SAINT
Wren’s big eyes follow me as Sin pulls her deeper inside the building to keep my wife inside.
Those words ricochet through my head as I barrel out of the front door.
My wife.
I pause outside the door, using the porch to look down across my men gathered in the yard around three parked cars.
Sheriff Knox stands with his hands on his hips, gun pulled forward like he thinks he’s going to have to use it. We’ll only use ours if they use theirs.
His cronies copy his stance in a show of power, but there’s five of them to twenty of us.
“We know you have Wren Delaney in there. So, like I told your boys, bring her out, and we’ll be on our way.”
I cross my arms. “No Wren Delaney here I’m afraid.”
And it’s the truth. Her name is Wren Maddox now.
Knox mimics my stance, not one to be dominated. It has me smirking. His eyes narrow. “She’s been reported missing. From her wedding. She came this way, and according to the owner of the car she stole, it had a major oil leak. So, we know she didn’t make it far. Tire tracks on the side of the road five miles from here. Fresh ones. Evidence a car has been towed.”
The sheriff’s smile as he peers around my club and my men has him looking like he won the detective award of the year. “Only one place nearby I know of with the means of towing a car so quickly.”
The car’s already gone. Broken down into a pile at the local scrap yard. My buddy there never questions where it comes from, and he keeps the profits he gets from what we bring him.
“It’s not here either.”
Knox spreads his legs, hands back to his hips. “Listen. We already know she’s here. Hand her over, or I start tearing this place apart.”
He won’t find anything, but I simply stare back at him, hearing Judge’s heavy steps in the bar behind me. A few seconds shy of Knox pulling his gun to demand entry inside, Judge bursts through the door behind me with all the drama he’s learned from a courtroom.
He’s got a stack of papers in his hand, and he waves them at Knox as my men part for him to walk straight to the sheriff. The got-ya smile on his face has Knox’s frown deepening.
“Knox,” Judge acknowledges. “I’m afraid Saint is telling the truth when he says there’s no Wren Delaney here. See, I have a marriage license here and the name change paperwork. She’s now Wren Maddox.”
Knox’s hard gaze shoots up to me. “You married her?”
Judge shakes more papers at him. “Got that signed and notarized statement from Judge Kristoff that Saint and Wren are legally married. Plus a temporary residence affidavit until we have the paperwork to officially add her name to the deed.”
Knox snaps the papers out of Judge’s grasp and looks them over.
My second is getting cocky. I want to shake my head at him, but I let the silence grow as the sheriff looks over the paperwork and comes to the realization that there’s nothing he can do.
Wren is mine. He can’t have her.
When his eyes lift to mine again, there’s a dangerous glint in them.
“You and I both know what happens when you push too hard,” I say low.
His lip twitches toward a snarl. “Do it, and I’ll expose everything—contracts, shipments. You’ll be hunted.”
“Then make sure you can run faster than us.”
Knox doesn’t leave right away. He shifts his weight from one leg to the other, chest puffed out like he’s trying to decide whether to charge or retreat. His jaw grinds hard enough I can see the muscle jump.
He looks back over the paperwork again, flipping one page like it might magically change. Then he snaps it shut, lips curling in disgust.
Knox hooks his thumbs into his beltloops and glances at his deputies—posturing, pretending this is his decision, not the law pinning him. He spits to the side, a territorial mark in our yard,his eyes raking over my men, looking for a crack, a weak link, a reason to escalate.
