Page 102 of The Last Promise You Made

But tomorrow might be too late.

“Dad,” Maddox said. “I’m going to drop you, McK, and Mama off at McFlannigan’s with Sadie. Don’t go to the ranch tonight. Go to my house. You know the code to my gun safe. You’ll find two more handguns in there. I’ll be home as soon as Scully’s men show up at Phil’s.”

We pulled up behind the bar, and Ryder’s family got out. His mama turned back, eyes meeting mine. “I expect you’ll protect my son and granddaughter.”

God, I’d failed so many times already. So many damn times.

“Yes, ma’am.”

She looked into the back seat, where Addy’s face was buried in Ryder’s chest, and her eyes softened. “Addy-girl,” she said softly.

Addy peeked out.

“I know you’re a bit scared right now. I think we all are, and that’s okay. But you have some of the bravest, smartest people I know looking out for you. When this is all over, I’ll teach you how to make my brown-sugar molasses cookies that I swore I wouldn’t teach a soul. You’ll be the only one to know. How does that sound?”

Addy’s lips ticked upward ever so slightly.

“Love you, Son,” Brandon said, his gaze landing on Ryder. “I need to hear from you regularly, otherwise your mama will worry.”

They all would. They’d worry until Ryder and Addy were in their arms again.

Whereas my family had no clue I’d even danced with death tonight.

I wasn’t sure how I felt about that, but I knew one thing was certain—the Hatleys would get their family back whole and unharmed.

The old Bronco’s doors slammed shut, and quiet took over as Maddox put the vehicle in drive. He headed down several blocks to a two-story, rectangular colonial with plain white shiplap siding and a covered front porch. The front yard was small and well-maintained with grass and magnolia trees. Simple and clean but with no flowers or feminine touches.

Maddox pulled around back to the detached garage near the back door. “I’ll let you out here. I’m going to run to the station, pick up a few burner phones, and then I’ll come back on foot so my vehicle isn’t found here.”

Ryder climbed out, bringing Addy and her purple backpack with him as I got out of the front seat. “Got the key?” Ryder asked his brother.

“Same place as it’s always been,” Maddox responded with a head tilt toward the steps.

Maddox drove off, and while Ryder pulled a hide-a-key from under the back steps, I scanned the quiet street. Dusk was falling. A dog barked somewhere a street over. But other than that, there was no movement.

Ryder opened the screen, unlocked the door, and held it open for Addy and me to slide inside.

In the fading twilight, the kitchen we stepped into looked like a 1950s throwback. Black-and-white checkered floor, rounded appliances in shades of mustard, white Formica counters, and straight-faced, white cabinets.

It smelled of stale cigarettes and beer.

“Uncle Phil wasn’t much of a homemaker. After Granny McFlannigan passed, he had someone come clean once a month or so, but it definitely became a bachelor pad.”

We moved farther into the house, using the light on my phone rather than turning on any lamps. We passed through a dining room cluttered with storage boxes that would have been considered fancy a lifetime ago but now looked tired. Through another arch, we entered a living room that had two antique couches with carved backs covered in crocheted quilts. A leather recliner that appeared to be one of only two things from this century in the room faced an enormous television hanging from the flowered wallpaper over a marble-pillared fireplace.

The house felt…worn-out and lonely.

Maybe that had been Phil as well.

Ryder led us up a staircase with a threadbare runner that must have once been plush, even opulent. The hallway had closed doors on both sides leading down to an arched window at the end. “Bathroom here.” He pointed to the door to the left of the landing before opening the one to the right. “Guest room.”

“I don’t want anyone here,” I told him, meeting his eyes. “Too close to the stairs.”

He moved to the next room. “This is Phil’s. Been his for as long as I could remember.” It smelled even stronger of cigarettes. Musty and tired. The brass bed was covered with a handmade popcorn quilt that must have once been a bright blue. The walls were covered in framed pictures of Phil with some of the town’s celebrities—football players and musicians.

Ryder’s throat bobbed. “Let’s just leave it alone for now.”

He moved farther down the hall. “This was where Maddox and I stayed sometimes when we were little and Granny Mc was alive.” The bunkbeds took up the majority of the room with a small, antique writing desk as the only other piece of furniture. Ryder pointed to a small door that I suspected was a closet. “Leads to the attic.”

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