Page 93 of Branded Betrayal

“I need some air,” I rasp, hugging the robe around me. I grab the tin of cookies I baked earlier, slip my feet into my slippers, and walk out onto the porch before sinking onto one of the faded-wicker chaise longues. Collapsing against the cushion, I pull the lid off the tin and breathe in the familiar scent of Ms. Eloise’s cookies. I take a bite of one of the cookies and stare up at the stars the way we used to do so long ago, sharing secrets and stories and hopes and dreams.

I hold the tin out to him when he appears, like anything about this is normal.

I did a fair amount of grief baking after the morning chaos at Red Rock. I needed to do something with my hands, to take my mind off what I lost. But sweets can’t soothe my wounded soul. They can’t bring back what I want.

Even if what I want more than anything is standing right on my porch.

He may as well be a mirage.

Blaze clears his throat. But there’s nothing he can say to make this better or easier.

Giving him an ultimatum and trying to force him to stay with me was stupid and desperate. I’m not that naive girl anymore. But ironically, in the process of finding a new purpose here at Red Rock, I’ve lost touch with the strong and independent woman I’ve become.

“What are we doing?” I finally ask when the silence becomes thick enough to choke me.

“I don’t know,” he says.

I snap my head around to look at him. “That’s not good enough anymore. You have to give me something, Blaze. Something true, for once.”

He runs a hand through his hair. “Savannah—”

“No. Don’t give me more excuses. I just slept with you. Again. Even though every instinct told me to slam the door in your face and run.” I sit up on the longue, my eyes narrowed on him. “So you owe me honesty. No cryptic bullshit. The truth. Why you left. Why you came back.”

His gaze falls to the floor and he nods. “You’re right. You do deserve that.”

All the air seems to deflate out of his lungs as he sinks down next to me. “There’s a lot I never told you, a lot that happened in my family after my mom died. Not even Nash, Colt, or Wyatt knows the whole story. I kept it to myself. Felt like it was my burden to handle. I didn’t want to drag anyone else into my shitstorm.”

I sit up straighter. “Okay . . .”

He leans forward, clasping his hands together. “After Mom died, my dad fell apart. Started drinking, made bad choices about our family’s business. He racked up gambling debts he couldn’t pay. So he got involved with the wrong guy, borrowed money to settle all the debts.”

He pauses, but I resist the urge to touch him. Instead, I study his chiseled profile in the moonlight, waiting for him to say more.

“But he just kept making bigger and bigger mistakes, generating huge debts that could never be paid off.” He turns his head to look at me. “This man who lent him money is a criminal, Savvie. He’s involved with all kinds of crimes—extortion, smuggling, money laundering.”

“So what did your dad do?”

“He made a deal with the guy. Offered me up to work off the debts on his behalf.”

My stomach clenches in a knot, and I recoil. “Wait, so your father basically handed you, his teenage son, over to a crime syndicate? To save his own ass?”

Blaze sighs. “Yeah. But he thought it’d be a couple of jobs and the debt would be cleared. But that’s not how these crime rings work.”

“What did you do? And for how long?” I can barely croak out a whisper.

“I worked for him for a couple of years. I did transport, mostly. And I didn’t ask questions. Guys like that just want you to do the job and shut up about it. Squeaky wheels get fucking crushed. I saw that firsthand. He didn’t like it when anyone challenged him or showed any signs of weakness. So to protect my family . . .” His eyes cloud over. “. . . and you . . . I did what I needed to. I figured after those two years, I’d be done. I tried to control everything that was spiraling for so long, until it was too much. And I left for the military because I needed to get away from it all, get away from my father, start fresh somewhere else.”

“Right after my parents’ funeral,” I mutter.

“The timing sucked, but it was something I had to do. I couldn’t breathe here anymore. It was too toxic. And I figured with me being gone, all the shit with the crime syndicate would have fizzled.” He scrapes a hand down the front of his face. “But it didn’t. It followed me overseas. My dad fucked up again, and when it came time to pay up, he gave the guy my contact information instead, and he put me to work.”

“I don’t understand. How could this syndicate control you overseas?”

“That’s the thing about criminals. They have wide nets and big networks. So I ran side jobs and sent money back home. Someone in my platoon found out what I was doing the night when a deal went sideways, and I got caught.”

He stares up at the sky, and in the light, I swear I see tears pooling in his eyes.

It’s a few minutes before he speaks again.