorrow.

“Last call,” the bartender announced, and I looked around in surprise to realize we were among the final customers left.

“Wow,” I said. “I didn’t realize how late it was getting.”

“Time flies when you’re with good company,” Lachlan agreed, pulling out his wallet to settle our tab.

I watched him pay, noting the neat way he kept his bills organized, the decent watch on his wrist, the quality of his jacket. He was doing well for himself, clearly. Not rich, maybe, but comfortable. Stable.

Everything I’d never been.

The thought whispered through my mind before I could stop it: He’d be an easy mark. Trusting, distracted by old memories and whatever he thought he saw in me. If I played this right, I could probably get enough to keep me going for weeks.

The idea made me sick to my stomach.

I grabbed my backpack and we walked outside together, and the mountain air hit my lungs sharp and clean. The temperature had dropped since I’d gone inside, and I pulled my jacket tighter around myself, trying not to wince as the movement pulled at my sore ribs.

“Where are you staying?” Lachlan asked.

The question I’d been dreading. “I’ll just grab a room at that little motel on the edge of town.”

Lachlan shook his head immediately. “You can’t do that.”

“Why not?” The words were out before I could stop them. Oh God, was I not allowed to stay in town from all those years ago? Not that I had the money to do so anyway.

“The motel’s completely booked. A bunch of bigwigs from the county in town. Every room in a fifty-mile radius is taken.”

“No problem.” I tried to keep the panic out of my voice. “I’ll figure something out.”

Lachlan was quiet for a moment, studying my face in the glow of the streetlights. Then he said, “Come stay at my place.”

“What?”

“I’ve got a guest room. It’s nothing fancy, but it’s clean and warm and the bed’s comfortable.”

The alternative was sleeping in an alley or under a bridge, and my body couldn’t take that right now. Not with my ribs the way they were, not with winter coming.

And the truth was, I felt safer with Lachlan than I had felt anywhere in years. For reasons I couldn’t explain or justify, I trusted him. Which was either the smartest or stupidest thing I’d ever done.

“Are you sure?” I asked.

“Absolutely. It’s the least I can do for an old friend.”

An old friend. Was that what I was? The label felt both too little and too much at the same time.

“Okay, that would be great,” I said softly. “Thank you.”

His smile was warm and genuine, lighting up his whole face in a way that made my chest tight with longing. “Great. Do you have a vehicle? Want to follow me?”

I shook my head. “No, I caught a ride.”

His smile fell away. “Come on. Let’s get you somewhere warm.”

As we walked toward his truck, I told myself I could handle this. One night of safety, of warmth, of feeling like I mattered to someone. Then tomorrow, I’d figure out my next move. Find someone else to target, someone who wouldn’t look at me like I was worth saving.

Someone who wouldn’t make me remember what it felt like to want to be better than what I was.

For tonight, for just tonight, I was going to let myself pretend that I was someone who deserved kindness. Someone who belonged in a place like this, with a man like him.

Even if I knew it was a lie.