Trent locked gazes with Dove. However, a second later, his focus shifted to her left cheek. Blood had started to dry and crust on the side of her face. Bruising had formed on her cheek and around her eye.
He jumped from the sofa and was across the room before anyone could do anything about it.
Except Karl, who stepped in front of him, shoving a gun against his chest.
“Get the fuck out of my way,” Trent said behind gritted teeth.
“Go ahead.” Dutton waved his hand. “Give the love birds a minute. Can’t hurt.”
Karl moved, but not too far, and he kept his grubby fingers on her elbow. Asshole.
"Hey." He cupped Dove's face. She flinched when his fingers grazed her cheekbone, and his jaw locked so hard his back teeth ached.
“It’s not that bad.” She stared at him with steady eyes.
"Who hit you?"
“The SUV.”
“I’m serious.”
“Right now, it doesn’t matter.” Her voice was quiet, but it had an edge. “Before these guys jumped me, I saw the gator you patched up a little bit ago. The one you named Two-Stroke. He was headed out to the bay. Looked good.”
“I’m so glad.” Only, Trent had never named a gator Two-Stroke. Not to mention, he hadn’t patched one up in at least six weeks. Trent had to assume that was code for someone was out there watching. His best guess was that Cullen was out on the water.
He looked down at her hands and then turned to Dutton. "Untie her."
“Sure, why not,” Dutton said. “Go ahead, Karl. Cut her loose.”
“Are you crazy?” Karl asked. “She’s nuts, and she used to be a sniper.”
"She doesn’t have a gun. She’s not going anywhere. Not with the firepower that I brought. We’re fine," Dutton said.
Karl took out a pocket knife and cut her free. He took a few steps back and leaned against the wall by the side door, weapon in hand.
“Sit down, both of you,” Dutton said.
Trent took Dove by the hand and guided her to the sofa, wedging her between him and his father.
Courtney’s heels clicked on the floor as she placed the paperwork on the coffee table with a pen. “Time to sign.”
“I’m never gonna do that.” Trent kept his fingers laced tightly through Dove’s.
“Sign it, and we'll let you walk away with enough money to start over wherever you want,” Courtney said. “If you don’t, well, that’s a different story.”
“We’ll take the different story.” Jack sat up taller. “Because whatever it is, you’re not going to get away with it. Not this time.”
"We didn't want it to come to this. We really didn't. But you've made this more complicated than it needed to be, and now we're out of patience.” Dutton sat on the edge of the coffee table. The one that had been his mother's. The same one that she’d kick his ass for anything other than his clean feet wrapped in equally clean socks being on it.
“Come to what?” Jack actually lifted his feet and placed them on that very coffee table like a man who'd been in worse situations and had made it out. Maybe because he had. “Because I don’t see a scenario where you come out smelling like roses, especially if you have to dispose of us.”
“If it comes to us having to do this the hard way,” Courtney said. “We don’t have to get rid of anything or anyone.”
"No?" Jack questioned. "Because you've got a bunch of armed men on private property, and I don't think they came here to admire the gators." He tilted his head. "The feds are already looking at Sovereign Resources. That's not a rumor—that's a fact. Whatever case Slade was building, he gave them enough to start asking the right questions. And Slade's murder?” Jack lifted his hand and stared at his nails like he was contemplating whether they needed trimming or not. "You think that doesn't come back to you eventually? A former US Marshal, shot twice in a parking lot right before the world finds out my body wasn’t in that casket? And let's not forget, you were one of the other few marshals tasked with my detail. People are already asking questions."
Courtney and Dutton stole a glance at each other. Whatever passed between them, Trent couldn't read.
Trent leaned forward, making eye contact with Dove, then his father.
