Ten
swung the ax over his head. Working his muscles with practiced precision, he brought the blade down. A satisfying crack rent the air as the log broke apart, the halves toppling to the ground. He stacked the two pieces along with the others. He bent, grabbed another section of the large oak, and placed it on the stump.
Swing. Crack. Stack.
Swing. Crack. Stack.
He breathed in the warm mountain air and sank into the movement of the ax. He had a chainsaw in the barn, but the manual labor gave his muscles a much-needed workout. And it gave him time to think.
Brandon hadn’t called.
Waiting was a necessary evil in Booker’s line of work—hell, in life—but he fucking hated it. Some guys got off on the adrenaline build up of being leashed in limbo. He’d seen it over and over again in Afghanistan. Like dogs at the starting gate right before the doors were opened, soldiers would hunker down, get more and more pumped as they waited for the signal to move. To them, waiting was foreplay. The signal to move out was their orgasm, their high.
Not for him. Limbo gave him fucking hives. It filled him with a nervous energy so far from pleasurable he might as well be suffocating.
Hence the two hours he’d spent repairing the stalls in the barn and the current wood chopping.
Swing. Crack. Stack.
He paused long enough to pick up his cell phone and glare at the screen. He checked the signal. He willed the fucking thing to ring.
“What is it about a sweaty man with an ax that’s so incredibly hot?”
Booker slid the phone into his back pocket. He glanced over his shoulder to find Ellie staring back at him. She looked good enough to eat in her usual jeans and tank top—a black one today.
“I can honestly say I have no idea.” He swung the ax one final time, lodging it into the stump. He grabbed his T-shirt from the wood pile where he’d discarded it earlier. He swiped it over his face and down his torso.
She held out a bottle of water. “As much as I hate to interrupt such an incredible display of manliness, you looked like you could use this.”
“Watching me chop wood is a turn-on?” The oak he’d been working on had died. He hadn’t planned to cut down any others, but … huh. “Good to know.”
He took the bottle from her. He bent and placed a kiss on the side of her neck. “Thanks, baby.”
She watched him drink, her gaze alight with mischief. “Have you worked up an appetite?”
His dick stirred. “That depends. What’s on the menu?”
She spun away as he tried to pull her into his arms. He stalked toward her.
“Oh no, you don’t.” She held her palms out, backing away with each step he took. “While your sweaty muscles are easy to look at, I don’t have a large collection of clothes to choose from. I’d like to keep these clean, if you don’t mind.”
He’d take care of her clothes situation tomorrow. He’d take her shopping in Bozeman and buy her whatever she needed. “You’re right,” he said solemnly. “Except for one thing.”
“What’s that?”
“I do mind.”
He lunged at her. Ellie yelped, turned, and ran toward the main house.
Booker easily overtook her within a few yards. She screamed in delight as he hooked an arm around her waist and lifted her off the ground. “Where do you think you’re going?”
He set her down in front of a wide oak and spun her to face him. Her cheeks were flushed, her gaze full of promise and hope and … his heart kicked … love.
She hadn’t said the words, but it was right there, shining in her eyes the exact same way it had on their wedding day.
His knees almost gave out. He went at her mouth like a man possessed. And he was. With a twelve year old pent-up need for her.
He slipped a hand under her tank and palmed her breast. Her nipple beaded against the thin lace of her bra. He latched on, rolled the bud between his thumb and forefinger. He shoved his other hand between her legs and pressed the seam of her jeans against her sex.
Damn, the heat. She was burning for him.
She rocked against his hand, moaning.
His cell phone rang. Brandon’s ringtone.
No. No, no, no.
The bastard.
Booker broke the kiss and slowly removed the hand from between her legs. Panting, Booker rested his forehead against hers. Under different circumstances he might let the call of to voicemail. Not today, though.
He plumped her nipple one more time before he let her go.
“Your timing sucks, man,” he said into the phone.
“I’ve got news.”
“Tell me.”
“My hunch panned out,” Brandon said. “I went over the names on the spreadsheets with a friend of the family. Cooper Jackson. He’s the sheriff over in Burnet County.”
“And?”
“The businesses coincide with an ongoing investigation into organized crime throughout Texas.”
“Motherfuck. Are you kidding me?”
“What is it?” Ellie asked.
Booker zeroed in on where her fingers toyed with the locket around her neck. Needing to ease her, he motioned her closer. He wrapped his arm around her and pulled her tightly to his side. He activated the speaker so they both could hear.
“I wish I were kidding,” Brandon told them. “The guy I mentioned last night, Dean Sanchez? He’s been on law enforcement’s radar for some time under suspicion of money laundering and drug trafficking through several of his businesses.”
