Page 13 of Ranger’s Justice (Lone Star Wolf Rangers #1)

CHAPTER 12

RUSH

C assidy sleeps, her body draped across my bed like she belongs there. Like she’s always belonged there. My sheets tangle around her hips; her hair spills across the pillow; her flushed skin reflects our recent lovemaking. From how I took her. Possessed her.

I should stay.

The wolf inside me demands it. It growls, pacing beneath my skin, demanding I lock her away, keep her here, safe, untouched by the outside world. The instinct is primal, deeper than logic, deeper than thought. Mine, it snarls. Mine.

But I can’t stay. If I linger, I’ll never leave. And I don’t have that luxury. There’s work to do.

I scrub a hand down my face, my body still buzzing with the aftermath of taking her, of having her under me, wrapped around me, giving me every damn thing I ever wanted. Everything I didn’t even realize I needed. And now?

Now, I don’t know how the hell I’m supposed to let this go.

I shove the thought down, forcing my mind back to the mission. I have to move. I have to keep my focus where it belongs—on the hunt, on the bastards who thought they could take women like they were nothing but a product to be bought and sold.

I ease out of bed, careful not to wake her. She wriggles slightly, her brow furrowing, but doesn’t stir. My gut tightens. I don’t like leaving her. My wolf doesn’t like it either. But I don’t have a choice.

I dress quickly, pulling on my jeans and a fresh shirt before grabbing my gun from the nightstand. One last look. One last second of letting myself drink her in. And then I slip out of the room, closing the door behind me.

The house is quiet. Most of the men are in the war room—a repurposed back den—awaits me; maps, weapons, computers, and files cover every surface.

Dalton and Gideon are already there. Deacon leans against the far wall, arms crossed, his sharp gaze flicking up when I enter. Gage is at the table, flipping through a stack of papers, and Gage is at the window, watching the perimeter.

The second I enter, the air changes.

Dalton leans back in his chair, one eyebrow raised. “So… you good?”

I don’t answer. I don’t have to. He grins like he already knows exactly what happened. Hell, he probably does.

I ignore him, focusing on Gideon. “What do we have?”

Gideon doesn’t waste time with small talk. He slides a tablet across the table. “The trafficker’s intel checked out. There’s a meeting tomorrow night at an abandoned airstrip, thirty miles south of the border. Del Toro’s men are running security, but the buyer is unknown.”

I take the tablet, scanning the satellite images. One road provides sole access, the location remote, the desert stretching out for miles. A nightmare for escape, but a perfect kill zone.

Deacon steps forward. “We also got confirmation that this isn’t just a normal transfer. Whatever Hollister and Del Toro are working on, it’s big. Bigger than we thought.”

I glance up. “How big?”

Deacon’s jaw tightens. “Big enough that they’re bringing in people we haven’t seen before. The buyer is high-level—government or private sector, we’re not sure yet.”

I don’t like that. I don’t like any of this.

If someone with power is involved, this isn’t just about money. It’s about control. Influence. A bigger game than we were prepared for.

Dalton blows out a breath, shaking his head. “This isn’t just another cartel deal. This is something else. And if we go in blind, we’re screwed.”

I set the tablet down, my mind already working through the logistics. We need eyes on the airstrip. Entry, exit, and contingency plans are necessary.

Gage speaks up from the window, his voice quiet but firm. “We’re not letting this happen.”

I nod once. “Damn right we’re not.”

Gideon watches me carefully, his blue eyes assessing. “And Cassidy?”

My wolf growls at the sound of her name.

I keep my voice even. “She stays out of this.”

Dalton snorts. “Good luck with that.”

I shoot him a look. “She stays out of this.”

Dalton shakes his head, grinning. “Yeah. Good luck with that. Can we watch when you tell her?”

I don’t have time for his bullshit. “We move at first light. I want recon on the airstrip. The cartel is running security, but we need to know what kind of weapons they’re carrying, and how many bodies we’re dealing with.”

Gideon nods. “I’ll take the lead on that.”

“Deacon, get with our contacts. See if we can get any names on potential buyers.”

“On it.”

I turn to Dalton and Gage. “Get the gear ready. We’ll need everything.”

Dalton grins. “Now you’re speaking my language.”

I look around the room, meeting each of their eyes. “This is it. We end this.”

There’s no hesitation. No doubt. Every man here is ready.

I should feel satisfied. Should feel like we’re finally gaining ground, but my mind keeps circling back to the woman in my bed—to the way she clung to me, the way she let me take her, the way she looked at me, even after, like she knew, like she felt it too. Mine.

The word echoes through me, settling deep in my bones.

I push it down. Focus. There’s work to do.

I’ll deal with Cassidy later.

The meeting breaks, but Gideon doesn’t move. He just watches me, his arms crossed, that sharp, assessing gaze locked onto mine like he’s trying to decide how much shit he wants to give me.

I’m not in the mood.

“Say whatever you need to say,” I mutter, rubbing a hand over my jaw. “I know you’ve got something.”

Gideon leans against the edge of the table, his fingers tapping once against the wood. “You think I enjoy calling you out, boss?”

