Chapter 17

seventeen

. . .

Bishop

" S o, Walker, huh?" I asked after putting Ghost away.

River was fiddling with a length of rope hanging from a hook nearby, her slender fingers sliding over the fibers, making me picture her with a very different kind of rope. One that made it impossible for her to put her hands on me but gave me access to every inch of her.

Having her touching me so close and for so long, her warm body constantly brushing mine, had been almost too much to bear on our ride back, but I'd survived.

"Nope."

The way she popped the P told me she really didn't want to talk about it. Unfortunately, I wasn't going to give her the luxury of hiding. The information was too damn useful.

"That's not what it looked like." Or sounded like, for that matter. With the way the three of them had been carrying on, I doubted a person on this ranch didn't know what went down in that cabin last night.

"Looks can be deceiving. Just like Walker fucking Cross."

Okay, then. I shrugged. "His loss."

She scoffed. "Yeah. You could say that." Her gaze didn't meet mine as she continued trailing her hand across the coiled lasso. "Could've done without the lies, though. I'm not a fan of snakes."

"Need me to have a talk with him?" All my protective instincts flared to life at the defensiveness in her voice and the defeated slump of her shoulders. He'd really hurt her.

"You gonna defend my honor, Sterling?"

"Does it need defending, siren?"

That earned me her deep green irises. "I hate to break it to you, cowboy, but you're about ten years too late to rescue me from the Cross boys."

"I'm not a cowboy. Not really."

"You wanna tell that to those spurs you're wearing?"

"That's a matter of practicality. Never hurts to have the right tools for the job."

"Uh huh." Her teasing smirk lit a fire in my belly. "Would you rather I call you ‘soldier' instead?"

"I already told you, call me Sterling."

She straightened and closed the distance between us, not coming within touching distance, but still putting all her attention on me. "Thanks for getting me out of there, Sterling. I was this close to castrating one or both of them."

I couldn't tell if she was serious, and I didn't want to find out.

"So why stick around, then?" I didn't realize how much I wanted to know the answer until the question left my lips. A foolish part of me wanted it to be because she wanted to spend more time with me, which was stupid for any number of reasons.

"I already told you about the will."

I studied her long and hard. "Nah, I'm not buying it. That gives you an excuse, but it's not the real reason. Woman like you... you'd find a way around it if you really needed to."

"It seemed pretty ironclad to me," she said, but her eyes darted to the side, and it was all the proof I needed that I'd just hit the nail on the head.

"Siren, what aren't you saying?"

"I have my reasons." The way she stiffened then turned away from me only added to my unease. There was a whole hell of a lot more going on than she wanted to admit.

I took her chin between my fingers and tipped her face back to mine, a little jolt of electricity shooting through me at the contact. I released her just as quickly, but she didn't look away.

"If you tell me, I might be able to help you."

She opened and closed her mouth several times, looking torn, before releasing a heavy breath. "Someone's sending me letters."

I don't know what the fuck I thought she might say, but that sure as shit wasn't it.

"What kind of fucking letters? Is someone threatening you?" The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end.

"No. Maybe?" She bit down on her lip, and I had the sudden instinct to tug it free.

"Well, which is it?"

"I'm not sure. They're about my parents."

"Show me."

Indecision flitted through her eyes, but the moment I reached out and cupped her nape, crossing the touch barrier once more, she caved.

"They're in my room."

"Let's go."

I dropped my hand as soon as she started walking, but instead of the relief I'd usually feel, there was a pang of regret. Everything about this woman twisted me up inside. There wasn't a single person I could think of I willingly initiated touch with. In the rare instances I'd given in and sought out a partner to sate my lust, they'd always followed a strict set of rules.

No emotion.

No repeats.

No fucking touching.

My dick sliding through their pussy didn't count, but even then, I controlled when and how. Since returning to civilian life, those encounters had been few and far between, though, because the risk of triggering my PTSD was too high. One wrong move from them could be deadly. After a near miss, I chose a life of celibacy in order to protect myself and others. Wasn't like I could have a real relationship anyway, and sex wasn't worth it if I couldn't trust my own hands. I did just fine on my own.

"Come on in," River said when we arrived at her bedroom door.

I followed her, the subtle floral scent of her fragrance hitting my nose as I did.

"How many letters have you received so far?" I asked, more as a way to bring my mind back to the possible danger she was in and not on the fact that there was a bed nearby and I was dying to know what she tasted like when she came.

"Just the two. Hang on." She strode over to the bed, bent over—fuck me, she had the perfect ass—and pulled two manila envelopes from between the mattress and box spring.