“Let me guess, the same businesses listed in the files on Owen’s flash drive?”
“You got it. Alec figured out the key to deciphering the information. Once he did that, a picture started to form.”
“How is Owen involved?” Ellie asked, clearly shaken to learn her boss wasn’t just a possessive douche, but a potential criminal as well.
“Owen kept a detailed account of the money moved through each company. That in itself indicates he’s involved in the process on some level. Or Owen’s trying to set Sanchez up for a fall, and he has someone on the inside helping him. That’s for the feds to figure out. Dean Sanchez is not a good dude. Can you imagine what Dean would do to Owen if he found out the guy was keeping detailed records of his criminal dealings? We’re talking Soprano’s-blown-kneecaps-dirt-nap kind of shit. Not even prison would stop Sanchez from taking Owen out.”
Booker swore a blue streak. “In other words, Owen will do whatever it takes to get the drive back, and he thinks Ellie has is.”
Beside him, Ellie trembled. He rubbed her arm, not liking the clamminess of her skin. “It’s okay, baby,” he said against her ear. “We’re going to get through this.”
Raising his voice for Brandon to hear, he asked, “Has law enforcement picked either of them up for questioning yet?”
“You know things don’t work that quickly. There’s a process. It’ll be soon, though. The cops have had eyes on Sanchez for the last hour or so, and as soon as they locate Owen, they’ll watch him as well.”
“What do you mean locate Owen?”
“He isn’t at his house or at work. Don’t worry. He’ll turn up.”
Booker tried not to tense, but panic hit him like a blowtorch to the chest. “You need to find him, Brandon. You need to find him right godda—”
A shot rang out a second before white-hot pain seared through his left side.
The phone flew from his hand. Booker was aware of Ellie reaching for him, screaming his name as he stumbled. His foot caught on a tree limb and he went down. Hard. An explosion went off in his head and his vision blurred.
“Booker!”
He tried to move, but his body wouldn’t cooperate.
“Run, Ellie,” he choked out. “Get out of here.” Fuck. The pain was excruciating. “Keys…in…the truck. Go!”
Booker fought against the darkness that was coming for him at top speed. And lost.
#
was so much blood.
Ellie dropped to her knees and crawled toward Booker. “No, no. Please God, no. Booker!” Sobbing, she shook him, praying for a response. When none came, she dropped her forehead to his chest. “Please, Booker. Don’t leave me. Please,” she choked. “Not again.”
“Get away from him, Elizabeth.”
Ellie gasped as Owen Jennings stepped out from behind a tree, gun in his hand raised and ready for business.
Ellie surged to her feet. “Owen? You did this?” Her voice rose to near hysteria. Booker was bloody, possibly dead, and it was all her fault. “H-how did you find me?”
Owen’s gaze dropped to her neck. “With a little help from your mother.”
Her hand flew to her throat as realization dawned. “What did you do?” She ripped the locket from her neck as though it were on fire and tossed it to the ground. Too little, too late.
“When I was taking inventory of your mother’s things, I found the locket. I knew you would appreciate the trinket, so I had it cleaned. I also had a minuscule tracking device embedded behind your mother’s photograph.” His voice rose with every word. “You weren’t being cooperative. Someone needed to keep an eye on you. You didn’t have anyone else. I took care of you. I looked out for you. I wanted you, and this,” Owen jabbed the gun in Booker’s direction. “This is how you repay me?”
She glanced down at Booker and her breath caught. The rise and fall of his chest was shallow, barely discernable, but it was there. Her knees threatened to buckle. He was alive.
“I saw you, Elizabeth,” Owen spat. “You let him touch you. You let him grab your cunt and paw you like an animal. Against a tree, no less. I should’ve known all those times you told me ‘no’ you were just playing coy. You were hoping I would take what I wanted anyway. You should’ve told me, darling, instead of allowing this piece of shit to touch what belongs to me.”
Owen stepped forward, a murderous glint in his eye. He would kill Booker if she didn’t do something. She had to distract him, keep his focus on her.
“He’s dead!” she screamed. “It doesn’t matter anymore because you killed him!”
Owen’s gaze darted to Booker, his expression smug.
No, no, no. Don’t look at him. Look at me.
She backed away from Booker, every step like a knife in her heart.
Owen stood between her and the cabin, so there was no chance of getting to the weapon Booker had there. Booker said the keys were in the truck. She didn’t want to leave him, but what other option did she have? If she could make it to the truck, she could run Owen’s ass over to ensure he wouldn’t finish the job he’d started.
Tears streamed her cheeks and she prayed she was making the right decision.
“And you’re delusional if you believe I ever wanted you.”
