Page 112 of Billionaire Lumberjack's Bargain

Dalton twitches in the chair, starting to wake. He slowly lifts his head and turns it to peer back at us with half-lidded, still sleepy eyes.

Lumbering toward the door, Pops glances his way. “Someone’s here.”

The shift in Dalton’s gaze is instant.

His eyes clear the last remnants of sleep as he climbs to his feet with Davey clutched to his chest protectively. He turns toward me and moves quickly to the staircase. “I’m going to put him back in his room.” His focus darts to his grandfather, whose hand rests on the knob. “Pops, wait for me before you go out.”

Pops gives a sharp nod, and Dalton rushes up the stairs, taking them two at a time easily, even with Davey in his hold.

I grip the banister so tightly my knuckles whiten. “Who is it?”

Shifting to the side of the door, Pops glances out the window, and his shoulders immediately tense. “The sheriff…”

Dalton returns before I can ask him anything, moving down the steps as quickly as he ascended them. He pauses on the bottom one next to me and kisses my cheek, pressing a warm, reassuring hand to my lower back. “It’ll be okay.”

Without him even saying it, I can already tell he’s going to order me to stay in the house.

I wrap my hand around his wrist. “I’m going out there with you.”

His nostrils flare, his normally soft green eyes hardening like emeralds. “Like hell you are…”

“Dalton, I need to know what’s going on.”

He presses his hand on my back tighter. “You need to stay inhere.”

I slide my hand from his wrist to twine my fingers with his, squeezing. “We’re a team, right?”

His shoulders sag slightly, as if my question physically hurt him. “Of course, we are.”

“Then let me back you up.”

He releases a sigh, then gives me a sharp nod and gently tugs me down the final step toward the front door. Pops grasps the knob and turns it. Chilly air blows in as he pulls it open, and we step out onto the porch and into the bright morning sunlight that so vastly contradicts the dark foreboding settling over me.

Sheriff Wilson is already halfway up the steps. He recoils slightly, almost like he didn’t expect us. “Oh, youarehere. I figured you were in the barn or out on the property and was going to come look for you after I knocked.”

Pops forces a smile, but I can see how tight it is, how filled with unease and mistrust. “If you’re here, it must be bad news. You could have just radioed.”

The sheriff pulls off his cowboy hat and rubs at the thinning, gray-streaked hair near his temple. “You’re right. It isn’t good.”

Dalton tightens his hand around mine. “You found something?”

He nods, leaning an arm on the banister behind him. “Did some digging after you radioed about the people being at the lake. Had to call all the way to Saranac Lake to find a company that rented two ATVs.”

Pops raises a white brow. “And…”

I hold my breath, waiting to see who is behind this, and Dalton’s entire body goes completely rigid.

This is the moment we’ve been waiting for. After literalmonthsof trying to get answers—from Pops and elsewhere—we might actually finally find out who we are fighting.

“Well”—Wilson rubs a hand across his jaw—“it’s a name you’ll be familiar with.”

Dalton’s hand tightens around mine, and he subtly tugs me closer. “That scumbag lawyer Gallo?”

He nods. “Yes, but I made some phone calls to some friends in the city, people who might know him or at leastofhim, and now, I’ve got more information on that fucker.”

I glance at Pops, waiting for him to ask the ultimate question, but he just casually leans against the porch railing, like all of this is boring to him. “Who does he work for?”

Sheriff Wilson’s jaw hardens, his already dark eyes turning steely. “You aren’t going to like the answer.”

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