Over the next several days, I coordinate with the Lords and Oz to set up the ambush. There’s no way to predict exactly when Fowler will drive up here — or even if he will — but I’m banking that he’s frustrated enough by now he’ll take off as soon as his mole feeds him the intel on where Isabel is.

Isabel was the one who had the idea to try to work it for a Sunday. She remembered what the lady who checked us in said about the lodge office being closed. And we definitely want to keep this shit as on the down low as possible. The last fucking thing we need is any civilians getting caught in the crossfire.

We’re in luck as far as that’s concerned. I’ve done some recon around the area and there’s still no other guests staying at any of the other cabins here as far as I can see. We’re as alone as we can be.

The Lords come out in small groups over the course of a couple days, to avoid detection. They make their way here in roundabout fashion, and arrive in the dead of night, hiding their vehicles far from sight of the lodge. They bring food and supplies with them, and sleep rough on the floor of the cabin. Isabel meets them one by one, and if she’s bothered by sharing her living quarters with so many men she takes it in stride.

When all of the brothers Rock sent me are assembled, we crowd into the main room of the cabin to hold an impromptu session of church. Rock’s not here, having stayed behind to avoid suspicion. Isabel goes to the fridge and grabs bottles of beer for everyone, going around the room to pass them around. When she’s finished, she slides down onto the floor next to the edge of the couch where I’m sitting.

Angel calls the meeting to order. As he does, a couple of the men glance over at Isabel and frown.

“She gonna stay here for this?” Sarge asks, a look of disapproval on his face.

Ghost, our Sergeant at Arms, cuts his eyes at him sharply. “She’s involved in this. Her life’s on the line, too. Of course she should be here.”

“Isabel is agreeing to play decoy to lure that fucker here, Sarge,” I half-snarl. “You think she doesn’t have a right to know what the goddamn plan is?”

“Jesus, okay! Okay!” Sarge raises his hands. “It’s just a little weird to have snatch sitting in on church.”

At the mention of the word snatch, it’s like a bomb explodes inside me. I’m up off the couch and across the room in seconds, my hand around his throat.

“Apologize,” I hiss. Sarge’s face turns confused, then angry. I tighten my grip on his throat. “Now.”

Sarge makes a choking sound in his throat, but his eyes turn defiant. “Looks like living with pussy’s turned you soft, Thorn,” he rasps.

The crack of my fist hitting his face resounds through the room.

In an instant, all hell breaks loose.

Men are up out of their seats. Bottles fall to the floor. I’ve got Sarge down on the ground. He’s strong, and probably has a few pounds on me, but I’ve got the element of surprise and I’m also fucking mad as hell. He’s no match for me as he simultaneously tries to land a punch and throw me off him. I block his hand with my left arm and, tucking my chin, head butt him in the face as he tries to rise.

“Fuck!” he yells. Blood spatters from his mouth. I raise my fist to hammer him again, but then I’m being pulled off him by a couple of the brothers.

“Thorn, Thorn!” Angel shouts. “Let it go! We’ve got shit to do here. This ain’t the time, or the place.”

I look around wildly to see who’s got hold of me. To my left, Gunner’s yanking back on my arm. To my right, Beast is staring me down.

“Leave it, brother,” he says simply.

I shake them off and take a step back. Sarge is sitting in a wooden straight-back chair, bleeding profusely from his face. He gives me a bloody sneer but says nothing.

Beast leans in toward me. “What the fuck, Thorn?” he asks quietly. “You claimin’ her?”

I dodge the question. I’m breathing heavily, less from exertion than from seething anger that’s still boiling just below the surface. “Isabel is off limits,” I announce. “To everyone.” I look around the room, meeting every man’s eyes in turn. “And you’ll fucking treat her with respect.”

Angel cuts in. “All right. Let’s move on. We’ve got business to attend to. I’m in charge here, and Isabel stays.”

That seems to cut through the bullshit. One by one, the men sit back down. Isabel goes to the kitchen and comes back with a roll of paper towels, which she wordlessly hands to Sarge. I try not to smirk as he takes them from her and pulls off a few to hold to his bleeding face. She comes back toward me and sits down on the floor again next to me. I look down at her. Her eyes are glistening. She gives me the tiniest of smiles.

“The idea is that Isabel will be alone in the house,” I’m saying as I look around the room. “By herself. She’ll have a burner phone with my number in case she needs it. And pepper spray, in case she needs to incapacitate him before we can get to her.”

Isabel makes a tiny noise in her throat. Looking down, I’m struck by how pale she is. But then she turns her face up to meet my gaze, and nods bravely. I reach down and give her shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

“We’ll be out of sight, in the woods, planted strategically all around the cabin. We’ll need to leave plenty of time so there’s no chance of any of us still being close to the house when Fowler arrives. So we’re looking at a few hours out in the cold.”

Gunner grins. “No worries. We’ve all been through worse than that.”

“How many men you think Fowler will have with him, Thorn?” Angel asks me.