Ellie turned and ran, wagering her life and Booker’s that Owen wouldn’t be able to resist the chase. That his arrogance would demand he take her down and force her to submit.
She hadn’t underestimated Owen’s actions, but she had miscalculated his ability for speed.
Terror froze her blood when she heard the pounding of Owen’s feet behind her. He’d closed the distance quicker than she expected. She’d never make it to the truck before he caught up with her.
Dodging left, she ran up the stairs leading to the back door of the main house. Lungs burning, heart pounding, she threw open the door. She darted through the living room and hit the stairs to the upper level, taking them two at a time.
As she reached the upper landing, heavy footfalls sounded below her.
She ducked into the first room she came to, but it was empty, devoid of anything she could use as a weapon.
Shit.
Her heart raced as she jogged across the hall to another room. Jackpot. Someone had left behind a tool belt. She swung the door shut as Owen reached the top of the stairs and saw her. Not finding a lock, Ellie braced her back against the door. She dug in her heels, but her weight was no match for Owen’s.
He rammed the door.
The force threw her off balance, propelled her into the room as Owen stalked through the doorway.
“Don’t make this harder on yourself than it needs to be, Elizabeth. We can work this out. I can forgive your indiscretion. I will have to punish you, of course, to ensure this type of thing doesn’t happen again. You will learn your place and everything will be all right.” He reached out for her. “Come now, darling. I just need you to give me the flash drives Judith sent to you and we can go home.”
Ellie shook her head and took a step back. She faked a stumble, swiping a screwdriver from an abandoned tool belt and holding it flat against the inside of her arm. If she caught him by surprise, she might be able to incapacitate him long enough to get the gun out of his hand.
She didn’t believe for one minute that Owen had any intention of letting her live. He shot Booker. Ellie could ruin him, and they both knew it.
Owen didn’t realize the job had already been done for her.
“It’s too late, Owen. I know the extra drive was sent to me by mistake. I know what’s on it.”
“Oh, Elizabeth.” Owen tsked. “You don’t know anything.”
“I know about Dean Sanchez.” Ellie prayed she hadn’t just signed her own death warrant. “I know you’ve compiled eviden—”
Owen’s expression turned thunderous and he went for her throat. He shoved her against the wall hard enough to force her lungs to empty through her constricted windpipe.
“How do you know that name?” he yelled, his fingers digging into the skin under her jaw. “You couldn’t have worked through the security on those files on your own. Who helped you?” He released her throat and raised his hand. Fire exploded across her face as his palm connected with her left cheek. “Who else knows?”
Ellie struggled to breathe. Owen lifted the gun, placing the business end under her chin. A sob escaped her lips when the hand that slapped her dropped to her breast, the intimate touch making her skin crawl. He pressed the gun against her chin, forcing her head back. His eyes were cold and hard.
“It seems I underestimated you, Elizabeth. I didn’t realize you had people in your life who were smart enough to decrypt files, let alone make sense of them. You led me to believe you were alone in the world once your mother died. No friends. No family. But you’re not the poor little abandoned soul you claimed to be, are you?”
No. She wasn’t. She had people who loved her. People she loved. She’d lost sight of that for awhile, too caught up in her own idea of what it meant to be a family. If she got out of this alive, she’d never make that mistake again.
“You’re nothing but a lying whore.” Stinging pain shot through her as Owen squeezed her breast. “Tell me who helped you.”
From out of nowhere, anger sparked a fire in her gut, muting the gnawing fear. She would never give him the names he wanted. Never. She would protect the people she loved, or she would die trying.
The strength of her resolve gave her purpose and she realized this must be what Booker felt all the time. Strong in conviction. Confident in action. The power of it made her head spin.
“Go to hell.”
“I will pull this fucking trigger, Elizabeth.” Fast as lightning, Owen fired a shot into the ceiling and returned the gun to press against her jaw. “Tell me what I want to know or the next one ruins that pretty face of yours.”
The metal burned against her skin. She was out of time.
Ellie changed the angle of the hold she had on the screwdriver and tightened her grip. She looked him dead in the eye as she lifted her arm out and used every bit of strength she had to plunge the tool into his side.
Bile rose in her throat as the screwdriver penetrated Owen’s flesh. Something warm and sticky covered her shaking fingers. She looked down and immediately gagged. Blood.
Her fingers jerked loose from the screwdriver of their own accord as she sank against the wall. Owen fell back a step, his mouth open in a silent cry of surprise.
Oh, God.
She’d done it. She’d just stabbed a man. The shock of it cost her precious seconds. The next thing Ellie knew, she was staring down the barrel of Owen’s gun.