"That's not a very safe place to be hiding things you don't want found," I scolded.

"Under the mattresses. Isn't that a thing? Like from The Godfather?"

I chuckled. "No, that's ‘to the mattresses.' Not the same thing. It means go to war."

"Well, as long as Ghost's head doesn't end up on my pillow..."

I gaped at her. "Why would I ever do that?"

"Because of that one scene, you know? With the horse head and the bloody sheets. I dunno... I was just saying."

"You leave Ghost out of it, you pretty little psychopath."

She laughed. "And you say you aren't a real cowboy."

"I'm not."

"The way you love that horse says different."

Pressing my lips together to keep from smiling, I reached out and snatched the letters from her. One was still sealed.

"You haven't opened it?"

A soft flush stole across her cheeks. "I'm sort of afraid to. The first was bad enough. I could hardly sleep for a few nights after. The pictures were... a lot."

Sliding the pictures out of the letter in question, I stared down at a grisly crime scene. "Jesus." I set the stack face down once I'd finished, glancing over at her before I opened the second. "Do you mind?"

"No, please. I'd rather you do it than me."

I gave her a sharp nod and slid my finger beneath the edge, opening the envelope and allowing the new stack of pictures to slide out. These were worse than the first.

In those, the couple had been shot execution-style, making it seem like that had been the extent of it. But these pictures told a different story. One that said being shot had been a mercy compared to the agony they'd experienced. It also proved that their bodies had been staged in the last set, made to look like the gunshots were the worst of their injuries. Sadly, that was just the tip of the iceberg.

In this new set of photos, the couple was naked, chained up, and very much alive. Given the state of their bodies, that was not necessarily a good thing. They'd been beaten, for days, if I had to guess. Tortured without a doubt, given the number of cigarette burns and cuts marring their skin. But it was the word carved into each of their chests that made my stomach curdle.

Traitor.

What was worse, though, were the very clear burn marks next to those words. The Twisted Cross Ranch brand stood out like a beacon, the intertwined TCR recognizable to anyone in this town. Shit. I couldn't let her see this. Not if I was any kind of man.

"What is it?" she asked, voice quavering.

I shook my head. "I think it might be best if you don't ask me questions you don't really want the answers to, siren." I'd hand them over if she demanded it; they were hers by right. But I couldn't in good conscience show them to her without preparing her for the reality they contained. She didn't need those kinds of nightmares, not when I could spare her.

River gulped. "That bad, huh?"

My jaw tightened as I nodded. "Worse."

The subtle flare of her eyes told me she knew it had to be if I was the one saying so. I'd told her enough about my background for her to guess at the sorts of horrors I'd seen. I wouldn't tell her it was bad if it wasn't fucking awful.

"Fuck." She didn't stop me when I slid the pictures back into the envelope. "Tell me what I need to know."

"The murders were linked to Twisted Cross Ranch, and they weren't killed on the road."

"But the crime scene . . ."

"Was staged. Someone took them first, and when they were done playing with them, they used their bodies to send a message."

"W-why?"

"I don't know. But I'm going to help you find out."

"How?"

"I still have some contacts in the service who owe me favors." It was the truth, even if it was misleading.

Her face paled as she sank onto the bed. "Who would hurt them? They were good, kind people. I don't understand any of this. Why send these to me after all these years? How are the Crosses involved?" She swallowed and dropped her head in her hands.

I reached for her, but pulled my shaking hand back before she saw me. My own monsters were too close to the surface right now. The anxiety buzzing through my veins had me nearly gasping for breath as the past threatened to infiltrate my mind.

"I'll make some calls. See what I can do. Stay here. Lock your door. I'll come for you in the morning."

"You think I'm in danger?" Her big eyes swam with unshed tears as she lifted her head and stared up at me.

Knowing what I did about the Cross family, there was no way I could say no without it being a lie. And the last thing I wanted to do was lie to her—more than I already was.

"Just stay here until I come for you." I leveled my gaze on her. "Promise me."

"Promise."

With one last look, I turned and walked out of her room, waiting until I heard the soft click of the lock before I pulled my phone out and dialed a number from memory.

My contact answered on the first ring, his rough, gravelly rumble doing nothing to hide his annoyance. "It's about damn time you checked in. The brass is crawling up my ass looking for a status report."

"This goes deeper than we thought."

There was a long pause before he responded. "Is this line secure?"

"Not secure enough for what I have to tell you."

"Usual spot, thirteen hundred hours?"

"I'll be there."