by Nicole Helm
“Jamison, I’ve packed up quite a few provisions. Obviously, you’ll want to take your camping supplies just in case. Still, I’ll put together some linens.”
“I can—”
It only took a very carefully raised eyebrow for Jamison to swallow the rest of his words. Heaven forbid he try to patronize his grandmother with assistance.
She didn’t want to be treated like an “old lady.” It was hard to learn the balance between truly helping her and jabbing at her pride.
“I see things haven’t changed around here,” Liza said once Grandma had left the kitchen.
Jamison wished that were true. But things had changed. Dev’s injuries. Cody’s evasiveness about his job that kept him far away from the ranch. The middle lot hadn’t changed much and all worked for Valiant County. Gage enjoyed pretending he was a happy-go-lucky sheriff’s deputy, his twin, Brady, taking on a more serious outlook with the same job, while Tucker’s detachment to the detective bureau kept him busy and satisfied—supposedly.
But Jamison wondered if they’d just gotten better at hiding their scars as adults.
A concern and a worry for another day. He ate the breakfast Grandma had set in front of him. Liza did as well, without any more commentary. Thank God.
She scraped her plate clean, which comforted Jamison some. He took their plates to the sink once they were both done and didn’t miss the way she watched him. She was here because she thought he was the only one who could help her—not because she necessarily wanted his help.
Wasn’t that always the way with her?
As long as he remembered that, as long as he didn’t get sucked into old memories, this would be fine.
He took Liza outside to help pack up the truck. Grandma’s truck was a nondescript Ford that would suit him well. Brady and Gage would get Jamison’s truck out to the ranch for Grandma to use later today.
“This is a lot,” Liza said, sounding something between wary and exhausted as he crammed another cooler into the bed along with all his camping supplies. She crouched nearby, petting the dogs.
“We don’t know what we’ll need or for how long, and I don’t want you passing out on me again.”
She didn’t smirk or even make a snotty comeback like he’d hoped—no, not hoped—expected. There could be nothing to do with hope when it came to Liza.
She stood and hugged herself instead, looking out at the endless rolling landscape of the ranch. “They’re going to know we’re coming.”
There was a rawness to that statement he simply couldn’t let affect him. “I know it’s been a while, but surely you know me better than to think I don’t understand that.”
“You can’t underestimate them.”
Jamison looked over at Dev limping from the barn, and the small figure that was Sarah. Dev started walking toward them, and Sarah toward the house. The dogs raced to Dev. It made a nice picture, all in all, but his brother’s limp stuck in his craw.
No, he’d never underestimate his father or the Sons again.
* * *
LIZA DIDN’T MISS the look Jamison gave his brother. She was definitely missing pieces of that story. Part of her wanted to ask, wanted to dig. The Wyatt brothers and their grandmother still felt like family even if she’d cut them off fifteen years ago.
Worse, so much worse than that feeling was the fact beyond Dev were rolling fields. Behind those hills was the Knight place.
Was Duke still running his cattle, laughing uproariously at himself and his over-the-top stories? Were her foster sisters from those beautiful few years she’d spent under their roof still there? Or had they built beautiful lives of their own?
Did they all hate her?
“I’d say you could stop by, but I don’t want to drag Duke and the girls into this.”
Liza swallowed, looking away from Sarah’s far-off form and the only true home she’d ever had. “No, I don’t, either.” She didn’t want to ask which girls. Leaving meant she’d learned that no information was better than some and knowing she couldn’t be part of it.
“Sarah and Rachel still live on the ranch. Cecilia lives on the reservation—she’s tribal police now. Felicity’s a park ranger over at Badlands.”
She didn’t want to ask, but he’d started it. “What about Nina?”
Jamison shrugged. “She left.”
“Left... How?”
“Do you really want to know, Liza? Because, by my count, the past fifteen years were yours for the knowing.”
It hurt because it was true, and because it was true she didn’t know what to say. But Dev approached, looking stormy and grumpy—which was different from the eager, determined teenager she remembered.
Maybe some things had changed.
“Heading out?”
“Looks like. Grandma was getting together a few more things. I’ll be in touch.”
Dev nodded, then turned his attention to her. Disapproval was etched into every line on his face, and none of it was softened by the beard that hid most of his mouth. “Watch your back, brother,” he said, though he said the words while looking at her.
She didn’t bother to plead her case to Dev, or to Jamison, for that matter. She’d broken their trust, knowing full well how slow trust was gained when it came to the Wyatts. Whatever they wanted to lay at her feet was fine, as long as they found Gigi.
Pauline came out with another load of who knew what. Liza felt like they were packing for a covered wagon trip across the prairie. She’d gotten by on next to nothing the past few days. Of course she’d ended up shot and unconscious.
Jamison said his goodbyes, giving strict instructions to be contacted if anything fishy happened at the ranch. Then they were loaded up in Pauline’s truck and driving away from the ranch.
