“From her bag, there was a folder with our name on it and I looked.” Marley says as she lifts her chin and squares her shoulders, obviously conveying she doesn't care if she was snooping.
“Well?” I ask, getting impatient.
He hands the papers to me as he says, “They’ve doubled the offer, and based on the language, they have already bought some property around us.” He takes a deep breath, “We might need to bring someone in to translate all the business jargon in the letter.”
This must be a copy of the letter that sat untouched in the stables yesterday after she left. I look over the figures, and some of the lingo in the letter is Greek to me; things like zoning and reclassifying. For the first time, fear skitters up my spine. I lift my eyes to meet Mason’s, “He’s right, some of the language in this letter sounds a little less than cordial.”
Mason’s eyebrows shoot up his forehead, “Doesn’t fucking matter, they can’t make us sell our land.”
“They may not be able to make us sell it all, but this sounds like some type of eminent domain technical bullshit that can force us to cede some of our land.”
Dad and I exchange a look before he says, “Let’s just be safe and call someone to make sure there isn’t anything underhanded happening here.”
The beating of helicopter blades has us all looking at the ceiling in confusion, like turkeys watching the rain.
“What the fuck?” Mason mumbles and turns to the door.
We all hurry through the kitchen to the side porch that overlooks Marley’s stables and see a helicopter lowering close to the open area between the house and the paddock. It takes a minute to realize who it is, but we watch Mason’s best friend and teammate, Jax, lower himself down a rope and drop to the ground.
He doesn’t slip and I glance at his military boots to see ice grips bigger than the ones we use strapped around his shoes. He’s tall like Mason, but he used to be a SEAL before their boss, Callum, plucked him from DEVGRU when he formed his off the books black-op team, so he’s lean and much more graceful than any of us.
The helicopter hovers for a bit until he stands and gives them the thumbs up. Covered in head to toe thermal gear, he’s walking toward the porch like he drops out of a helicopter at our house every day.
He’s only been here twice, once a few months ago when Sloane was kidnapped and nearly killed by traffickers. They hunted them down and took care of every one of the fuckers when they got her back.
Then he dropped in for a couple of days after New Year’s Eve.
Marley steps half-way behind me as Mason steps forward and Jax jogs up the steps like some kind of graceful ice skater to shake his hand. He pulls the goggles and mask off his head with a smile on his face. His hair was shoulder length the last time I saw him, but is short now and sticking up every which way. “Thought I would drop in and hitch a ride when Callumcomes to get you.”
Mason lifts an eyebrow and points at the retreating helicopter, “How the fuck did you get anyone to fly you here in this?”
A shit-eating grin moves across Jax’s face and he briefly glances at Marley and back to Mason. “You doubt my powers of persuasion?” He nods his head in greeting to each of us but stops on Marley. “Hi, Marley.”
Mason’s eyes narrow as he looks at Jax and Marley takes a step back, keeping her gaze on his chest. “Hi.” She turns and goes into the house without another word, the smile on Jax’s face falters.
Dad turns to follow her and says, “Well, let’s get out of the damn cold before we all freeze to death.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
ELLY
THE DELICIOUSsmell of roast and potatoes tickles my nose, pulling me out of oblivion, and makes my mouth water as I half open my eyes to the darkening room. Rustic decor is all around me, all the furniture is wooden and looks antique, and there are Native American tapestries on the walls.
The gray light through the clouds outside is the only light in the room, and the big window framed with heavy drapes hanging on each side has frost on some of the edges. It's hard to tell if the light outside is darker because of the clouds and sleet I hear softly tapping on the glass, or if the sun is moving into early evening.
I’m nestled in soft, warm bedding, a welcome relief after the past couple of nights in a hotel bed. The fluffy comforter is maroon like the accents in the tapestries and the sheets are tan and soft like silk. My eyes snap open all the way as thefamiliar smell on the pillow drifts into my nose, it smells like the big guy, Gray, who held me against him to warm me in front of the fireplace.
Shit. I spring up into a sitting position and it makes my head reel and it feels like it’s swelling and deflating like a balloon with each throb over my eye. Reaching up, I touch a bandage taped across my eyebrow and forehead and let my fingers glide down the side of my face that’s been wiped clean of the blood.
Someone cleaned me up.
The comforting smell of campfire and sandalwood on his bedding takes me right back to sitting in his lap, his arms tight around me, holding me hard against his chest while his big hands slid up and down my back to generate heat. Even after yesterday, when he and his brother told me to leave and not come back, he still wanted to help me.
Even knowing who I am, he still put me in his bed. My panic eases just a bit, and I let my head rest in my hands for a minute to wait out some of the throbbing.
Closing my eyes, I remember the feel of his beard scratching against my head, my cheek against the solid muscle of his chest, and his deep voice when he told me to put my hands under his arms. Demanding but caring at the same time.
Opening my eyes, I slowly lift my head and glance around the room to confirm it's a bedroom that’s in use. It’s clean, I’ll give him that. On the bedside table, under the lamp, is a picture of the little girl who was standing so confidently in front of me, telling me her dad would make everything okay. In front of that is a book,Lonesome Dove. It looks like a western and the edges of the paper cover are frayed and splitting.
