Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 114793 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 574(@200wpm)___ 459(@250wpm)___ 383(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 114793 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 574(@200wpm)___ 459(@250wpm)___ 383(@300wpm)
We were all quiet for a second, then Webb leaned over the table and started typing the guy’s name into his laptop. After a few clicks, a polished headshot appeared on the screen—smiling confidently, dressed in a crisp suit, with teeth so white they looked like they could cut glass.
“Darren Redell,” Webb read aloud. “Born in Louisiana and based in Orlando. His public image is squeaky clean. If he was running for Senate, he’d either be a powerful ally—”
“Or a liability,” Eddie finished. “Depending on what he knew.”
“And if he started asking the wrong questions,” I added, throat dry, “Colin would’ve made him disappear.”
I looked at the screen again, at that fake-polished grin. He was supposed to be the face of something better and cleaner. But all I could think about was that horrible, wet sound of concrete being poured and the way the men on that site hadn’t spoken a word as they'd done it.
Webb looked up at me, jaw tight. “They’re not just cleaning house. They’re silencing anything that could be used against them.”
I nodded slowly, knowing what he wasn't saying out loud—I was next on the list.
The drive to the ranch was long enough for me to think too much and short enough to feel like I hadn’t done anything about it.
I was behind the wheel of one of the bad guys’ SUVs, with the windows down, my hair tied up, and sunglasses covering my eyes that hadn’t slept. It smelled like sweat, old fast food, and a hint of motor oil, and I hated how easy it was to slip into the role of someone I wasn’t. Like I’d borrowed the life of someone dangerous.
Behind me, Webb’s truck followed close, and the taillights of Eddie’s ride were visible in the rearview. They were transporting the prisoners between them, who were still tied, blindfolded, and hopefully—for Eddie and Webb's sakes—silent. Well, unless they were divulging secrets that we needed to know...
I turned off the main road and followed the long gravel drive through vast pastureland lined with wooden fencing and tall oak trees. It had to be noted that the suspension in the SUV was slightly better than Webb's truck because my teeth didn't rattle in my gums this time. That didn't mean it didn't shake my brain around in my skull.
A few ranch hands came out to meet us, confusion turning to quiet understanding as Webb and Eddie unloaded the men from their trucks. Marcus walked out of the barn, wiping his hands on a towel, his eyebrows shooting up when he saw the haul.
“Christ,” he muttered. “This is your version of bringing home strays? At least I keep it to horses and wildlife.”
Webb didn’t bother with pleasantries. “We need to use the feed barn.”
Marcus nodded once, then barked something over his shoulder to the ranch hands. None of them asked questions, they just moved to do what needed to be done.
I helped where I could, but Webb kept me at a distance while they carried the men into the building. It was remote, sturdy, and looked built like a bunker with thick walls and a single locked entry. By the time they’d secured the prisoners and set up a rotating watch schedule, the sun was high in the sky, and the air smelled like dry hay and dust.
Marcus clapped Webb on the back. “Your usual place is open.”
Webb gave him a smile that didn't reach his eyes. “Appreciate it.”
We left the others behind and walked toward a small cottage on the edge of the property. It was made of white clapboard, with a deep porch and a narrow path lit by strings of solar lights that flickered to life as we passed.
Inside, the cabin was simple but warm, with a lived-in kind of charm. Just a single open room that held everything—a bed tucked against one wall, a worn couch facing a fireplace that looked like it hadn’t been used in months, and a small kitchen area in the corner. Webb locked the door behind us, then turned and leaned against it, watching me with an unreadable expression.
“You did good today.”
“I stole a car,” I pointed out, kicking off my boots. “Technically.”
“Borrowed,” he corrected. “From a man who was planning to kidnap you. I don’t think the law’s gonna split hairs.”
We didn’t speak for a moment after that. The weight of the day pressed down on us both. There were so many moving parts, each one entwined with the next—threats layered beneath even more threats. And the silence stretching between us was thick with everything we hadn’t said.
“Shower?” Webb offered softly.
I nodded, suddenly feeling like that was the best plan at this moment. “Please.”
The bathroom was small, the kind where you could touch every wall if you stretched, but it had hot water, and the window was cracked open to let in the cool night breeze. Webb turned the knobs, testing the temperature, until steam began to fog the mirror.