Page 23 of Branded Betrayal

“Why can’t you wait the six months?” I ask.

“Not that it’s any of your business, but I have a lot of deals in play that are dependent on me getting access to her water supplies. There’s no time to waste, Blaze. I’m not a patient man. Stop stalking the woman and get your ass to work.”

My head jerks left and right. He’s fucking following me too?

He’s got me in a corner, and he knows it. So the only thing I can do at this point is agree to do the fucking job. “Listen, Wilkerson. You want this done, then you’re gonna let me handle it my way. I don’t appreciate people looking over my shoulder. Makes my trigger finger very fucking itchy.”

“Threats won’t work on me, Blaze. You know why? Because you’re still my bitch. And you will be until that ranch is in my name. So you do what I say when I say to do it. Understand?”

I end the call before I say something that’ll get me killed and pound my fist on the dashboard, a knot of anger choking me. He’s got me by the dick, but he won’t do anything to screw me over because for now he needs me. I throw open the door of the truck, my boots landing hard on the sidewalk. Scraping a hand down the front of my beard, I slant a look over my shoulder.

If I see that bastard lurking somewhere, I’m gonna put my fist through his throat. Fuck the consequences.

But there’s no Mercedes hiding in the shadows. No threat to her. Yet.

Through the front window, I see Savannah pick things off a shelf. She heads to the register and laughs at something Mrs. Brixton says. As much as I hate that she’s reserved that part of herself for everyone but me, I know I don’t deserve to have the best parts of her anymore. I gave them up, and even though I regret it every day, I know I made the right choice. Because she’s still alive.

But Wilkerson’s words from years ago stick like barbed wire in my mind as I pace in front of my truck.

I own you, Blaze. And if you mess this up, I will crush you and everyone you care about.

The door to Doc’s Tavern flies open. Nash staggers out, stinking of booze and desperation.

He manages to steady himself, his eyes searing hate when he sees me. “What the hell are you doing here?”

The door chime rings a few storefronts up, and Savannah walks out of the store with an armful of bags. She doesn’t see us, just heads straight to her car parked nearby. I watch until she’s safely inside before turning back to Nash.

He scoffs. “You spying on my sister now?”

“Somebody’s gotta have her back. You’re too busy at the bottom of a bottle to care that she’s drowning at that ranch.”

“You lost the right to get involved with my family business, Blaze.” Nash edges closer, his teeth clenched. “When you deserted me the night of the attack that killed my parents and uncle.”

“When the hell are you gonna get your life together and stop blaming everyone but yourself for what went wrong, Nash?” I bite out. “You think I didn’t pay for what happened that night? I hated that I wasn’t there to help you.”

“Well, someone tipped that rival crew off. They knew about the delivery, and you left me alone to handle it. We coulda held those bastards off if you’d’a shown up. I lost everything that night. The money I made helping out with Wilkerson’s jobs dried up when you took off. Insurance paid out since the police report blamed a propane leak for the explosion, but the settlement wouldn’t cover a rebuild after the debts were paid off. But did you give a damn about any of that?” He stops, fists clenched like he’s gonna crack one against my jaw. “Nope. My best fucking friend left me to fucking rot so he could go play soldier.”

I level him with a glare. “I had my reasons.”

“Yeah, well, you shoulda thought long and hard before comin’ back here. Wilkerson has a lot of enemies, and they all know you ran shit for him. If they find out you’re back here, they’ll come for you.” His stale whiskey breath roils my gut. “And don’t drag my sister into your shit show either. Stay the hell away from her. Otherwise, she’ll have a matching target on her back.”

He pushes past me and stalks across Main Street. Horns blare and tires squeal when he doesn’t bother to look before he crosses.

Blood pounds between my temples, drowning out all sound except for the ominous voice in my head.

If Nash is right, then every fucking man with a grudge is plotting my destruction. And Savvie’s already in the line of fire.

I pull open the door to my truck and sink onto the seat, fingers tightening around the steering wheel as if it were Wilkerson’s throat.

And I’ll burn this whole damn town down before I let anyone touch her.

Chapter Nine

Savannah

How could I forget the damn raspberry jam?

I cover my face with my hands and groan, knowing full well why I forgot the jam at Brixton’s yesterday.