Page 42 of Branded Betrayal

Six years ago, I lost control of everything, and disaster struck. I couldn’t protect the Carlsons. I couldn’t protect Savvie from the grief of losing her parents. And now she’s back, in danger again. Because of me. So if I can control the situation . . . control her . . . I can protect her.

And I have to hurt her to save her. I have to get in close and destroy her efforts with the ranch to drive her away for good. Because if she stays here in Whiskey Creek, Wilkerson will use her as leverage against me. If she leaves, she’ll be safe.

Except the thought of losing her again cracks my heart open.

I lean forward. “She deserves better,” I murmur into Starlight’s mane.

I’m complicit. Period. If I try to go public with what I know about Wilkerson, he’ll make me and everyone I love pay. And the price would be damn steep.

He’s got my balls in one hand and a machete in the other. And it’d give him great joy to chop them the fuck off if I step out of line.

My phone buzzes again. Wilkerson won’t wait forever. And if I piss him off, he’s liable to send another “message.”

I turn Starlight around, and we head back to the barn. Tomorrow I’ll sabotage something else. Tomorrow I’ll look Savannah in the eyes and lie to her face.

But right now, for just a few more minutes, I can pretend I’m not some asshole who’s caught in the crosshairs of a fucking criminal, that I can exercise my own free will and be out of his grasp, that I can be the man worthy of Savannah’s love.

Once we get back to the barn, my phone vibrates again. I don’t even have to look at the message to know who it’s from. And when I do, my stomach sinks.

My office. Fifteen minutes.

Fuck. He’s not a man who likes to be kept waiting, which I already knew.

And since he is a man who likes to take action first and examine the carnage later, I put Starlight back into her stall and dart over to my truck. A chill slips down the back of my neck when I look up to the storm clouds moving in overhead.

Looks like there’s more than one storm brewing.

The drive to Wilkerson’s office has my stomach in knots. Dark thoughts pollute my mind, the anticipation making my heart thunder in my chest.

I pull up to an office he keeps in town. It’s off the beaten path and away from the storefronts and crowds of townsfolk around Main Street. When you’re a thug-ass criminal, you want to keep a low profile, flying under the radar so you’re not being chased down by nosy eyes.

Years ago, I sat right here thinking I could handle Wilkerson. And my whole world crumbled around me when I challenged him.

I need a different plan this time if I’m gonna beat him at his sick and twisted game.

Gritting my teeth, I throw open the door and step onto the pavement. Leaves on the trees lining the sidewalk flutter faster as the wind kicks up. The rumble of thunder echoes ominously in the air, a distant crack of lightning illuminating the dark sky.

Here we fucking go.

Wilkerson doesn’t wait for me to speak. Once I step into his office, he’s out of his chair, his face a deep red, eyes sparking with ire.

“When I tell you to do something, Hartman, there’s no room for negotiation. Understand? You deliver. Period.”

I stand in front of him and fold my arms over my chest. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“The Boot Barn last night.” He lifts an eyebrow. “Who the fuck told you to go riding in there like her knight in shining armor? This job is about one thing—me getting control of Red Rock Ranch. Not you saving your damsel in distress when, from what I hear, she didn’t even want your help.”

Rage claws up the sides of my throat, but I bite back the words I want to spew at him because they’ll only come back to haunt me and who knows who else.

“I need to get her to trust me so it makes sense when I show up to Red Rock uninvited. You want me to do this job? I have to make sure she’s not suspicious of me. Everything I do builds that trust.” My nails dig into my palms. “And if you don’t like the way I work, then find someone else to take my place.”

He smirks. “Just make sure you don’t fuck up this job. Now, I hear she’s working on some things to get the place back up and running. I don’t want her to get any ideas about ways that she can save that ranch. She needs to understand that when bad shit happens, you need to cut your losses and move on with your life.”

I flex my fingers, cracking each knuckle like I’m snapping bone after bone in Wilkerson’s body. “I’ve done my part. And she’s struggling.”

“I don’t believe you,” Wilkerson says. “Prove it.”

“Just the other day, I saw her water pump was broken. I pretended to fix it so it’d work for a little bit, but I cracked a piece of the spout in the process, just enough. It’ll only be a matter of time before it gives way and the entire pump is fucked.”