Page 21 of The Wrangler

Jesse pushed off the counter, his boots heavy on the hardwood as he walked toward her. “You heard me, I said, you don’t.”

She lifted her chin. “You don’t get to make that call.”

“I already did.”

Something unreadable darkened Jesse’s eyes, and his jaw was clenched. Final. Immovable.

Gavin let out a breath. “Jesse...”

Jesse didn’t look at him. “We’re leaving.”

Reed’s expression hardened. “Leaving? Going where?”

Jesse still didn’t look away from her. “My family’s place in the hill country. It’s in the name of an offshore holding company. I did that in case something happened to me. There’s no reason to tie it to me.”

Keely’s stomach dropped. He wasn’t talking about this house. He was talking about the other one—the one she’d heard Reed mention once, in passing, when they were at the club. A place so far off the grid it didn’t even exist on paper.

Jesse turned, daring anyone to challenge him. “You all can keep digging into Alvarez, track his movements, whatever you need to do. But I’m taking Keely out of play. She’s safer away from the city.”

Reed took a step forward, his voice deadly quiet. “You don’t get to take my sister somewhere without running it by me first.”

Jesse’s expression didn’t change. “She’s not safe at her house. He knows she’s here. I need to get her somewhere safe.”

Reed’s hands clenched at his sides. “You sure this is about her safety? Or is this about something else?”

A silent storm passed between them, something that had nothing to do with the diamonds or Alvarez and everything to do with Keely.

Jesse didn’t blink. “It’s about keeping her alive.”

And just like that, the conversation was over.

Keely should have argued. Should have told Jesse to go to hell, that she wasn’t about to be dragged into the wilderness by some caveman. But she didn’t. Because deep down, she knew—if she was going anywhere; it was going to be with Jesse.

The truck bounced over the dirt road, kicking up dust and heat as Jesse drove deeper into nowhere.

Keely had stayed quiet for most of the drive, watching the landscape shift from highways to rolling pastures to vast, empty land that stretched for miles. This differed from his place just outside of town. This was untouched land, the kind that felt as if outsiders had never set foot on it—no neighbors, no distractions, no exits.

He pulled up in front of the house—a small single-story house with a wraparound porch, its rust-colored tin roofblending into the landscape. The sun was setting behind the hills, casting golden light across the land, making it look almost… serene.

But Keely felt anything but. She turned in her seat, her voice sharp. “So, this is your grand plan? Drag me out to the middle of nowhere and keep me locked up?”

Jesse killed the engine, resting his hands on the steering wheel for a beat before turning to face her. “It’s not a prison, Keely.”

She let out a short laugh. “Feels like one.”

Jesse breathed out, his fingers drumming once against the wheel before he opened the door and stepped out. “You can either sit here and sulk, or you can come inside. Your call.”

He grabbed their bags from the back, not waiting for her to follow.

Keely muttered a curse under her breath before climbing out, slamming the door harder than necessary. The air smelled like wildflowers and cedar, the wind soft against her skin as she took in the complete silence. No cars. No voices. Just her and Jesse and miles of nowhere. Maybe things were looking up.

Jesse was already on the porch, unlocking the door, his body all rough lines and unshakable control. He pushed it open, stepping inside, and after a long beat, Keely followed.

The inside was warm and rustic, all wood and exposed beams, and like his other house, featured a kind of great room that combined kitchen, dining and living space all in one room. It smelled like the outdoors and leather, like him.

Jesse set the bags down by the staircase, then turned to face her. “It’s safe here.”

Keely crossed her arms. “Isn’t that what you said about the last place?” He growled, and she held up her hands in mock surrender. “Sorry. So, tell me, when does this little exile end?”

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