I give him a flat look.

“Fine,” he sighs, his jaw ticking. “Then let’s not dance around it. You know your wolf is dying to claim her.”

I stiffen. “This isn’t the time.”

“It’s exactly the time.” His voice, though low and steady, held a sharper edge. “You think the cartel doesn’t have eyes on us? You think Hollister doesn’t know who you’re protecting?”

A growl rumbles in my chest before I can stop it. I hate hearing Hollister’s name anywhere near Cassidy’s. Hate even more that Gideon is right.

He doesn’t flinch. He never does. He just keeps watching me, reading every twitch of my muscles, every flicker of my control.

“Rush,” he says after a long moment, quieter now. “If they realize what she is to you—what she’s becoming—they’ll use her. And I’m not talking about the wolf part; they know nothing about that, but the connection between you…” he pauses as if searching for words “… it’s almost palpable. I envy you that.”

I grind my teeth, clenching my fists at my sides. “You think I don’t know that?”

“I think you’re trying to ignore it.”

I push off the table, shoving a hand through my hair, pacing once before turning back to him. “I’m keeping her out of this. She’s not part of the mission.”

Gideon raises an eyebrow. “Yeah? You tell her that?”

I scowl.

“That’s what I thought.” He exhales slowly, shaking his head. “This isn’t just about keeping her out of the mission, Rush. Your wolf isn’t backing down. He’s already decided.”

I don’t respond, but I don’t need to. We both know the truth. It’s not just the wolf. It’s me. From the moment I first laid eyes on her, something locked into place. Something profound, unrelated to reason, strategy, or logic. She’s under my skin, in my blood, tangled in every instinct I have. She is my fated mate.

And tonight? When I finally took her, finally let go of the leash I’ve been holding so damn tight? There’s no undoing that.

She’s mine in a way that defies reason, mine in a way that makes my wolf claw at me every second I’m not touching her.

Gideon lets the silence stretch before speaking again. “I need to know you can keep your head straight.”

I snap my gaze to him, a growl building in my throat. “I don’t lose focus.”

His lips press into a thin line. “Not saying you do. But you need to be aware of what’s happening. Because if you’re not, she’ll be the one who pays for it.”

My muscles lock. I don’t need the reminder. I already know. Cassidy has a target on her back, and not just because of what she’s uncovered about Hollister. If they figure out what she means to me—what she is—she won’t just be a liability. She’ll be a weapon. A weakness for them to exploit.

The thought makes me see red.

Because if anyone tries? They’ll die screaming.

Gideon watches me for another beat, then nods. “That’s what I needed to hear.”

I exhale sharply, running a hand down my face. “She doesn’t know.”

His eyebrows lift. “That she’s yours?”

I glare at him. “The whole claiming part and transitioning. There hasn’t been time. Her concept of a committed relationship pales compared to what happens between fated mates.”

He grins, just a little, as he places his hand on my shoulder. “Rush, she might not understand all the details but trust me—she knows.”

A muscle in my jaw ticks. He’s probably right. And that presents a whole other problem.

I scrub a hand over my face, exhaling through my nose. This isn't how I wanted it to go. Hell, I didn't want it to go at all.

Cassidy shouldn't be involved. Shouldn't be in the crosshairs of men like Hollister, or worse, the cartel. She's got a target on her back, and the second they realize what she is to me, they'll use her.

But even knowing that, I can't keep her out of it, mainly because short of locking her in a cell, she’s not about to let me. I can't shake the feeling that she might not be safe, not even then. She’s too damn stubborn. Too smart. Too determined—maybe that’s why my wolf wanted her in the first place.

I rake my fingers through my hair, already feeling the storm brewing between us when I tell her she’s coming on the op. Not because I want her there, but because I don’t have a choice. If I don’t include her, she’ll find her own way in, and I’d rather be the one watching her six than find her in the middle of the action without backup.

Gideon knows it too. That’s why he didn’t argue when I gave the order to keep her close.

Dalton, though? He’s going to have a field day with this.

I push off the table and turn toward the hallway. The house is quiet, most of the team getting their gear together, prepping for the run to the border. This next op has to go smooth, has to be executed perfectly.

We’re taking out that shipment. I don’t care how many bodies it takes to do it. But before I go, I need to see her. I need one last second of her being safe, untouched by this life, before I throw her into it. Before I hand her a gun and tell her to fight.

The bedroom door is slightly open when I reach it, and I ease it open wider, stepping inside. Moonlight illuminates the otherwise dark room.

She’s still asleep, curled into the blankets, her hair splayed across the pillow. Her breathing is soft, steady, her lips slightly parted.

She looks peaceful. I hate knowing I’m about to wake her up and tell her she’s walking into hell with us.

I step closer, crouching beside the bed, my fingers brushing over the edge of the sheet where it’s tangled around her hip. My wolf surges forward, the urge to touch her, to mark her, nearly overwhelming.

Instead, I let out a slow breath and whisper, “Mine.”

The word is low, barely audible, but it hangs in the space between us like a vow. Because it is. She’s mine. And when she wakes up, I’m going to make damn sure she knows it.