by Nicole Helm
“I needed to let everyone in on what’s going on so Rachel isn’t caught in the crosshairs—”
Rachel made a noise as if to interrupt, but Cecilia kept right on talking, not giving her a chance to object. “There was a vague threat at the rez. She wasn’t safe there, and no matter who drove her here or picked her up, they were going to get a target too. Elijah knows I took Mak, and he might not know where, but everyone I care about is going to be suspect. So everyone needs to know what’s going on, but I need to go back to the rez and my job. If Elijah wants to follow me there, he can go right ahead.”
“No,” Brady said, as if he had any say in the matter.
“I think I’ll make my own dec—”
“No,” Brady repeated.
Cecilia couldn’t physically react what with holding a baby and Grandma Pauline holding the bag of frozen peas to her face. So, she could only do her best to come off as dismissive and haughty.
“And you have some big, bad reason for telling me no as if you have any right?”
Still, none of that darkness clicked off. There was no calm, blank demeanor like she expected. Brady Wyatt was visibly, unrelentingly angry.
Cecilia found that amazing fact undercut her own anger at his high-handedness. Had she ever seen Brady react to anything with this edgy fury? What was causing it? Why did it make her heart flutter?
“Elijah Jones is a sociopath,” Brady ground out. “And a murderer, though I’ve never been able to prove it. He’s Ace’s protégé in every way, and he’s spent the past eight years screwing with me, in particular, because I had the misfortune of being the first Wyatt to arrest him. My first arrest.”
“You know this Elijah,” Jamison said, his voice deceptively calm. Cecilia didn’t believe that calm for one second. “A Sons member, who idolizes our father, targeted you. And this is the first we’re hearing about it? Some eight years later?”
Brady was quiet for a long while, some of his normal stoicism clicking into place as he stood there. But his hand was still clenched in a fist at his side. “I think he would have settled for any Wyatt,” Brady said after a while, purposefully ignoring Jamison’s question. “I got lucky.”
“How?” Jamison demanded.
“Pranks, mostly. Threats, sometimes. Nothing concrete and nothing dangerous. It was just like being taunted. It’s why I didn’t tell you. It was nothing. Just annoying.”
“Why?” Tucker asked quietly. “What’s the motivation? Ace is in jail. There’s no need to win his favor by screwing with one of his sons.”
No matter who asked the question, Cecilia couldn’t seem to tear her gaze away from Brady.
“I couldn’t say. If I understood it, I would have already dealt with it, or told you all about it,” Brady said. With every word he was locking down those pieces of his usual calm. The fire in his eyes banked, the tension in his arms released. He was still intense, but the anger had disappeared. Or he’d hidden it.
“He hasn’t visited Ace,” Jamison said. “If he’s some kind of protégé there hasn’t been a connection since Ace has been in jail.”
Cecilia sighed. “He’s not looking to be Ace. He’s looking to replace Ace. He wants to lead the Sons.” She let her finger trace Mak’s cheek. “If he’s targeting a Wyatt, it’s not for Ace so much as Wyatts are the Sons’ enemy. You guys are the biggest threat to the Sons right now. You took down Ace and Tony. They’ve been scrambling.”
“Eight years,” Jamison said gravely. “That hasn’t been true for the eight years he’s been harassing Brady.”
“True. Maybe there’s something more to it. I can’t speak to that. I didn’t know he’d been harassing Brady either. What I do know is that Elijah wants to take over the Sons. It’s why he started recruiting on the rez. The more people he enlists, the more power he has in the group itself.”
“Why didn’t he start his own?” Dev demanded.
“Why start your own when you can take over one of the biggest, most dangerous gangs in the country? I’m not saying it’s always been his plan. I’m just saying things changed when Ace was arrested. Elijah’s been different the past few months—around the rez, with Mak’s mom. He’s already got his own little group. It’s not enough for him. He wants the Sons.” Cecilia looked down at Mak in her arms. He’d started to doze there, immune to the tension around him. “But first, he’ll want his son.”
Which was why she had to leave. Any security could be breached if there was a constant, determined effort to get through. If Cecilia stayed, Elijah would only work on it until he breached it—which wouldn’t just put Mak in danger, but Grandma Pauline, her sons, the Knights and any of the little ones.
Cecilia couldn’t stick around. And she couldn’t let anyone know she was getting out and leading Elijah away. They wouldn’t let her.
But the sooner she disappeared, the better off everyone would be.
So, she let the Wyatts and the Knights argue it out, and she kept her gaze and her attention on Mak in her arms. If it was going to be the last time she saw him, held him, she was going to soak it all up.
“So, it’s settled then,” Jamison said, always the de facto leader. “Everyone stays put until we have a better read on what Elijah Jones is planning, or even better, until we can find a reason to arrest him.”
Cecilia tore her gaze from Mak and found Brady’s. The anger was back, but he didn’t argue with Jamison. He just stared right back at her as if he knew what she was planning.
But he couldn’t, and even if he did, he wouldn’t stop her.
No one would.
Chapter Seven
“She’s going to bolt.” Brady found himself pacing. He’d already not felt like himself for months now, but these past few days had taken away all his usual coping mechanisms. All the filters and layers he put over his true feelings so he wasn’t...
