Page 12 of The Mountain Man’s Untamed Bride (Mountain Man Sanctuary #4)

“Mountain Man to the Rescue”

Bodhi

"Two, please. No, make it three," I told Danny, Flint's oldest son who was working the counter at Hawk's Nest Outfitters. I pointed at the security cameras on display. "And throw in those motion sensors, too."

"Planning to monitor wildlife?" Danny asked, scanning the items. At sixteen, he was already nearly as tall as his father, with the same mischievous glint in his eye.

I grunted noncommittally. The only wildlife I was concerned with was the guy who'd left his watch on my property.

My phone vibrated in my pocket—unusual this far into town where service was spotty at best. I pulled it out, expecting Flint asking if I wanted to grab lunch.

Instead, three words from Scarlett sent ice through my veins:

SOS PSYCHO FIANCé HERE

My training kicked in—the Ranger I thought I'd left behind in Afghanistan surfacing like he'd never been gone. I slapped cash on the counter, forgetting the change as I bolted for the door.

"Bodhi, your security cameras—"

"Keep them," I called over my shoulder, already sprinting toward my truck.

The engine roared to life, tires spitting gravel as I peeled out of the parking lot.

The road between town and my cabin had never seemed longer.

Every bend in the mountain pass was an obstacle, every second that passed was time Scarlett was alone with Langley—a man who'd tracked her across multiple states.

I pushed my truck beyond what its worn suspension could handle. Langley's appearance wasn't random. The black Mercedes we'd spotted in town, the expensive watch deliberately left where I'd find it—this wasn't desperation; this was calculation.

Five miles from home, I killed the engine and coasted the final stretch in neutral. I parked behind a stand of pines, grabbed the hunting knife from my glove compartment, and moved silently toward the cabin.

The black Mercedes was parked in my driveway like a challenge. Through the windshield, I could see no driver waiting—Langley was inside. With her.

My cabin came into view, front door splintered around the lock.

I circled to approach from the blind spot below the bedroom window, keeping to the shadows as I'd been trained.

Eight years in the Rangers hadn't been forgotten—my body moved automatically, each step silent despite the forest floor's tendency to announce every visitor with cracking twigs and rustling leaves.

Through the kitchen window, I caught a glimpse of movement—Scarlett backing away, hands raised defensively. Langley's voice carried through the cracked window—measured, reasonable-sounding words delivered with an undertone of menace.

"...making a scene, darling. What will the congregation think? Your father had to explain your little breakdown to the church board. They're all praying for your...mental health."

I positioned myself by the back door, listening.

"I told you, Langley, I'm not coming back," Scarlett's voice was steady despite the fear I could hear beneath it. "The engagement is over. I don't care what my father promised you or your family."

"Oh, sweetheart," his voice dripped with condescension, "that's not how this works. Your father and mine have arrangements. Business arrangements that require our union. Your... feelings... aren't relevant to the larger picture."

A crash of something breaking, followed by Scarlett's gasp.

"Look what you made me do," Langley's voice hardened. "Always making me demonstrate my point. This is why you need guidance, Scarlett. Strong, firm guidance."

That was enough. I slipped through the back door, my footsteps silent on the wooden floor I'd laid with my own hands.

From the kitchen, I could see into the living room where Langley had Scarlett cornered.

His back was to me, but I could see the rigid set of his shoulders, the way his manicured hand gripped her arm hard enough to leave marks.

The perfect image he presented—expensive clothes, all-American good looks—stood in stark contrast to the shattered ceramic mug at his feet and the wild look in his eyes.

His movements were too quick, his speech too rapid.

The constant sniffing, the jaw clenching—classic signs of someone riding a cocaine high.

Just like Scarlett had suspected when she told me about him.

Great. Not just an entitled asshole, but a coked-out entitled asshole.

Scarlett's eyes found mine over his shoulder. The relief that flooded her face was quickly masked as she focused back on Langley, not giving away my presence.

I moved into position, calculating the cleanest takedown with minimal risk to Scarlett.

"I've already explained to your father how we'll handle this," Langley was saying, his fingers digging deeper into her arm.

"A few weeks at that private wellness center in Arizona.

Very discreet. They specialize in... adjusting attitudes.

