“Apparently, he wants to sell it now that it’s of no use.”
“Take me to him.”
I’m snapped out of my violent fantasy by Aurelia’s insane request that I immediately deny. “Absolutely not. You’re not going anywhere near him.”
“That’s not up to you, Khalil. He’s my uncle. It’s me he wants dead. He’s going to find out I’m alive sooner or later. Why not let it be on my terms?”
“Because it’s dangerous. Think about what he gains by killing you, Goldilocks. He’ll try anything.”
“You won’t let him hurt me,” she says quietly, appealing to my protective side.
It almost works, but she forgets one thing. “You’re damn straight because you’re not going. You’ll have to try harder than flattery to convince me to risk you.”
Aurelia’s lips part to tell me once again that it’s not my decision just for it to once again fall on deaf ears.
“I’ll take her,” the sheriff interrupts with a sigh, as if he’s volunteering to end our bickering.
“Thanks, but we’ll pass.”
The sheriff gives me a hard look. “As the young lady has already pointed out, Mr. Poverly, it’s not up to you or me. I’m not any happier about it than you, but if what you both claimed is true, Ms. George is not your prisoner, and the ranch is legally her property, which means she can damn well go where she likes. Personally, I’d feel better if I were there as a deterrent to any unsavory acts given your claims about your uncle’s intentions.”
“So you believe me?” Aurelia asks with a high note of hope.
The sheriff’s expression shutters. “I’m not saying that either, but it doesn’t matter what I believe. I’ve failed you once, and I won’t do it again.” Knowing when I’m cornered, I grit my teeth and say nothing. To do otherwise would only poke more holes in that bullshit story Aurelia gave him. “I’m glad we’re all in agreement,” the sheriff says with a grunt before snatching his hat from his desk and plopping it down over his thinning hair. “Shall we go?”
AURELIA
Khalil hasn’t spoken a word to me since we left the sheriff’s office. I’m pretty sure it’s by design, choosing instead to silently fume the entire drive as we tailed the sheriff to the ranch. But there’s also a distracted pinch to his brow that tells me this isn’t about control.
He’s using the limited time we have until we reach the ranch to come up with a plan for how to keep me safe.
He also wants to throttle me, but he’ll have to get in line.
As soon as we left the station, Khalil had radioed up to the cabin to warn Thorin and Zeke where we were going. There was violence in Thorin’s tone when he signed off, and I still felt the tight grip of his fury twenty minutes later.
My nerves are shot by the time we reach the short gate blocking access to the paved driveway. The gate and the brown picket fence it’s attached to are both easily climbable, so I figure it was built by the previous owners more for the aesthetic than for security.
It would have been the first change my uncle would have ordered if I’d ever arrived—higher walls and armed guards because he doesn’t understand how to keep a low profile. After a couple of months in hiding, he probably would have leaked the information himself to a few of his most loyal paps just to spark intrigue and keep me relevant.
The rustic house, which is bigger than I imagined, sits about a thousand feet away with rolling hills behind it and the Cold Peaks looming even farther away in the distance.
We wait for a few minutes while the sheriff speaks to someone over the call box. A few seconds later, the gate slowly parts with a mechanical whir and we’re driving through. My arm shoots out to grab Khalil’s hand that’s dangling over the cupholder, and he gives mine a squeeze in return that says he’s here.
He’s got me.
I didn’t expect him to comfort me since he’s clearly pissed at me for putting myself in this position, but I’m even more surprised that I doubted him. The first thing I fell in love with about Khalil is his unerring loyalty.
As we get closer to the house, more of the characteristics that were obscure when we first arrived become distinct.
What if my plane had never crashed, and I’d arrived here three months ago?
Once my resentment and anger at being exiled eventually faded, I would have found peace in the solitude. I might have even come to enjoy the view. I can almost imagine myself relaxing on the wraparound porch with my bare feet propped on the railing as I sip from a steaming cup of coffee and admire the beauty of the snowcapped mountains that belong in a painting.
Never once guessing that my destiny lay within those peaks.
After a few months away, once the world began to crave Aurelia George—flaws and all—my uncle would have shattered my peace and whisked me back home to give the people what they wanted. And I would have gone back never having knownthem. My mountain men.
But no, that’s not right either. Because if my uncle had his way, I never would have made it home at all. Rather than wait for the world to change their hearts, his plan all along had been to send the death squad after me and preserve what was left of my image and my legacy while he could.
