J
Heading out now.
My blood turns to ice water in my veins. They’re really doing this. Right now, while I’m standing here talking about pharmacy certifications and town gossip, Jesse and Truett are driving toward what could be the most dangerous night of their lives.
“You okay?” Nora asks, studying my face with concern. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“Just tired,” I manage to say, slipping my phone back into my pocket. “Maybe we should head to the diner?”
We say goodbye to Atlee and make our way back to the main street. As we’re walking toward the diner, I catch sight of a familiar vehicle parked across the street—Noah’s squad car. He’s sitting behind the wheel, talking on his radio, and something about his posture makes my stomach clench with dread.
“Nora,” I say, trying to keep my voice casual. “What do you think Noah’s doing over there?”
She glances over and shrugs, looking at me as if I’ve lost my mind. “Probably just routine patrol stuff. You know how quiet it gets around here. He’s probably bored out of his mind.”
But I don’t think it’s routine. There’s something alert about the way he’s sitting, something focused about his attention that speaks of more than boredom. My phone feels heavy in my pocket, Jesse’s message burning in my mind like a brand.
The bad feeling that’s been lurking at the edges of my consciousness all day suddenly roars to life, settling in my chest like a living thing with claws and teeth. Something is wrong. Something is very, very wrong.
“Actually,” I say, grabbing Nora’s arm, “let’s step it up. I’m starving.”
I need to get us somewhere public, somewhere normal, somewhere with other people around. Because if my instincts are right, if Noah knows something, if this whole plan is about to go sideways, I need to be exactly where I’m supposed to be when it all falls apart.
As we walk into the diner, the little bell above the door chiming our arrival, I send up a silent prayer to whatever gods might be listening.Keep them safe. Please just keep them safe.
But the feeling in my gut tells me it might already be too late.
EIGHTEEN
JESSE
I’mnervous the entire day, especially when I watch Aubree leave. No job has ever meant so much as this one does. She knows what we’re doing now, and the gravity of all of it is enough to send pain shooting through my sternum. Reaching up, I rub at the ache.
None of this feels good. Not that it ever does, but there’s a definite finality hanging in the air.
Maybe it’s because we’ve decided this will be the last hit, maybe it’s because we’re getting too damn old for all this. Either way, our luck is running out. We all have to know that.
“Are you okay?” Truett asks as we all meet in the barn.
All hands are on deck for this. Carson, Devlin, Denver, and Austin are all here, along with me and Truett. Everyone is cleaning their guns, and I notice that almost everyone has a knee that’s bouncing up and down.
“Yeah, just ready to get this over with. It doesn’t feel good,” I whisper to him.
“I know. I’m trying to decide whether that’s because Aubree knows now, or if we’re just walking into what could be a trap.” He rubs at his jaw. “Bottom line is we have to do it, though.”
“Don’t I know it.”
We hold off until dusk settles along the horizon, and then we load up into three trucks with trailers. This is going to be our biggest take yet. Each truck and trailer will have two people with them. Truett and I, Devlin and Carson, and then Denver and Austin. These are my brothers. They are literally men I’ve walked into battle with. We’ve become almost as tight as a military unit over the years, and that will do nothing but help our cause tonight.
One last time, we each check our weapons, Truett confirms the plan, and we’re off.
The Morrison place sits about forty miles southeast of the ranch, tucked into a valley that’s perfect for what we need to do. Remote enough that screaming won’t carry, but accessible enough that we can get our trailers in and out without getting stuck if we need to move quickly. It’s different looking now than it was the other night when we came out for our reconnaissance mission. Quieter, more serious.
The drive is tense and almost silent. Truett’s hands are steady on the wheel, but I can see the muscle in his jaw working overtime. Neither of us speaks much. There’s not much left to say. We’ve gone over the plan a dozen times. Get in, get the cattle, get out. Simple in theory, complicated as hell in practice.
“Radio check,” Truett’s voice crackles through the comm system we’ve rigged between the trucks.
“Copy,” comes Devlin’s voice.
