His hand found me — not rushed, not demanding, just steady and certain — making me feel so wanted, so alive.
I worried I wouldn’t know how to make it as good for him, but the way he whispered my name over and over gave me courage.
***
I sigh. How unbelievably happy I was that night, and how full of want and trust we were. Now that part of my life feels wistful, nostalgic almost. Nothing like that won’t happen again at least until he’s sorted his life out. If he isn’t too damaged already.
I brush my teeth, check on Noah one last time, and crawl into bed. The memory of Xaden’s kiss lingers like mountain air. I fall asleep dreaming we’re back in Pisgah.
XADEN
JJ’s text read:Got him. Meet us by the gravel yard. Big Sam’s orders.
Now I’m standing in the dark, boots crunching on the gravel, my heart somewhere between my stomach and my throat.
My Glock presses against my spine, hot and useless. I haven’t drawn it once since going undercover. I’m not supposed to unless my life or someone else’s is in real danger.
Like tonight.
The gravel yard sits just off Route 9. It is an eerie place, the kind where the earth swallows your screams.
Ronnie leans against the car. JJ paces like he’s had three espressos.
In the back of the van, Mike, a small-time dealer who got greedy, is bound and gagged. His wild eyes track every movement.
“Got him in Asheville,” JJ boasts. “Took us two days but I told you we’d get him.”
Mike makes a muffled sound. Ronnie grins. “He’s beggin’. Cute.”
I keep my face neutral. “You call Sam?”
“On his way,” JJ says. “Told him we’ve got the merchandise. You ridin’ with us or playin’ lookout?” He’s testing me again, like a wolf nosing for weakness.
Mike wheezes through the gag. I pull it loose. “Please,” he rasps.
JJ steps forward. “Put that back. I don’t have patience for his whinin’.”
I meet his eyes, cool. “If he passes out before Sam gets here, this whole thing’s fucked.”
JJ hesitates. Then backs off with a grunt. “Fine. But if he screams, I’m breakin’ his jaw.”
Headlights blaze down the dirt road. Sam’s SUV. His muscle, Keith and Collum, climb out first. Then Big Sam himself, bald, thick, terrifying.
“Boys,” he says with a grin. “You brought me something?”
JJ beams. Sam peeks in the van, nods, tosses JJ an envelope.
I should stop this. Draw my gun. End it now. But if I do, Dad’s case dies with it. So I just stand there while they drag Mike out.
Collum mutters to Sam: “Wouldn’t wanna cross Willard…”
My pulse spikes at the sheriff’s name, but I pretend I didn’t hear it. It was clearly a slip of the tongue, and Collum looks terrified.
A second, two, three seconds go by. Just enough time for me to go through my options and find them all lacking.
But then Sam just signals his men. They haul Mike toward the SUV. My stance says relaxed, but inside, I’m screaming. Am I really just standing here, watching someone’s son being dragged away by men whose favorite pastime is cruelty?
Apparently I am.
