Page 84 of Protecting Her Secrets

“As long as you promise no funny business. You have a head injury.”

“I promise. I just want to be close to you.”

Knowing all this comes from a place of fear, the best thing I can do for him is prove I’m okay. So, I spend the next twenty minutes washing him from head to toe, taking care of him after he took such good care of me. After, we tuck ourselves in bed, him on his back and me draped across his chest. I still have blood matted in my hair, and he has scabbed over knuckles.

We’re quite the pair.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Walker

With the temperaturein the fifties and the snow melted enough to see patches of grass, I gather the bitches into the mobile enclosure and move them out into the yard to do whatever chickens do. They’ve been cooped up for over a week and are starting to get cranky.

Once they’re settled, I grab my shovel and rake to deep clean their coop. My scabbed knuckles split when I grip the handle, the same way they’ve done every day since Skylar found me losing my mind in my gym. It has been a week of peace since then, and I’m grateful for it.

Skylar’s head is healing nicely, and she’s no longer in pain. Her biggest complaint is the itchiness from her hair growing back in. She wants to go visit Jazzy, who’s recovering at her parents’ house, but I had to veto that idea. Until Klutch gives up or is in jail, it’s best if we keep Skylar secluded at home. Thankfully, Jazzy called her to make sure she wasn’t blaming herself. After hearing that, I saw some of the weight Skylar has been carrying alleviate.

I’m in the middle of scooping shit into a wheelbarrow to take over to the compost pile when Sprocket prances back from wherever he was. He usually sticks close by, but sometimes, he likes to explore on his own. I never worry—he knows his boundaries and has never gone beyond them.

“Hey, buddy. Find anything good out there?” He jumps on me, over and over, nipping on the bottom of my jacket. “Knock it off. I have chores to do.”

I brush him away, but it doesn’t discourage him. He bites down on my jeans and tugs. This behavior isn’t like him, so I take notice. I set down the shovel, since it seems like he wants me to go with him, and I follow him into the woods. My movement sets off all the alarms, and my phone vibrates like crazy in my pocket, but I’m glad for it. This was a good test to make sure everything was working.

Sprocket herds me in a specific direction, deep into the forest, until we reach the bottom of my property line, where the nearly hidden turn-off to my hill is. He whines and jumps around something lying just on my side of the chain link fence. Maybe a wild animal was about to die and picked its final resting place to be here. It wouldn’t be the first time that happened.

But the closer I get, the more questions I have—is that a pig? What the fuck is a pig doing out here? The hairs on the back of my neck stand up. Something isn’t right. I crouch closer, and sure as shit, a piglet is lying in a heap, complete with a corkscrew tail. If I had any doubt about how it got here, the dagger sticking out of the top of its head tells me all I need to know.

What the fuck? Klutch has to be behind this. It’s too much of a coincidence.

My stomach turns, and I have to swallow down bile seeing the poor thing’s open eyes. I’m a hunter and a meat eater, but I don’t kill for sport. I don’t take the loss of any life for granted, and the animals I kill are treated with the respect they deserve;we don’t let anything go to waste. Some people might not see the difference and still might consider me evil, but I’m at peace with the way I live.

Pulling out my phone, I dial Wilder. He needs to see this and take it in for any potential evidence. It’s so close to my property line that the cameras must’ve missed it, which means if this is them, they’ve scoped out my security system.

“Walker,” he answers.

“Need you out here. There’s a dead pig on my property.”

“Did someone’s livestock get loose? Don’t know how they’d make it to your land, though.”

“No. Someone drove a dagger through its head and left it here.”

“Broken Rebels?”

“I think so.”

“Fuck. Okay, I’ll be there in a half hour.”

“Thanks.”

I tuck my phone back in my pocket and head back to the house. Even though I know Skylar’s safe, just the thought of Klutch being this close makes me uneasy. I need to keep her in my sights for my own peace of mind.

I clap my hands. “Sprocket, go home.”

He runs up the hill at full speed, and it gives me some sort of comfort to know at least he’ll be with her soon. It takes me longer, especially with the ground covered in wet leaves and patches of snow. I’m just through the tree line when Wilder’s SUV pulls up. Behind him is Rowan’s pick-up, Ridge in the passenger seat. Great, the whole gang is here.

Skylar steps out onto the porch. Ryker was thoughtful enough to grab her bags of clothes and deliver them the day after Skylar was shot at, so my long underwear isn’t a wardrobe staple anymore. It’s nice to see her in clothes that fit, but the caveman in me enjoyed seeing her in my clothes.

Her bump is obvious in the leggings and long-sleeve workout top, and I grin at the sight. I know she’s not carrying my baby, but I’ll be the one to raise him, so that makes me more of a father than Klutch will ever be.

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