Page 93 of Honey Bee Hearts

“Hidden under honey in crates?” I ask, raising my brows despite my heart beating so hard in my chest, I can hear it in my ears.

“It’s a Wyoming thing,” he replies. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“You think I’m an idiot,” I say, leveling him with my stare. “I know what cocaine looks like, Rhett. I’m from Florida. We legit have cocaine sharks.”

Rhett blinks. “The fuck?”

“Look,” Gunnar says, stepping forward. “We can pretend this never happened?—”

“No, we can’t,” Colt interrupts him. “It’s a risk. She could call the cops.”

I suddenly realize the trouble I’m in. I should have just agreed with Rhett, said it was flour and left this building without another word. They’d think me an idiot, but that’s better than the alternative. Now, they know that I know what’s in there because I’d opened my big mouth and trusted they wouldn’t hurt me. But why would I think that? We’ve gotten close, sure, but they’ve only known me for a few weeks. This operation has clearly been going on for a long time. There are hundreds and hundreds of crates in here. Maybe thousands.

“I won’t call the cops,” I rasp, taking a step closer to Jethro.

“But can we trust you?” Colt asks, a wicked grin on his face. It makes me even more uneasy to see how much he’s enjoying this.

“And who exactly left the door unlocked, Colt?” Gunnar growls.

“I couldn’t possibly know,” he replies, not looking away from me.

“Stop it,” Rhett grunts. “It doesn’t matter right now.”

I straighten, my eyes on the four of them. “Clearly, I don’t know y’all like I thought I did.”

Colt’s grin widens. “I did tell you there were no green flags here, Annie Oakley.”

Fuck. He did. But. . . who in their right mind would come to the conclusion of drug trafficking from that comment. Are they mules, or are they just an in between? My eyes flick to the door again, wondering if I can outrun them.

“You can’t leave,” Colt says, seeing my intentions.

“Like hell I can’t,” I snarl, taking a menacing step forward, but none of them flinch. Jethro presses against my leg and starts to growl at them, sensing my unease.

“Colt’s right,” Rhett says, and I look at him, my face twisting with anger. He looks over at Trent. “Put her in her cabin. Lock the door.”

“No!” I snarl, and try to bolt, but I’m at a disadvantage. Even if I’d been a good runner, I’m not faster than Trent Coldiron. The big motherfucker latches onto me around my waist and lifts before I make it halfway to the door. He has me tossed over his shoulder so fast, I barely blink. Jethro growls and snarls at them, and when he grabs hold of Trent’s leg, Trent grunts in pain, but he doesn’t stop, pulling Jethro along with him.

“Put my down!” I cry. “Trent! What the hell?”

He marches across the ranch, me over his shoulder screaming. Mel comes out on the porch with a frown at the noise.

“Help me!” I cry. “Mel! Help!”

He watches with a wince and disappears back inside. My heart sinks. Are they all in on it?

Trent turns the knob of my door and kicks it open. He pulls me back upright and sets me in the cabin, gently pushing me inside. Jethro comes sliding in a moment later. My eyes well as I realize just how bad of a situation this is. Am I going to die here? Will they kill me to keep me silent?

I spin and meet Trent’s eyes. His face shuts down when he sees the tears spilling over my lashes, his hand clenching tightly on the door.

“Trent,” I whisper, starting to shake.

His eye twitches. “I’m sorry,” he croaks. “It’s gonna be okay.”

And then he slams the door shut. Something rattles outside and when I try the door, I find it barricaded. Anxiety claws its way up my throat.

Chapter 49

Trent

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