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)
Rhett and I can’t help but overhear her end of the conversation, especially when she asks, “What kind of compounds?”
After a long pause, she says, “Consistent with narcotics packaging or processing residue,” as if she’s repeating it back.
Rhett’s jaw locks, and I stop breathing for a second. It’s not a surprise at this point, but the confirmation still hits hard.
Wren’s free hand curls at her side. “I understand. … No, I’m at a secure location.”
Secure location. Our cabin. A flash of possessiveness moves through me, and it feels satisfying.
Cade comes in and immediately spots Wren on the call. His eyes take in her bare legs next.
“Yes,” she says into the phone. “I’ll stay put. No additional fieldwork without coordination.”
Damn right.
Her supervisor says something else, and Wren’s shoulders stiffen.
“I know,” she says. “I will.”
She ends the call and stands still for a moment, looking out the front window.
Outside, a jay screams like something being murdered, but none of us moves until Wren turns around.
“The preliminary lab screen came back positive for narcotics residue. My supervisor is contacting the DEA field office immediately.”
Rhett nods slowly. “That changes things.”
“It changes the jurisdiction,” she says.
I keep my voice gentle even though I feel like breaking something. “You okay, Wren?”
She lifts her chin. “Yes.”
It’s a lie, but I’m not going to call her on it.
Later in the day, when Wren’s out on the back porch, working on her laptop, Rhett sits at his computer, making phone calls to clients.
He reschedules the first one with the calm, level voice of a man who could tell someone their truck was on fire and make it sound like an inconvenience rather than a crisis.
The next call lasts longer.
“Yes, ma’am. I understand.” After a pause, “No, safety is the issue.” Another pause. “We’ll refund the deposit or apply it to a later date. Your choice.”
When the call ends, he crosses out the date in his notebook, then looks over at me, where I’m standing in the doorway.
“Everything okay?” It’s clearly not, but the question comes out before I think better of it.
Rhett stares back at me without answering.
“You’re doing the face,” I say.
“I only have one.”
“Not true. You have the command face, the disappointed big brother face, the someone-moved-my-tools face, and whatever this is.”
He arches a brow. “This is my trying-not-to-murder-my-brother face.”
“Ah, classic.” I step inside and lean against the doorframe. “Don’t know how I could have forgotten that one.”
His mouth twitches briefly, then returns to its scowl.
I glance at his screen, where there’s a financial spreadsheet open. “How bad?”
“Manageable.”
“Rhett.”
He exhales through his nose. “For now.”
We have a cushion, but we don’t have unlimited room to turn away clients while a cartel, or whatever the hell this turns out to be, uses the wilderness as their own private highway.
“You okay, Prime?”
He closes the laptop and gets to his feet. “No, but we’re handling it.”
That’s Rhett. He’s always moving ahead. It doesn’t matter if it’s grief, debt, war, danger, or love. He takes the weight, calculates the load, and keeps walking.
I want to make a joke, but I don’t.
That night, I cook dinner, because the alternative is Rhett’s competent but uninspired grilling. Cade would be satisfied eating cold rations from a pouch for days on end, but the occasion calls for comfort food.
When everything’s done, the four of us sit down to meatloaf with brown sugar sauce, mashed potatoes with a generous amount of butter, and fresh biscuits, because Wren seemed to really enjoy them the first time she was here for dinner.
Tonight, when she takes her first bite of potatoes, she closes her eyes for a second, like it’s a small, private pleasure. My blood turns hot, and it has nothing to do with the stove.
“That good?” I ask.
Her eyes open, and she catches me watching her. “I’m trying not to embarrass myself.”
“By enjoying the food?”
“By making noises over it.”
Cade coughs into his hand, and when Wren realizes what she said, her cheeks flush with color.
“Wren,” I say softly, and her eyes meet mine. “When you want to make noises over something I give you, you go right ahead.”
Rhett’s fork hits the table.
“Jesus,” Cade mutters.
Wren’s mouth parts, and for a moment, nobody moves. Then her eyes drop to her plate, and she speaks in a careful, even tone. “The food is delicious, Boone.”
Rhett picks up his fork and points it at me. “Don’t make me regret letting you cook.”
“You’d starve without me.”
“I can grill.”
“You can apply heat to protein.”
“It’s edible.”
“So are MREs, but there’s a reason Cade isn’t in charge of meal planning either.”
Wren laughs, and the sound carries through the cabin like music. It appeals to all three of us in an instinctive way, and Wren notices. Her laugh fades, and her hand tightens on her fork. Rhett looks away because he has more discipline than either of us. Then Cade glances down at his plate, but I keep watching Wren because she’s beautiful, and I can’t pull my eyes away.