“Seems like something the local PD can handle,” Blackwood grits out.
“It’s not an isolated incident. My girl—”
“There it is.”
“There’s what?”
“The real reason you’re callingme for help.”
He’s right. If Wren wasn’t tied to this, I’d leave it up to Davis to solve, but I don’t have time to wait. Not with him escalating.
“Wren’s back.”
He chuckles, low and lifeless. “The one who got away.”
“Yeah. Only, she’s got a situation. Her ex, he was—” I glance over to Grandpa, who’s toeing dirt with his boot, pretending not to eavesdrop. “He abused her. Bad. When she left, he didn’t like it. He found her here and is stalking her. The incidents on the farm hadn’t occurred until she was experiencing issues.”
He hums. “Send me everything.”
I let out a deep exhale, grateful my old friend is helping.
“I will. He’s escalating.”
“Then you’re right to call,” he answers, exhaling a plume of smoke. “I’ll start digging.”
I end the call and slide the phone into my pocket, the air around me suddenly charged with the kind of danger I recognize all too well. It’s the buzz before a mission, when danger looms in the distance as the enemy lies in wait.
Too bad he’s messed with the wrong person.
Grandpa steps closer, resting a weathered hand on my shoulder.
“Proud of you.”
I huff a humorless laugh. “For what?”
“Not handling this alone. Not sure who you called, but it sounds like someone who knows how to get the job done.”
I nod once. Elias Hearst won’t be able to hide for long, not with Tate Blackwood on the hunt.
I’ll tell Wren about the cow, but not until the festival is over. She loves the Fourth of July, and I won’t ruin it for her. I won’t let her out of my sight, though.
We’ll get through our day together and all the plans we have with our friends. Saving all the other bullshit for another day. My girl deserves a day to relax…stress free.
Chapter 40
Wren
“Makesmewantahot dog real bad.”
“You want a hot dog at seven o’clock in the morning?” Jett asks, startling me from my spot on the couch.
I giggle and pause the TV. “No, silly.”
He appears in the doorway, barefoot and missing a shirt, holding a plate stacked with eggs, potatoes, and sausage. This is the way I’ve come to recognize him in the mornings. It’s a sight I’ve very much enjoyed. His chiseled abs cut from granite and winding ink. I discreetly wipe my lip with my thumb, in case of drool.
His attention flicks to the screen, nose scrunching. “What are you watching?”
I roll my eyes. “Only Elle Woods, the genius behind thebend and snap.”
