My radio chooses that moment to crackle with an emergency call code.
"I have to go," I say, feeling frustrated at the timing. "Lucy, I meant what I said about no charges, but..." I pause, studying her face, memorizing details I have no business memorizing. "Do not leave town just yet. I have a feeling this situation is not over."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean someone stabbed that dog deliberately. Multiple times. That is not random animal cruelty, that is personal." I make my expression serious, letting her see the cop beneath the man who is inexplicably drawn to her. "We are going to need to talk more about this."
The words send a visible chill through her, and something protective and entirely unprofessional rises in my chest.
"Try not to get in more trouble while I am gone," I say, then find myself adding, "I would hate to have to chase you again."
Because the truth is, chasing her got my blood pumping in ways that had nothing to do with law enforcement and everything to do with the way she looked at me like I was a threat and a salvation all at once.
As I walk out of that clinic, leaving behind a mysterious woman with secrets in her eyes and Colt's obvious interest written all over his face, I realize my peaceful life in Briarhaven just became a lot more complicated.
3
Colt
Blood caked under my fingernails, whiskey still burning through my veins from last night's attempt to forget. But my hands stayed rock-steady through hours of surgery. That's what matters. That's all that ever matters anymore.
I settle Dusty into the recovery crate, careful not to jostle the fresh sutures running along his ribs. Seven knife wounds, each one deliberate as hell. Whoever carved him up knew what they were doing but got sloppy at the end. Or maybe they got interrupted. Either way, they missed anything that would've killed him.
The border collie's breathing comes steady now, his black and white coat pristine after I scrubbed away the blood and matted fur. Beautiful animal. Too damn beautiful to die alone in some creek.
Too beautiful to belong to that bastard Beau Blackwell.
My gut twists at the thought. Of all the strays and farm mutts in this county, fate had to dump Beau's prize dogon my table. The universe's got one hell of a twisted sense of humor.
I slump against the metal examination table, exhaustion hitting like a sledgehammer to the skull. Surgery always drains me dry, but this one carved out pieces I didn't know I still had.
Maybe because I know this dog's bloodline. Maybe because every damn stitch dragged me back to summer afternoons when Beau and I were just kids, watching this same bloodline herd cattle on the Blackwell ranch.
Back when we were brothers in everything but blood. Before we let a woman tear us apart.
Sophia.
Her name scrapes raw against my throat.
Beautiful, laughing Sophia with her wild dark hair and promises that felt real as gospel at the time.
For six perfect months, the three of us had something I'd have died defending. Something that worked like magic, unconventional as hell but ours.
Then Beau torched it all. No warning, no fight, just brutal, final rejection.
Said he was done, like those six months meant less than dirt.
Probably got too messy for the almighty Blackwell name, too complicated for his precious family legacy.
And when Beau walked, Sophia shattered right along with him. Said that what we'd built only worked with all three of us.
She was destroyed, lost. Christ, so was I.
Within a week, she'd vanished like smoke, like the whole beautiful thing had been some fever dream that Beau's selfishness twisted into pure hell.
Seven goddamn days. That's all it took to watch my world collapse into ash. The woman I'd have moved mountains for, gone. My brother since we could walk, gone. Everything we'd built sacrificed on the altar of Beau's fucking pride.
I shake my head violent enough to rattle my teeth, cramming those memories back into their cage. Dusty whimpers soft in his crate, and I reach through the bars to gentle his ears.
