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It figures this happened the moment I decided to stop being stubborn and call Shane. I should have never let him ride away in the first place. Dying scares me, but knowing I might never get to tell him how I really feel hurts more in this moment.

Why couldn’t I stop being stubborn and let him in? Why couldn’t I let myself be happy?

A splinter digs into my palm, and I wince. “Did you see who took us?”

Zander shakes his head. “They came at me from behind.”

“Same.”

A rustling noise comes from outside the barn, and we both freeze our attempts to free ourselves. The side door to the barn swings open, and since there’s only one bulb overhead, at first, all I can make out is the silhouette of a man walking toward us. His right leg drags slightly. He’s not quick on his feet as he closes the door behind him and stalks forward. It isn’t until he steps into the halo of light cast from overhead that I realize who he is.

“Jackson?” My eyebrows pinch.

I didn’t personally know the man who led Shane’s motorcycle club before him, but he came into Ransack on occasion for a drink, so I recognize him. When he did, he always wore a charming smile and tipped well. He was nothing like this scowling man before me.

A large scar runs the length of his face, and his arms are littered with scars from his accident.

“Jackson, what the fuck?” Zander snaps.

I didn’t realize Zander knew him well either, but the way he eyes him with pure malice tells me I’m missing something.

“Let me out of here. I swear if you don’t cut these ropes⁠—”

“You’ll what?” Jackson reaches behind him and pulls out a gun, aims at Zander’s leg, and pulls the trigger.

Zander’s scream echoes off the peak of the barn. He drops to the ground as blood pools in the concrete beneath his thigh.

Jackson grins. “You’re lucky. I missed the artery, so we’ll get to have a little more fun tonight. Unlike you, who sent some cowardly piece of shit to run me off the road, I do my own dirty work. You’re going to know it’s me when I end your piece-of-shit existence.”

“It wasn’t my call.” Zander grits his teeth, and Jackson’s eyes narrow.

“Right. Someone else is always pulling the strings with you, aren’t they? You’re just Big Oil’s puppet, stalking around here like you own the place.”

“We can talk about this.”

Jackson aims his gun at Zander’s head, and Zander clamps his mouth shut. “I don’t want to hear anything you have to say. Your words mean nothing. Not after you went back on our deal.”

I shift, and it catches Jackson’s attention. He cocks his head, grinning at me but not taking his gun off Zander.

“Did you know about your fiancé’s promises?”

“He’s not my fiancé.” My voice wobbles. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Behind me, I continue to pick at the knot, but I can’t think clearly or untie it fast enough.

Jackson continues to point at Zander, but his eyes are trained on me. “Zander was supposed to help the club out. We had a deal. I’d convince Steel to sell mineral rights at Ironside Ridge, and Zander would make the club rich.”

“Steel would never agree to that.” My eyebrows pinch.

I don’t know Steel well. He and Tempe were only in town for a few days. But in that time, their values were clear. They appreciated the ranching community here and didn’t want Big Oil to take it over. Their focus was on the club—the family—not money.

“We can talk. Negotiate—” Zander stumbles over his words.

Jackson storms over, pressing the barrel of the gun to his head. “You’re a fucking snake. Do you really think I’d believe you again? You sabotaged me the moment I set foot here. You didn’t care about helping the club. You were using me to get to the land. And when I pushed back, you had someone run me off the road to keep me quiet. Couldn’t even do it yourself.”

“Zander’s an asshole,” I agree when Jackson tightens his grip on the gun, his finger dancing over the trigger. My comment at least makes him pause, pulling his attention. “You’re right, Zander is a selfish liar. But let’s talk about this.”

There’s no light in his smile. “You should worry less about him and more about yourself, Harloe. We haven’t even gotten to you yet.”