Page 29 of Branded Betrayal

Savannah was my anchor, always seeing the man I wanted to be. But I was trapped in my own personal hell with no end in sight because of my father’s choices.

My escape was just an illusion, though.

I was never really free, and Wilkerson made that damn clear when he brought me back to settle my dad’s latest debt.

Footsteps thump down the hall, an imaginary icy hand clenching me by the throat when Dad appears, followed by none other than that scumbag bastard Wilkerson.

“Blaze,” Wilkerson says in that oily voice that could clog a pipe. “I heard you were back. On leave?”

“Yeah,” I manage to choke out. “In between tours.”

He smiles, pleasant enough, but the malice in his eyes flips my stomach. “Enjoy your time off.” Wilkerson nods at Colt. “Your dad has great things to say about you. Looking forward to working together.”

“Same, sir,” Colt says, turning toward me with a cutting glare.

Wilkerson raises his hand to wave, then walks out the door. I narrow my eyes at the front window when a blacked-out Ford Raptor pulls up in front of the house. Wilkerson steps up and slides into the passenger seat, looking like the cat that chewed the canary up and spit it out again.

I whip around to my father. “What the hell was he doing here?”

Dad shrugs. “He approached me with a new business opportunity. Big money. Little risk. We were going over details.”

I snort. “Is that supposed to be code for ‘I fucked up again and need his money to fix it’?”

Colt looks between us, confusion etched into his expression. Realization slams into me hard.

Dad just stares at me, panic in his gaze.

Colt doesn’t fucking know, does he? He doesn’t know about the debts, about the Wilkerson bailouts, about me being his fucking errand boy?

Holy shit.

What the hell would my mom say if she knew the kind of shit Dad sank us into? How he just spiraled after her death, leaving me to clean up his messes? But, of course, Colt and Wyatt were too young, so it all fell on my shoulders.

Clearly, things haven’t changed. Colt thinks he’s being groomed to take over the business. He has no idea that Dad’s been running said business into the ground for the better part of a decade and that I’m the only reason why Dad wasn’t killed years ago for defaulting on his debts.

I stalk past them both, walk into the den, and grab a bottle of Wild Turkey while Dad and Colt head back to the office. My lungs squeeze tight like they’re being lassoed by a thick metal chain as I shove open the front door and get back into my truck. I pull off the bottle cap and suck down a mouthful of whiskey, welcoming the burn of the liquid scorching the sides of my throat. I swing the steering wheel around and speed out the gates. Once I’m on the main road, I drive back toward Red Rock.

There’s no doubt in my mind that Wilkerson didn’t show up at my house today for a business meeting. I’d bet my left nut it’s because he wants to keep tabs on me. And I guarantee he’s got someone . . . maybe a lot of someones . . . watching Savannah too.

Keep your friends close and your enemies closer, right?

Because Wilkerson and I are definitely enemies. The worst of ’em.

I throw the truck into park and shut off the ignition. Grabbing the head of the bottle, I take another long gulp, not giving a damn that me being here screams obsessive.

Can’t control Dad, my brothers, or Wilkerson. Everything is upside fucking down.

Savannah is vulnerable here at Red Rock. She’s isolated and alone, a target for someone like Wilkerson. If I can somehow control this fucked-up situation, I can keep her safe.

Hours pass, and I doze off after the whiskey is long gone. When I wake up, the sky is an inky black. The only lights are the ones glowing in Savannah’s windows. I blink hard and shoot up in the seat.

A shadow moves across the porch.

Or did it?

Maybe I’m seeing things. Peering through the trees, I scout the area by the house. No trucks or cars, other than hers.

My heart stutters in my chest, Wilkerson’s and Nash’s warnings feasting on my brain like a parasite.