Page 47 of Breaking His Exile

Rainey sat on a flat rock beside him, close enough that her shoulder brushed his arm when she leaned in to listen. She’d stripped off the jacket and the long-sleeved shirt, right down to her sports bra. Her skin glistened with sweat in the heat, and she swiped at her brow before accepting the canteen he passed her.

“Thanks.”

She drank, head tilted back, sweat trailing down her neck to follow the curve of her breast. His cock stirred to life.

The stupid, inconvenient thing.

It had little interest in sex for years, and now suddenly she just had to take a drink, and it popped up to say hi like he was a teenager again.

Jesus.

He forced his attention back to the radio, twisting the dial with more force than necessary. The static cleared, and a fragment of traffic cut through— a state trooper reporting a BOLO on a white F-250, last seen east of Solace. The trooper sounded bored, routine, a man reading a bulletin.

Then came a voice he knew. Corbin Brandt, the U.S. Marshal who’d been hanging around Valor Ridge a lot this past year. Sometimes it was business— Nessie Harmon had once been in WITSEC under his care—but mostly the man just seemed to like the ranch and the people on it.

Evander didn’t dare live there himself, but there was a reason he’d settled right on the outskirts. He’d known from hour one it was a special place, one that needed protecting, so he’d made damn sure he knew every person who came through those gates.

From what he could tell, the marshal was one of the good ones.

Brandt’s voice was clipped and professional. “—confirmed sightings of the F-250 near the junction of Old Timber and County Twelve. Vehicle was stationary approximately forty-five minutes, then proceeded east into the national forest. No visual on occupants. No confirmation of the female.”

“Female,” Rainey murmured. “That’s me.”

Evander adjusted the gain. The static resolved.

“—advising all units to hold position. Do not pursue into backcountry without coordination. Repeat, do not pursue. Subject is considered armed and dangerous, and the terrain favors the suspect.”

The transmission broke.

Another voice cut in, rougher. “Brandt, we got a problem at Valor Ridge. They’re prepping for a wedding here in a few days, and the Sons of Sin have a truck and three bikes at the west gate, blocking vendors from getting in.”

Brandt again, tighter now. “Understood. Don’t engage the Sins, and tell Boone to keep Ghost on a tight leash. Last thing we need is a bloodbath. I’ll be there in twenty.”

“Oh, God.” Rainey pressed a hand to her mouth. “River.”

“He’s safer there than anywhere else.”

“I hope so.” She stared west, toward the mountains that hid Valor Ridge from view. “I never should’ve brought this to his doorstep.”

Evander studied her profile. Her jaw tightened, and her hands trembled. She pressed them flat against the rock.

He recognized the fear coming off her and understood it from a distance, almost clinically: River was her anchor, the only family she had left. Love like that was foreign to him. He could picture it, respect it, but he’d never felt it. He’d never really had a family. Just a narcissistic mother and a father who spent more time behind bars than free. He’d never belonged to anyone.

Watching her fight her worry now, he couldn’t say whether he was glad for that or whether he envied her.

Maybe it was a messy mix of both.

“Boone Callahan’s there,” he said. “Ghost. Jax. Bear. Walker. And Brandt’s headed in. Valor Ridge is full of capable, dangerous men. It isn’t a soft target.”

She didn’t answer. Her eyes stayed on the western range. He turned to follow her gaze to the wall of cloud building there, moving fast on a wind that hadn’t reached them yet.

“Storm’s coming. We need to get off this ridge.”

She blinked and seemed to notice the clouds for the first time. “Can we make it back to the cabin?”

“No. But there’s a shelter half a mile down the east face. I’ve used it before.” He packed the radio and held out a hand to her. “Come on.”

“What about signaling Ghost?”