Liza watched the gorgeous scenery go by. Spring was trying to get ahold of the land. There were touches of green peeking through just about every rolling brown hill. The scarce few bare trees they drove by were softening with buds.
Jamison drove west, which was right where the Sons were camped for the time being. It put Liza on considerable edge. Maybe he was just going to deliver her back to the Sons and be done with her.
But no. Jamison wouldn’t willingly go into Sons territory. Certainly not for her. “Where exactly are we going?” she asked when she couldn’t stand another minute of silence.
“Not directly to Flynn if that’s what you’re worried about.”
She wasn’t sure what she was worried about. Everything, maybe. She’d come to Jamison because he was the only one who could help, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t doubt his methods. He was a cop now. He wouldn’t be breaking any laws to bring her sister to safety.
It was about two hours between Flynn and Pauline’s ranch, and they’d already been going for over an hour. Jamison said they weren’t going directly to Flynn, but it sure felt like they were.
Liza pressed her forehead against the passenger window. Out of the corner of her eyes she saw a flash and she looked in the rearview mirror. Her entire body went cold. “Right about now I’m worried about the tail we’ve got,” she said, her throat tight with fear.
Jamison grinned, just like he’d done when they were younger. Irritatingly, her stomach did the same stupid swoop it had always done back then, too.
“I’m not,” he offered, then without any warning punched the gas and sped off the road.
Chapter Five
Jamison wouldn’t admit to anyone there was an excitement in all this that he’d missed. A thrill he’d thought he’d left behind when he’d become a cop.
But taking the truck over the edge of the road, slamming down the gas pedal a little too hard as they sped over the hills, turning too tight around rock formations, it filled him with a dark satisfaction he hadn’t allowed himself to feel in a long time.
He slid a quick glance at Liza. He
r expression vacillated between worry as she looked behind them, and that wicked smile he remembered. She’d always been fueled by danger—even more than him.
But this wasn’t the old days, a fact he had a bad feeling he was going to have to remind himself of over and over.
There wasn’t much cover, even as they got closer to the landscape that dipped and cratered with soaring stone ridges. The closer they got, the more impossible it would become to drive quickly or evade their pursuer.
“All right. Hold on.”
He did a tight 180. Liza screeched—out of fear or delight it was hard to tell—but the truck held and Jamison sped directly toward their tail. He passed them, a pinch too close, their door mirrors crashing into each other and splintering off.
Jamison swore. “Grandma’s going to kill me for that,” he muttered, speeding back to the highway, gaining enough distance from their tail to get back on the road and make it to the turnoff he wanted without being seen.
Liza kept watching out the back window as Jamison maneuvered down a gravel side road that would take him where he wanted to go.
“It’s not going to be that easy.”
“No. I’d wager that’s only the beginning. But the one thing we’ve got going for us is they’re not going to kill us.”
“How do you know that?”
“Because if anyone in that group is going to kill us, it’s going to be our fathers. That’s one thing they’re not going to send their goons to do. Or we’d have been dead a long time ago.”
“Isn’t that even the tiniest bit depressing to you?”
“If a man like my father wants to kill me, I figure I’ve made a pretty good life for myself.”
“Policing some Podunk town in the middle of nowhere.”
The insult didn’t bother him. He wouldn’t let it. He hadn’t built his adult life to impress his ex-girlfriend who’d betrayed him once upon a time. So, he replied to her bland statement lightly, confidently, “Keeping the people of a small, tight-knit community safe from the likes of my father. It works for me.”
“Some of us choose to protect the people inside from the likes of your father.”
“Is that what you thought you were doing when you left, Liza? Protecting the people who willingly follow our fathers around—and willingly hurt and kill people in their paths?”
“Children don’t have a choice, Jamison. You should know that better than anyone else.”
He didn’t have a response for that. He couldn’t—wouldn’t—believe she’d gone back to the Sons all those years ago to protect children when she’d still practically been a child. Or that she wouldn’t have tried to explain that to him instead of disappearing in the middle of the night, making them all fear the worst.
He opened his mouth to say that, to ask her if she had any idea what she’d put all of them through those first few days. How worried sick the Knights and their girls had been, how he and his brothers had mounted a search-and-attack plan.
Until Grandma had stated the obvious. Clearly, Liza had left of her own accord.
Ancient history. Let it go.
He took the next turn a little too quickly considering he was almost certain they’d lost the tail. He followed this dirt road, backtracking toward Bonesteel, then taking a few paved roads back to the highway farther west.
“They’ll still know where we’re going,” Liza said, not bothering to hide her disgust.
“But they won’t know how. Or when. Do you think Gigi is in Flynn?”
“I’m not sure. I couldn’t find her, but that doesn’t mean anything. Dad was around the whole time, so she’s either in Flynn, or someone’s taken her away and is waiting for Dad.”
“The second is more likely if you couldn’t find her.” Which made things more difficult, but not impossible.
