Chapter Thirty - Westin

CHAPTER THIRTY

WESTIN

It feels like I'll be stuck like this forever, sitting up all night with the branches of the oak outside my window blurry in my vision. It was risky bringing her to Sovereign Mountain. I don't regret the sex, but I'm ashamed of putting her in potential danger.

I had no business bringing her back to my bed.

So, I stay back, waiting out every agonizing second until Thomas Garrison is gone. The only solace I find in our separation is that at least she's safe, even if it is in another man's house.

The ranch is quiet for a few days in late fall. Sovereign took Keira to the hunting cabin to round up a few stray horses that escaped during the barn fire at her old farm. Jensen is busy doing construction work in South Platte. I don't have anything to occupy my mind, so I start drinking again.

Not heavily, just a shot when I get in from chores. Then another, maybe two, before I can close my eyes.

It's evening when someone knocks on my door. I'm halfway undressed, but I go and pull it open.

Keira stands outside. Hastily, I button my shirt, mind turning .

Something is wrong, I can feel it. It curls in on the cold wind swirling around her body. It smells like…death. The hair on the back of my neck stands on end.

"What are you doing here?" I murmur, leaning past her to look for Sovereign.

"Gerard left," she whispers.

Her pale, freckled face is blotchy. I don't spend much time with Keira—when she's not up in her room at the ranch house, she's out with the horses or Sovereign—but I know her well enough to see she's been crying hard.

"Okay?" I press.

Her lip quivers. "I was going through a box of Clint's things. There was a black card with a silver dog on it, and…he got really quiet when he saw it and left."

My brows reach my hairline.

Jack fucking Russell.

I snag her elbow and pull her into the gatehouse, shutting the door. She stands in the kitchen, looking so lost that it hurts my chest. When she turns to sit at the table, her hair falls back. My eyes drop to the discreet necklace at the base of her throat. Sovereign put a collar on her.

We stare at each other. I gesture, unsure how to respond. We barely know each other, but for some reason, she came to me for help.

"You want something?" I ask.

"Whiskey," she whispers, voice fragile.

I pour two glasses and sit opposite her. Her eyes are huge, her fingers barely gripping her glass. Her jaw shakes as she takes a drink. Then, she looks at me and, God, I hate myself and I hate Sovereign in this moment. She doesn't deserve all this heartache. Neither does Diane.

"What did the card mean?" she asks.

"That's Jack Russell's calling card," I say .

If Sovereign wants to keep secrets from her, maybe he should have been here tonight. I'm no good when it comes to crying women. I can't refuse her the truth when she has tears rolling down her face.

"Who's Jack Russell?"

"A hitman," I say flatly.

Her chin trembles. Her eyes are like saucers. "Like…an assassin?"

I nod. "Just like that. When you hire Jack to take someone out, he gives you a calling card. When the job's done, he brings a finger, maybe a tooth, as a receipt. Then, he takes the calling card back."

Her eyes dart over the table. I can tell we're both thinking the same thing.

"So my husband paid Jack Russell to kill someone?"

"You don't get a calling card unless Jack gives it to you," I say. "He had a deal. Looks like it didn't pan out. Stroke of good luck for the bastard he paid to kill that he happened to die first."

Her eyes narrow. "I know Gerard killed Clint and forged the will."

It's right then that I decide it isn't my fucking business to keep Sovereign's secrets anymore. Whatever she knows, it's far more than I thought. Sovereign went to go see Jack Russell, which means Clint was going to have someone killed.

My eyes fall on the woman sitting before me.

My stomach goes ice cold. I keep my body relaxed, my face impassive. I've spent enough time lying with my mouth; I can do it with everything else at this point.

If I had to guess, Clint was going to ask Jack to kill his wife, which begs the question—is Diane as safe as I thought?

My ears roar. Keira's asking me something about Gerard, and suddenly, I'm spilling everything onto the table. About his first fiancée, how she was cheating with Clint, the man who may well have been responsible for her death. About his mother dying, his father drinking himself to sleep in a ditch and never waking up.

It all floods out, ugly, like an open wound. All the secrets we hide at Sovereign Mountain.

All except mine. She doesn't ask about mine because nobody does .