By the time you come home, you'll be properly grateful for structure again. "

Scarlett's eyes widened in real fear. "You're talking about locking me up."

"I prefer to think of it as intensive pre-marital counseling," he smiled, the expression never reaching his eyes. "A reset. By the time we say our vows, you'll be the perfect pastor's daughter again. The perfect wife."

"I think the lady already gave you her answer."

Langley whirled, keeping his grip on Scarlett, yanking her partially in front of him like a shield.

"Who the fuck are you?" His eyes narrowed, taking in my appearance with obvious disgust. "The mountain hobo she's been slumming with? This is a private conversation between my fiancée and me."

"Ex-fiancée," Scarlett corrected, attempting to twist free of his grip.

Langley's fingers dug deeper into her arm. "Semantics, darling. We both know how this ends."

I stepped forward, keeping my voice calm despite the fury building inside me. "Here's how this ends: You let her go and leave my property before I remove you. Your choice how that happens."

He laughed, a sound entirely devoid of humor. "Do you have any idea who I am? Who her father is? This little rebellion is cute, but it's over. Scarlett belongs with me, in Atlanta, fulfilling her obligations to her family and our community."

"I don't belong to anyone," Scarlett snapped, still struggling.

Langley's free hand shot out, grabbing a fistful of her hair and yanking her head back. "The Richardson family doesn't just walk away from deals, sweetheart. Your father knows that. Why do you think he was so eager to make this match? My father practically owns half his church board."

I moved closer. "Let her go. Now."

"Or what?" Langley sneered. "You'll what, mountain man? I have the best attorneys in the Southeast. I'll bury you in lawsuits. Trespassing, kidnapping, assault—take your pick. By the time I'm done, you won't have this pathetic cabin or anything else."

"You broke into my property," I pointed out. "You're assaulting a woman who's clearly told you to leave. Your legal threats don't impress me."

His eyes darted between us, the cocaine making him even more erratic. "She's coming with me. Her father wants her home. The wedding is still happening. Too much depends on it."

"She's not going anywhere she doesn't want to go."

"You don't understand what you're interfering with!" His voice rose, desperation creeping in. "This union is about more than just marriage. The Montgomery-Richardson alliance means power. Influence. Money. Years of planning. I'm not letting some backwoods nobody ruin that."

"You know what's nice about living this far from civilization?" I asked, closing the final distance between us. "No witnesses."

Langley's expression flickered. "What?"

"Fun wilderness fact," I continued. "I can make your body disappear and feed you to bears before anyone knows you're missing."

His eyes darted toward the door, calculating escape routes. The confidence began to crack.

"You're threatening me," he said, voice rising. "That's assault."

"No," I corrected. "This is assault."

I moved faster than he could process, closing the distance between us.

One hand broke his grip on Scarlett's arm while the other executed a pressure point hold on his wrist that had him gasping in pain.

I spun him, using his own momentum against him, and had him face-down on the floor with his arm twisted behind his back before he could even shout.

"Scarlett," I said calmly, "the landline is on the kitchen counter. Call Mabel at the general store. Tell her to get the sheriff out here for a break-in and assault."

She nodded, backing away toward the kitchen, rubbing her arm where angry red marks were already forming.

"You can't do this," Langley wheezed beneath me, struggling ineffectively. "Do you know who my father is? The connections I have?"

"Out here?" I applied slightly more pressure, making him yelp. "Your connections mean less than bear scat. And I'd love to explain to the sheriff how you broke into private property to enforce your 'engagement' to a woman who clearly wants nothing to do with you."

Fifteen excruciatingly long minutes later, the sheriff's cruiser pulled up outside. The aging lawman took one look at the situation, sighed deeply, and pulled out his notepad.

"Another city slicker causing trouble, Wilder?" he asked, eyeing Langley with the weary resignation of someone who'd seen too many tourists create problems.

"Breaking and entering, assault, and threats," I confirmed, finally releasing Langley but staying close enough to intervene if necessary. "And possibly stalking across state lines."

Langley immediately launched into a tirade about his rights, his family's importance, and how Scarlett was having a breakdown and needed to return to her family. The sheriff listened impassively, then held up a hand.