She closed her eyes as if that truth hurt. “Yeah.”
“So, where are the Sons holding ancillary camps right now?”
“I don’t know, Jamison. I was hardly top of the food chain.”
“You couldn’t have been that low if you were there.”
She shook her head. “You never, ever once understood that it’s different for women in there. When you’re property to be traded around, no one needs revenge on you. Being there is revenge enough.”
Maybe there was a truth to that, but it didn’t negate his truth, either. “The Sons don’t let anything live that doesn’t have use to them.”
“And yet here you are, alive and well. What use do you serve, Jamison?”
It was pointless to try to get through to her. And she was wrong. He’d understood he had a different place in the Sons than she did when they were still stuck there. Why did she think he’d risked his life to get her out?
But with or without her cooperation he could make some educated guesses. Luckily, he knew the area around Flynn well. When he’d been growing up, the Sons had had two main camps—one directly in the Badlands, though outside the park, and another closer to Bonesteel. Flynn had been the middle ground, and Dad’s special place. He’d called it sentimental, but Jamison had known better than that.
Flynn was where Ace Wyatt had taken his sons when he wanted to hurt them. Warp them and mold them into the kind of man Ace was.
The fact Ace had never been able to do it was probably his biggest and only regret. Which was why Jamison had known, no matter how he’d hoped otherwise, that he walked through this life with a target on his chest.
Dad wouldn’t die until he exacted revenge on his sons for refusing to be broken. Ace had built his gang and his power on his control, though. He didn’t need death and revenge immediately. He wanted it to hurt. He wanted it to mean something.
Letting his children build lives, only to take them away, was exactly the kind of thing Ace got off on.
Jamison glanced at Liza. There was true fear there—for Gigi. But this could still be a trap. For all he knew, his father or hers could have demanded his head for Gigi’s. He wouldn’t put it past any of them, and he could hardly blame Liza for using him to save her sister.
“You know, if they sent you here under the guise of some kind of trade, it’s not going to end well.”
She laughed. Bitterly. “I know you don’t know me at all, and, sure, I’d love to trade your life for my sister’s, but they didn’t ask. Even if they had, I’d know better than to make a deal with the devil. The devil always wins, and I will not let Gigi lose.”
She was vehement and angry, and he wished that didn’t make him believe her. He wished it could remind him to harden himself against her. But when it came to Liza, wishes had never come true.
“If we save her—get her out and safe, truly safe, you won’t be able to go back. Not ever.”
She turned her head to meet his gaze. Her dark eyes were wet but filled with fierce determination. “I know.”
There was more he could say, but he figured they should get where they were going first. And he should get the emotions complicating this rescue mission under control.
* * *
LIZA DIDN’T TRY to keep track of the circuitous path Jamison was driving. They were getting closer to Flynn, and she was getting closer to falling apart altogether.
She should have asked one of his brothers. Or kept on trying to find Gigi herself. She never should have involved Jamison, thinking old hurts had been eradicated.
Because they weren’t gone, only buried, and every disdainful look or overly obvious statement from him dug deeper to the heart of all that old pain.
But she’d suffer through it for Gigi. She hadn’t been able to save Marci from the Sons. Liza didn’t know how to live having failed both her sisters. One failure was hard enough.
If she could save Gigi, get her away from the Sons, well, yeah, she wouldn’t be able to go back. But going back to the Sons had only ever been to save her sisters.
She could have told him. If she explained to him why she left, he would have insisted she should have told him, and he would have taken care of the problem.
Maybe he would have, but she’d known how hard it had been. She’d watched him put all five of his brothers before him. She’d watched him put her before him. To have asked him to do that again for something that was her responsibility had felt wrong.
She’d wanted to live up to the unreachable example he’d set. Instead, no matter how Liza had fought for her, Marci had thrown her life into the Sons. Liza hadn’t given up on Marci, which was why she’d stayed so long, until Marci had only laughed when her boyfriend had threatened to murder Liza in her sleep if she came near them again.
By then, Carlee had been pregnant, and Liza had spent the last four years trying to talk some sense into the girl. Get them all out—she knew what it was like to be separated from your mother and she didn’t want to do it to Gigi. Carlee had wavered back and forth, giving in just enough for Liza to keep hoping she could save them all.
Now Carlee was dead, Gigi was missing and the truth was Liza wasn’t good enough for this. She needed the only man she knew who was.
“We’ll camp here.”
She sat up a little straighter, peering out the window. They’d gotten closer to the Badlands. The rock formations that made the area famous surrounded them. Craggy valleys and the eruption of rock stretched for miles, making it difficult to hide from all directions, but Liza had no doubt Jamison knew what he was doing.
“Camp?” It was still early enough spring that nights would be frigid.
“Did you think we were heading for a resort?”
She snorted. “Yeah. That’s what I was expecting.”
“Camper shell is set up on the bed. We’ll be fine.”
“Tight quarters.”