“Can’t say they did.” Not yet. My mind races through a dozen scenarios. Ways they could have found her. Reasons it could be nothing.
What I’ll do if someone comes for her.
I called Gray when I saw the alarm and hustled Camille out of bed and into the closet. I won’t leave her to check the perimeter myself. If this is real, she’s safest with me—and I’m not taking chances. I still need eyes on the area to know what we’re dealing with.
He sent Landon—the best tracker Lone Star has. If anyone can read the land, it’s him.The kind of man who doesn’t miss what others never notice.
“Could he track me somehow? Put like a bug on the dress or something?” Camille shifts closer and grips my arm. Touching me like a lifeline.
Something shifts in my chest. Like her trust taking hold. I glance down at her in the dim light of the space, taking in her wide, thoughtful eyes, messy waves, and slim frame dressed in my flannel shirt. She still hasn’t fallen apart on me, and I’m amazed at her strength. Her stillness.
She didn’t so much as blink when I ushered her into the closet. Just followed my orders without a word. Like she’s been through this before. Jesus. What kind of life has she had that something like this could be normal? That her first thought is someone bugging her clothes?
“Smart thinking, princess. The dress or that ring.” It’s not on her finger anymore.
Camille seems to sense the direction of my thoughts. “I left it in the bathroom. On the floor with the dress.” She ducks her head. “Sorry, I should have cleaned those up.”
She should have burned them. The fact that she shed the ring along with her tattered wedding gown tells me a lot about her feelings toward her fiancé. “We’ll check them, then make a plan.” If someone is tracking her, we need to move.
Gray would have me bring her to The Ranch. There are cabins on the compound and it’s secure. A smart play. I’d have the extra security of a dozen other guys at any time.
My stomach tightens.
Men who would gladly stand between her and the threat.
Men who would look at her because they couldn’t help themselves. She’s fucking gorgeous, and I don’t want their eyes on her.
I tip my head back against the wall, grinding my teeth. I shouldn’t care. But goddammit, I do.
Camille tucks her legs up against her chest, silent and watchful. Another tremor runs through her body, and it breaks through my willpower.
I wrap an arm around her shoulders and pull her against my chest.
A breathy sigh of relief escapes her lips. She snuggles closer, tucking her head under my chin.
Her floral scent washes over me, tightening every muscle in my body.
Shouldn’t hold her. Shouldn’t touch her.
I draw her an inch closer.
If I don’t take her to the compound, I need another plan. Maybe we leave Texas altogether. Maybe I take her home, to Montana.
My phone pings with a message. I swipe the screen and see four pictures from Landon. There’s a post down along with the camera, and fresh prints.
Landon: You’re clear. Looks like a bobcat chased some deer through here. They took out part of the fence.
Bronco: No other prints?
Landon: No boot prints or tire tracks except yours. Need me to swing by?
Bronco: No. I’ll check with Gray.
Landon: I heard she’s pretty.
A low growl rips from my throat. In my arms, Camille tenses, then slowly relaxes.
Bronco: She’s off limits, asshole.
