Page 114 of Billionaire Lumberjack's Bargain

“Did they…”—my stomach drops, my legs starting to shake again as I wrap my arms around myself—“did they have anything to do with Dave’s death?”

The sheriff recoils slightly, his eyes widening. “I don’t…”—he shakes his head—“I don’t think so, but shit, I guess I don’t know.”

Dalton peers over his shoulder at me, then releases his grip on the sheriff and comes to my side to wrap his arms around me again and hold me steady. “If I find out they did and that you knew about it or had any role in it, you’re going to answer to me. As it stands, you’re already at the top of my shit list.”

The menacing tone he uses should frighten me.

Especially when it’s so out of character for him.

But the situation definitely warrants it.

“I’m sorry, guys.” Wilson blubbers. “Really, truly I am. But you can’t fight this. It’s going to happen one way or another. They’re too powerful. They know too many people in far higher places than James Mountain. They’re going to get this land and use it for whatever the hell it is they want it for.” He sweeps out his hand absently. “I suggest you start making plans for when they do.”

With that warning, he angles himself to slip between Pops and the railing and hustles back to his department truck.

We all watch him drive away, but no one says anything.

We’re all too stunned.

This is all aboutmoney.

Greed.

They weren’t even blackmailing him in a way that would have posed a threat we might have been able to understand.

He just wanted the cold, hard cash they offered.

And his assurance that they didn’t have anything to do with Dave’s death wasn’t really one at all.

ChapterSeventeen

ONE MONTH LATER

CAMILLE

Abiting wind blows the season’s first snow across the yard, battering the house and rattling the window above the sink, but I seem to be the only one who notices.

Davey’s too focused on the plate of cupcakes in front of him, and Dalton is busy digging through the drawers, looking for the candles I swear I put in one of them recently.

The way my pregnancy brain has basically turned my memory to mush hasn’t made the last month easy. I’m constantly forgetting things and finding myself standing in a room without any idea why I went there in the first place.

I’m dreading what these final two weeks before my due date will bring—both for my body and for all the people in this room.

Even the joy of Davey’s birthday celebration seems subdued by the fact that we’ve spent the last several weeks on edge. Between the changing weather, last-minute prep on both homesteads, and the growing uncertainty brought on by Sheriff Wilson’s warning, none of us have really relaxed.

But I intend to change that today.

I have to.

Davey shouldn’t suffer because someone else wants to hurt what we have here on the mountain.

Pops leans over to grab one of the frosted treats from in front of Davey, and Dalton smacks his hand away as he returns to the table with the missing candles in hand. “Knock it off.”

The old man scowls but leans back in his chair, crossing his arms defiantly.

Dalton smirks and inclines his head toward me. “She wants to sing.”

At least Pops has the decency to look properly reprimanded as Dalton tears into the package and starts placing the candles on the cupcakes.

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