Well, his father.
This morning was worse. Everyone seemed content to just hang around Grandma Pauline’s, pay extra attention to Cody’s security measures, and wait.
They couldn’t just wait. Cecilia would do something stupid. She was too rash. Too...her. She was going to try to lead Elijah away and Brady seemed to be the only one who realized it.
“Cecilia knows better,” Tucker insisted, shoveling eggs into his mouth. He was sitting at Grandma Pauline’s kitchen table dressed for his work as a detective. Slacks and a button-up shirt. Though he didn’t live at the ranch, he would be staying close just like everyone else while they tried to protect Mak from Elijah.
“She most certainly does not,” Brady returned. “Are you even listening to yourself?”
“She’s a cop.”
“She’s a...” Brady didn’t say “loose cannon” out loud because it sounded like a bad line from some ’80s action movie, but she was.
She always had been.
“I think you’re underestimating her,” Tucker said, with just enough condescension Brady ground his teeth together.
Still, he bit back the words he wanted to say. Because no, you are was childish, even if it was true.
If no one would listen to him, he’d have to take matters into his own hands. He gave half a thought to trying to lure Elijah away himself, but Brady didn’t think Elijah would go for it. Cecilia had been the one to take Mak. Cecilia would be his target. Elijah was too smart to think Brady was doing anything except setting a trap.
Which meant Brady had to get Cecilia and Mak away from here—without Elijah being any the wiser.
“How’s the shoulder?” Tuck asked around another mouthful of eggs.
“Fine,” Brady replied without thinking about it. He gave it a little shrug. He had to admit, it hadn’t been paining him as much lately. Maybe the third round of antibiotics had actually done what they were supposed to.
“When’s your next doctor’s appointment?”
Brady gave Tucke
r a puzzled frown over his sudden interest in doctor appointments. “Next week.”
Tuck nodded. “Then I’d make sure you don’t miss it,” Tucker said blandly, moving away from the table. He took his plate to the sink and rinsed it, and left the kitchen without another word.
Brady frowned after him. It had been a subtle don’t go anywhere. As if by being subtle, Brady wouldn’t read the subtext and be irritated his younger brother was trying to tell him what to do.
Grandma Pauline breezed in, a basket of eggs hooked to one arm. She gave Brady a critical look. “You’re not so peaked looking.”
High praise, Brady figured. “I’m doing better.”
“Good,” she said firmly. “Now, when are you going?”
“Going?”
“Don’t think I can’t see through you, boy. And that hardheaded woman. You’ve both got it in your head to hightail it out of here. Neither of you can let the other do it alone. So. When do you sneak out?”
“I...” He could lie to his grandmother. He’d done it before. It just so rarely worked, and she seemed approving. “I was just going to stop her when she did, then convince her the three of us should—”
“No, you’ll leave the boy here,” Grandma interrupted matter-of-factly.
“But—”
“The safest place for that boy is here, especially if both you and Cecilia take off. Just like when we had Brianna while Cody and Nina were off.”
“Only because they got ambushed on their way back from the jail, Grandma. They wouldn’t have left Brianna by choice.” When Ace had sent men to threaten Nina and Brianna, Nina had come to Cody for help. They’d been separated from their daughter and trying to survive Ace’s men, but not because they’d chosen to be.
“They would have left her with me, and would still, if it was the best way to keep her safe,” Grandma returned, as if that was just fact, not her opinion. “And Brianna was older. She could hide and be quiet. This little one can’t do that. And you can’t move fast enough carrying formula and diapers and a crib. Not if you’re going to catch her.”
“Catch her?”
Grandma Pauline rolled her eyes. “You don’t think that girl is already making plans? She’s not going to wait to skulk away under the dark of night. She would have done that last night, if so. My guess is she’s going to come up with an excuse to run to town, make sure no one goes with her, and hightail it from there.”
Brady stared dumbfounded for a moment, because of course that was exactly what Cecilia was going to do. He’d expected more subterfuge, but she hardly needed it when she was an adult woman who would need to do some things without supervision.
“Packed you a bag.”
Brady blinked at his grandmother. “Why didn’t you kick up a fuss last night? Tell them that their plan was wrong?”
“What’s the point in arguing with all you fools? You’re going to do whatever you want anyway. You take that truck Liza borrowed. Bag is packed with supplies. Don’t you let that girl out of your sight. You can each take care of yourself, there ain’t no doubt about that. But this is dangerous, which means you need to take care of each other. And trust us to take care of the little one.”
It was hardly the first time in his life his grandmother had helped him, or seen through him or the rest of them. It was hardly the first time she’d known exactly what to say, and when to say it. He’d been blessed to have her for these twenty years he’d been free of the Sons.
Brady pressed a kiss to his grandmother’s cheek. “I know you don’t like to hear it, but we would have been lost without you. Lost. Separate. Maybe like him.”
Grandma only grunted and shooed him away. “Not one of you has got it in you to be like him, not truly. Be better off if you believe that. Now go.”
* * *
TIMING WAS EVERYTHING when a person was planning their unapproved escape.