"Son, I don't care if your daddy is the President. You broke down a door on private property and put hands on a woman who doesn't want your attention. That's enough for me to take you in while we sort this out."

After taking statements and photographs of Scarlett's bruised arm and the broken door, the sheriff led a handcuffed and still-protesting Langley to his cruiser.

"I'll need you both to come in tomorrow to make formal statements," he told us. "And Miss Montgomery, might want to call your folks, let them know what's happened here. Seems there's been some miscommunication about your whereabouts and intentions."

When the cruiser disappeared down the mountain road, the silence felt oppressive. Scarlett stood in the center of the living room, arms wrapped around herself, looking smaller and more vulnerable than I'd seen her.

"You okay?" I asked, keeping my distance despite wanting to pull her into my arms.

She nodded, then shook her head, then let out a strangled laugh that sounded dangerously close to a sob. "I'm sorry I brought this to your door."

"Don't," I said firmly. "None of this is your fault."

"You don't understand," she whispered, sinking onto the couch. "I didn't tell you everything about what was happening with my family."

I sat beside her, leaving space between us. "I'm listening."

"My father's church had financial trouble last year—a scandal involving misappropriated funds," she explained, her voice hollow.

"Langley's father bailed them out, but it came with strings attached.

The biggest one being me." She looked up, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears.

"I knew about the arranged marriage part, but I didn't know they'd go this far.

That talk about a 'wellness center'—I think he was serious. "

"He's not taking you anywhere," I assured her. "Not without going through me first."

"Why are you helping me?" she asked suddenly, those green eyes searching my face. "I've brought nothing but trouble since I arrived."

"That's not all you've brought," I said.

"What else?"

I struggled for words, not my strongest skill at the best of times. "Life. Before you came, I was just... existing. Going through motions. You brought chaos, yes, but also..."

"Also?" she prompted when I trailed off.

"Light," I finally managed. "You brought light back to a place that had been dark too long."

Her eyes filled with tears, but a small smile curved her lips. "That's unexpectedly poetic for a man who communicates primarily in grunts."

"I have hidden depths," I deadpanned, relieved to see her smile widen.

"I've noticed," she said, moving closer until our thighs touched. "Thank you for coming when I needed you. For believing me."

"Always will," I promised, before I could consider the implications of 'always.' "No one touches what's mine."

The words hung between us, and I immediately backpedaled. "Not that you're mine. Or anyone's. People aren't possessions. Unless you want to be. Mine, that is. Not a possession." I scrubbed a hand over my face. "I should stop talking."

To my surprise, Scarlett laughed—not the practiced, artificial laugh she'd used when she first arrived, but something genuine that lit up her entire face despite the tear tracks on her cheeks.

"You're adorable when you're flustered," she said, leaning her head against my shoulder. "And for the record, I wouldn't mind being yours. In a completely equal, mutually exclusive way."

The knot that had been in my chest since reading her SOS text finally loosened. I wrapped my arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer.

"We'll figure this out," I promised. "I'm not letting him near you again."

"My hero," she murmured, but without the sarcasm that would have laced the words days ago.

She looked up at me then, her expression making my breath catch. Without makeup, her hair a mess, wearing my too-large flannel shirt she'd grabbed in her panic—she'd never looked more beautiful.

"I think I'm in trouble, Bodhi Wilder," she whispered.

"What kind of trouble?"

"The kind where I came here looking for an easy solution and found something much more complicated instead." Her fingers traced my jaw. "The kind where I might be falling for a mountain man who talks to chickens and threatens to feed my ex to wildlife."

"That is trouble," I agreed, turning to press a kiss to her palm. "Especially since that mountain man is definitely falling for you."

When our lips met this time, it wasn't the desperate passion of our earlier encounter. This was something deeper, something that felt dangerously close to a promise.

We had a long road ahead—legal battles, confrontations with her family, figuring out if a city girl and a reclusive military vet could actually build something real together.

But for the first time since she'd arrived in her mud-splattered BMW with designer luggage and impossible expectations, I allowed myself to hope.

Colonel chose that moment to appear at the window, pecking insistently at the glass as if demanding a status update on the threat to his territory.

Scarlett broke the kiss with a laugh. "Your chicken is jealous."

"He'll adjust," I said, pulling her back into my arms. "We all will."