Ethan chuckles. “You boys got yourself a hot little piece of ass tucked away on that ranch, I see. Nice of you to bring her out. Share her with the rest of us.”
I feel it like a live wire snapping in my chest.
Mistake number fucking three.
He tilts his head, still leering. “Bet her pu—”
That’s as far as he gets.
Jasper moves first. He grabs Ethan by the collar and launches him backward as if he weighs nothing. Lawson’s already on Grayson, fist tangled in his jacket, shoving him hard toward the alley, and Beau hooks an arm around the youngest, Caleb, and drags him with a growl, boots skidding as he fights.
I grab Abigail’s hand. “Eyes on me,” I murmur. “You do not leave my side.”
She nods, breath tight but steady, as she stays glued to me as we follow them into the alley. I don’t miss the way passersbys on the sidewalk suddenly look away.
They know who we are.
They know who they are.
And they know that whatever’s happening is likely well deserved.
Small towns and all.
I round the corner of the alley just in time to see Jasper pin Ethan against the brick wall.
Ahhhh… just like old times.
Chapter thirty-one
Jasper
Myfisttanglesinthe front of Ethan’s jacket as I slam him backward, his spine cracking against the brick hard enough that a sick sense of satisfaction runs through me. But the sound also punches something loose in my chest, something feral, and I welcome it all. He wheezes, feet scrambling for traction, hands coming up all too late.
“You don’t get to talk to her,” I snarl, shoving him again. “Ever.”
To my left, Lawson has Grayson pinned to the wall, forearm jammed under his throat. Grayson struggles—actually tries to fight it—until Lawson drives a single, brutal punch into his ribs. It’s a precise hit. Measured. And it knocks the air clean out of him.
Beau’s got Caleb locked up beside the dumpster, arm cinched around his neck in what looks like a lazy headlock if you didn’t know any better. But I do. Beau’s smiling ear to ear. But it’s not the easygoing one he usually wears. No, this one’s sharp, almost delighted. Either way, Caleb doesn’t fight it. Just standsthere stiff, eyes darting between his brothers like he’s waiting for instructions.
Fucking coward.
My forearm pushes harder into Ethan’s collarbone as I lean in close. He smells like cheap whiskey, sweat, and arrogance. “Thought you were one of the funny ones.” He coughs, trying to spit at my boots. “This your girl then, too? Bet she—”
My fist slams into his gut, and out of the corner of my eye, I see her. Abigail’s tucked tight beside Lincoln, exactly where she should be. Lincoln’s hand is locked around hers, grip steady, shoulders squared. Anyone who thinks he’s just a lawyer has never seen him fight. But I have. Plenty of times. He won’t hesitate if he needs to.
Knowing she’s safe doesn’t stop the rage.
It feeds it.
Ethan’s head snaps forward when I drive my forehead into his nose. It hurts like a bitch, but I don’t even care as I watch blood pour down his face. Time to remind these assholes who exactly they’re dealing with.
“You ever so much as look at her again,” I practically growl, “I’ll make sure you can’t see straight enough to recognize her.”
He laughs. A broken, wheezing sound. “You don’t fucking scare me.”
That’s when I grab his throat. I apply just enough pressure to make it hard to breathe. “You should be fuckingterrified.”
Lawson shifts closer, Grayson still trapped under his arm. He hears me. I know he does. But I don’t care. I lean in just enough that my hot breath brushes Ethan’s ear. My voice is venomous now. “You touch our land again, or you so much as breathe her name as if you’re entitled to it, I will fucking kill you. And I’ll bury you so deep in the ground even Keller won’t know where to dig.”