Okay, escape was maybe an exaggeration. Cecilia wasn’t being held prisoner. She was just trying to avoid her family’s arguments.
So, that morning, Cecilia waited until Duke and Sarah were out with the cattle. Cody, Nina and Brianna had stayed at the Knight ranch last night to put up some extra security measures, but Nina and Brianna had gone over to the Wyatts’ this morning so Gigi and Brianna could have their homeschool lessons. Cody was currently installing something on the entrance gate. All Cecilia had to do was wait to hear Rachel turn on the water to the shower, and she could slip out.
They’d decided it safest if Mak stayed at the Wyatt ranch, since they already had a crib and a few baby supplies that Brady had brought in with his backpack. There wasn’t anything at the Knights’, so it would have required bringing baby things in and out—which could have been detected by anyone who might be watching.
Cecilia could have spent the night at the Wyatts’, but she’d decided to say her goodbyes last night. That way she could get a handle on her emotions for today. Today required strength of spirit, not doubts born of the selfish need to be with Mak.
A quick note, a careful route across the property to the back exit—avoiding the pastures Duke and Sarah were in today—and she was home free.
Her gut twisted at the idea of causing her family worry, but worry was better than harm. No amount of words or arguments would allow them to accept Elijah’s prime target was her, which meant she needed to be far away.
So, as she’d learned to do as a teenager, instead of fighting the brick wall of a united Wyatt-Knight front, she’d sneak away and do the thing she knew was right.
She knew it was right. If only she was in danger, maybe she’d agree with her family. Teamwork was better than going off on your own.
But it wasn’t about her. It was about Mak.
So, Cecilia wrote her letter. She decided not to leave it in the kitchen, just because it would set the alarm too quickly. She needed a head start so they didn’t think they could come after her.
Mailbox. Perfect. She’d slip it in on her way out. Duke or Sarah didn’t usually head out that way until the end of the day. Plenty of time.
Satisfied with her plan, she slung her bag over her shoulder and slid the letter into her pocket. If she happened to get caught, she’d just pretend she was taking some stuff for Mak over to the Wyatt ranch. Then she’d try again tomorrow.
She heard the groan of pipes as Rachel started the shower. She took a deep breath and reminded herself she knew she was right. This was the right thing for Mak and that was all that mattered.
She slid out the door as quietly as she could. Keeping her eyes on the horizon on the off chance Sarah or Duke would unexpectedly come back to the house before lunch. Or one of Dev’s dogs—he’d insisted Sarah start keeping them with her—might start barking.
Nothing. She moved quickly and stealthily to the other side of the house where her truck was parked—purposefully away from views of the doors or windows.
But she stopped short when she turned the corner and spotted Brady leaning negligently against the hood of her truck.
He tipped down his sunglasses, clearly made a mental note of her bag, and then smiled. “Going somewhere?”
For a few full seconds all Cecilia could do was gape. Surely...this was a coincidence. He wasn’t sitting there because he knew what she was up to.
She kept walking toward her truck, trying to keep the suspicion out of her tone. “Just gotta run some errands. I left in kind of a hurry yesterday,” she said, trying to sound casual.
Brady gestured to the tinted out truck Liza had driven to the ranch. He’d parked it behind hers so she couldn’t back out. “I’ll drive you.”
She frowned, clutching the strap of her bag. “Why would you do that?”
“You can’t get very far on that doughnut tire, and I’m assuming you want to go a little farther than the rez.”
He laid that accusation so casually, she almost agreed. She caugh
t herself in time, harnessing her indignation that he’d clearly seen through her. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Sure,” he agreed easily. “But I’ll drive you all the same.”
“I don’t need a chauffeur, Brady. Go back to the ranch and rest up that bum shoulder of yours.”
He rolled the shoulder in question, then shrugged. “Feels plenty rested to me. Think I kicked that infection this time around. Isn’t that handy?” He gestured at her. “Might be kind of hard to see around that swollen eye. Probably be better if I drive.”
She didn’t know what to do with...whatever he was doing. The way he was acting. “Did you and Gage switch bodies or something? Is that why Felicity jumped ship so quick?”
“Careful,” he warned, and his tone had an edge to it that reminded her of last night when he’d been so angry.
His expression was calm, though. And she felt two inches tall for making a comment about Felicity’s old crush on Brady, when it was clear to anyone who paid half a second of attention she genuinely loved Gage.
“Go away, Brady,” Cecilia said, her control slipping. This was hard enough without having to fight him. “I’ve got stuff to do, and it’s got nothing to do with you.”
“That’d be easy, wouldn’t it? But we both know it isn’t true.”
“Whatever,” she muttered. She wasn’t going to argue with him. She was going to get in her truck and leave.
She stalked toward the door. Brady stepped in front of it. Her temper snapped and she gave him a shove.
He didn’t budge.
“I’m not afraid to hurt you, Brady,” she seethed through gritted teeth.
“Try me.”
The arrogance in his tone had her lashing out without thinking the move through. He dodged the elbow she almost landed on his gut, then grabbed her arm and moved it behind her back like he was getting ready to cuff her.