Through it all, my knuckles are white, but I keep my fucking composure, because that's what I do best. I sit down, I shut up, I clean up other people's messes. I sit with their crying women while my own heart is breaking.

If the Garrisons were willing to try to kill Keira, what will they do to Diane?

A door slams, and boots crunch over gravel outside. I jerk my head up.

"He's back."

Keira goes pale, nodding. I stand, putting my hand on her shoulder. "Just…trust Sovereign. You'll be safe."

I don't mean to sound dismissive, but I have places to be tonight. The knob turns and the door swings in. Sovereign enters, bringing in the cold on his coat. At his heels is a tall, broad shouldered man with black hair beneath his cowboy hat. His clothes are dark, a gun strapped to his thigh. When he lifts his head, two green eyes glitter back at me.

Jack Russell.

He hangs back. Sovereign's eyes rake over Keira, drunk, at the table. "What are you doing here?" he asks.

Her lip quivers. "I came to talk to Westin."

Sovereign's jaw grits. He jerks his head to the corner, and I step aside with him.

"You let her drink?" he says.

Right now, I'm pissed, and I don't have a good reason. Nobody in this room knows about Diane, but I'm still so fucking angry that they're all wrapped up in their problems without a thought for mine. I know it's not rational, but I want to put my fist into Sovereign's face.

"She was fucked up already," I say pointedly. "She knows everything."

Sovereign's shoulders hunch. "I need to talk to her alone."

"She's hurting," I say. "I hope you don't contribute to that. "

He gives me a confused look, stepping away to take Keira by the elbow. They move upstairs, and I'm left with Jack Russell. I swing around, facing him.

"You were going to kill Keira?" I say.

He takes his hat off, running a hand over his hair. "No. I don't kill women or kids, you know that."

"So why give Clint the fucking calling card?" I spit.

"Curiosity," he says, silky voice low. "What's it to you?"

My head is spinning—I need a fucking cigarette. Pushing past him, I pull on my coat and take a pack out of the breast pocket. He follows me out onto the porch and plucks the cigarette I light from my fingers. I'm so strung out, it's all I can do not to take it back and knock him the fuck out.

I need to calm down.

I light up and start pacing back and forth. Jack watches me coolly.

"Sovereign is angry," I say. "He brought you back, which means he's planning on doing it tonight."

"Killing the Garrison brothers?" Jack says. "Seems so."

I stop, turning on him. "There's a woman at Thomas' house. I want her out of there, safe."

The corner of Jack's mouth turns up in a tempered smile.

"There's always a woman," he says.

"I mean it," I say, voice flat. "If anything happens to her, I will hold you and Sovereign responsible. You leave her to me."

"I'm here to kill Garrisons," he says. "I'm not responsible for anything else."

My blood is boiling. Maybe I'm not angry with Sovereign; maybe I'm angry with myself. I swore to keep Diane safe, and I let her sit in that house for months. I should have ignored her pleas to let her save Carter Farms. I should have walked in there the day they took her and put a bullet in both Garrisons.

"What's she to you?" Jack asks.

I take a step closer. "She's mine."

His brows rise at the aggression in my voice, but I don't wait around for him to answer. My boots carry me back through the front door and into my office. Above the mantel is my gun rack. I pull two pistols and a rifle down, take my hat from the hall, and go back out to where Jack stands.

His eyes follow me, watchful.

I shove the rifle into his hand as I walk by, heading down the front steps. Jack's silky voice cuts through, like a gossamer thread.

"Where are you going, gunslinger?"

My steps falter. I look down at the pistol in my hand and on my belt. I'm holding the magazine in my other hand, full of bullets. My eyes rise to the cold sky overhead, the branches of the oak like cracked ice across the gathering clouds.

I waited. I watched. I wanted.

I'm done. It's not my fucking business what happens to anybody else. I don't care if Sovereign knows I've been fucking another man's wife. My pride is irrelevant. My patience is at an end.

I slide the magazine into the pistol, clicking it in place.

"Where I should have gone a long time ago," I say savagely. "I'm going to get my girl back."

I go to the barn and prepare the horses for a hard run. My heart is empty save for blind anger. All I know is that for all his faults, my father would never have waited this long to take what he wanted.

When Sovereign and Jack finally appear, I don't have a fucking word to say as we mount up and ride out into the night.