Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 73947 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 370(@200wpm)___ 296(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73947 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 370(@200wpm)___ 296(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
I stay near the counter and try not to be obvious as I watch her.
“Well, it’s sent.” She lets out a heavy breath as she closes her laptop. “I’ll see what my supervisor says tomorrow.”
“We need to talk about local law enforcement,” Rhett says.
“Not yet.” My brothers and Wren all look at me. “If that cache is active, whoever built it may be watching the route.”
“Agreed,” Rhett says.
“The Moon Ridge sheriff’s office doesn’t have the manpower to sit on it quietly. If you report it to them, they’ll call for help. That would mean vehicles, radio traffic, and people asking questions.”
Wren looks to Rhett, but he doesn’t respond, so I continue.
“Whoever built that cache isn’t some idiot dumping trash off an ATV trail. Whatever’s in there was concealed by someone who knows what they’re doing, and they’ll know when official attention lands on it.”
“You think they’d move it?” Wren asks.
“That and everything we haven’t found yet,” I say. “If we tip them off before we understand the scope, we lose the chance to see the whole operation.”
“You’re assuming an operation,” Rhett says.
“Someone doesn’t go to that amount of trouble for one-time use,” I say. “The residue we found today likely connects to what Wren found miles away.”
Boone makes a low sound. “He’s not wrong.”
Wren folds her hands on top of her laptop. “I’m not comfortable withholding evidence from law enforcement.”
“We’re not withholding it,” I say. “You sent it to federal.”
After a few seconds, Wren nods. “I agree with not calling the sheriff tonight, only because I already sent all the information to my supervisor. If he instructs me to notify local law enforcement, I will.”
Rhett nods. “Understood.”
Her eyes stay on mine. “If you think you’re making decisions about this on your own, I’ll find different guides.”
Something in my chest pulls tight, but it’s not anger. It’s respect, and maybe something worse.
“That’s fair,” I say.
Boone grins at her. “Yes, ma’am.”
Wren gives him a look that could strip paint, and he smiles like he enjoys it.
I don’t smile because I’m too busy noticing how she drew a line in a room with three former Rangers and didn’t even need to raise her voice.
When Wren’s ready to leave, Rhett wants to follow her back to the motel, but she refuses with one look. We walk her out to her truck instead, because none of us like it and none of us has the right to stop her.
After she leaves, I stay out on the porch when my brothers go back inside.
I can still feel her fingers on my arm and her body against my chest. I still hear her voice from the stream crossing. I close my eyes to blot it out, but it only makes it worse.
I’ve been careful with wanting for years. Careful, like I am around a loaded weapon. Not afraid of it. Respectful of what it can destroy.
People think leaving the Army means the danger’s over, but for me, it was the end of the only thing that gave me purpose. One day, I had a role with structure, orders, and a mission. The next day, I had a duffel bag and a discharge. And I had a future that looked like blank terrain in every direction.
I didn’t handle it well, and that’s an understatement.
Despite having two brothers who tried to save me without being obvious about it, I spent six months losing the battle to get out of bed.
I’d been a Ranger, and then I was nothing.
Boone brought me food I usually didn’t eat, and Rhett came into my room every day to make sure I was still breathing. Sunlight came in through the window, but it seemed like it was part of another world.
I’m better now, but not who I used to be, and I’m not sure I can survive letting myself want a woman and then losing her when she leaves.
And Wren Hollis sure as hell isn’t staying. She has an office in the city, a federal job, a life that exists beyond hiking through the wilderness with us. She’s here for an assignment, and assignments end. Women like Wren go back to their real lives, and men like me stay.
We built Wilder Outfitters because Rhett needed a plan, Boone needed people, and I needed the mountains to give me something solid to put my hands on and wrap my head around.
Our bodies might fit together, but our lives don’t.
I stare out into the darkness, but nothing makes any more sense.
I can handle wanting her body. It’s the rest of it that scares me. The way she trusts evidence more than opinions, the way she doesn’t flinch from hard truths, the way she keeps pace, the way she looks at me like I’m not a problem to solve or silence to fill.
She’s starting to feel like structure, but the last time I built my life around something outside myself, it disappeared almost overnight.