“Hard to say. But the story Oz is feeding his mole is that Isabel’s bodyguard abandoned her, and that she’s been out here alone for a couple of days. She’s scared, and alone, and called Daddy to send one of his men to come pick her up.” I frown. “So, I don’t expect him to come alone, but we’re hoping he’s not bringing more than a few men for protection.”

“You think she ought to have a gun on her?” Hawk asks, nodding toward Isabel.

“We’ve talked about it,” I reply. “But Isabel says she’s not comfortable with that. And in any case, I think Fowler’s gonna be more concerned with, uh, toying with her a little bit before he would want to kill her.” Beside me, Isabel flinches, but says nothing. “This is what I’ve understood from Oz, anyway. It’s his M.O.”

“That sick fuck,” Brick, our Enforcer, seethes.

“If Isabel plays her role right, he won’t be expecting her to defend herself. The pepper spray should be all she needs to immobilize him until we can get to him.” I nod toward the woods outside. “To be fully out of sight, we’ll need to be at least a quarter-mile away. When I get the call from Isabel, that means she’ll have about ninety seconds alone with him until we get here.”

“You sure you don’t want to have someone in the house with her?” Angel asks.

“No.” Isabel speaks up, her voice loud and clear. “If what my father tells Thorn is correct, Fowler’s an intelligent man. If he senses anything at all is up, he’s likely to act unpredictably. We don’t want him to suspect a thing. And for that to work, there has to be nothing for him to suspect.”

“I don’t like this,” Beast mutters.

“It’s what she wants, brother. And for the record, I think she’s right.”

And I do. It’s the smartest way to go. The best shot we have at trapping Fowler and giving him every second of the long, drawn out and painful death he deserves. But fuck, I don’t like it, either. Every cell in my body is screaming at me not to leave Isabel alone for one fucking second. There’s a voice yelling in my head, telling me I’m insane, telling me to stop this nonsense and take her far away from here, far away from everything.

But the rational part of me — the part I’m trying hard to listen to — tells me that if I do that, Isabel will never be safe again. Not as long as Fowler is alive. Men like him don’t let jobs go unfinished. They don’t abandon plans to fuck with someone once they’ve decided someone needs to be fucked with.

I might be making the biggest mistake of my fucking life, doing this.

But I won’t let that mistake be because I hesitated to do what needed to be done. I can’t let my emotions stop me. Fowler must be killed. All decisions need to point to the surest way toward that result.

But if this is a mistake — if anything happens to Isabel because of this decision — it’ll be the last mistake I ever make. I’ll make sure of that myself.

In the end, Beast manages to convince Isabel to let him leave a small, light pistol in a small drawer of the bathroom vanity. “Just in case, darlin’,” he drawls. “You never know.”

I suspect she agrees to it just so he’ll let it go. But I have to admit, it makes me feel a little easier knowing it’s there. Isabel assures me she knows how to use it, and promises me she will if she has to.

That night, the men seek out corners and bits of floor to lie down and catch some rest. A few of them go into the second bedroom and fight it out for one of the bunk beds. Isabel and I go to the main bedroom and close the door behind us. I savor the moment of aloneness with her. It’s one of the last moments we’ll have before this all goes down. The calm before the storm.

“Are you sure you’re ready for this?” I ask her, as we lie together in the dark. I feel her nod and snuggle deeper against me. My chest constricts as I think about leaving her in just a few short hours. It’s possible — though I tell myself it’s not likely — that one of us might not make it out of this alive.

I pray to God it’s not Isabel.

“Thorn?” her voice is small.

“Yes, darlin’,” I answer.

“I’m a little bit scared.”

“I know you are.” I pull her closer. “That’s good. Fear is important. It sharpens your senses.”

“You’re just saying that,” she murmurs.

“No. I’m not.” I kiss the top of her head. “If you don’t let it get the best of you, fear is what keeps you alert. It’s what keeps you focused. You know what to do, Isabel. You just have to stay focused, and do it. I’ll be there to save you. You know that, right?”

“Yes.” She’s emphatic.

“Well, then. We just have to get through the next few hours, don’t we? After that, it’ll all be over.”

Isabel is silent for a second. “What then?” she whispers.

Then, I’ll take you back to Tanner Springs and make you mine.

Then, I’ll tell Oz he can go fuck himself if he thinks I’m ever letting you go.

Then, I’ll lock you up in my own house, and keep you with me and out of danger for the rest of your days.

I clear my throat.

“Then,” I say hoarsely, “I take you far away from this place, and fuck you until neither of us can walk.”

About three in the morning, my burner phone buzzes on the nightstand next to me.

It’s Oz. When I pick up, he tells me the one thing I’ve been waiting to hear. And the one thing I’ve been dreading.

“Playboy has left the area,” he says. “He left town an hour ago.”

I end the call and slide silently out of bed. Pulling on my jeans, I go out into the main room and rouse Angel.

“It’s time,” I say.