Page 35 of The Wrangler

Dawson’s voice snapped through the comms. “Not yet.”

Jesse was going to kill every single one of these motherfuckers.

Keely didn’t even blink. “As you said, I’m not stupid. I may have agreed to meet with you, but I have an insurance plan of my own. If I don’t check in with Silver Spur in the next five minutes, they’ll burn your whole goddamn operation to the ground.”

Nico stilled. His eyes flickered with something new—calculation.

Jesse let out his breath. She had him.

Nico’s grip loosened. He stepped back, nodding slowly. “Smart,chica.Very smart.”

Keely forced a casual shrug. “So? Do we have a deal?”

Nico’s lips curled. “You think you’re good at making deals? He turned slightly, gesturing to one of his men. “Bring her a chair. Let’s talk.”

Jesse’s breath evened out. Keely had done it. Nico had bought the lie, had let his guard drop just enough.

It was time.

That was the last mistake Nico would make for a long time—maybe ever. Jesse didn’t hesitate. His voice was sharp and lethal as it cut through the comms. “Now.”

Jesse was already off the rooftop, moving fast, his rifle secured to his back, his Glock in hand. The explosion hit seconds later—this one a distraction, a warning.

Keely wrenched free, dropping low, moving toward the cover he’d told her to get to.

Gunfire erupted, bullets slicing through the darkness as the Silver Spur team moved in. Jesse was already pushing forward, his rifle trained on the first of Nico’s men, dropping the bastard before he reacted. The mission had officially begun, and Jesse had only one focus—reaching Keely.

Jesse barely registered the orchestrated chaos. All he saw washer.

Keely had put space between her and Nico. He’d turned toward the explosion, pulling his own gun, his men scrambling around him. Jesse shot the first of Nico’s thugs.

Gavin and Hawke came in from the left, Dawson and Reed from the right, a wall of bullets tearing through Alvarez’s men. Jesse moved through the wreckage with single-minded purpose, every muscle primed, every instinct screaming to get to Keely.

Nico lunged after Keely, grabbing her wrist.

Jesse moved like a predator through the carnage, his gun an extension of his arm, his focus locked on one thing—Keely.

Gunfire cracked through the warehouse, a brutal symphony of destruction. Bodies hit the floor, screams tore through the air, and the acrid scent of gunpowder burned his lungs. But none of it mattered. Not the chaos. Not the bodies. Not the blood.

Only her.

Keely was somewhere in the wreckage, and every second Jesse wasn’t at her side was another second too long.

Hawke took out a man to Jesse’s left, a single shot between the eyes, while Gavin and Dawson flanked the back, cutting down Alvarez’s guards before they could regroup. Reed moved like a goddamn machine, knife flashing, taking out two men in a brutal, silent sweep.

But Jesse wasn’t thinking about them. He was thinking about Keely, about the moment he’d seen Nico’s knife glint under the overhead light as he yanked her against his chest.

Adrenaline surged through his veins, his vision narrowing on the far end of the warehouse. He saw her—fighting.

Keely twisted against Nico’s grip, her body straining, her hands grabbing at his arm where he held the knife to her throat. Her eyes met Jesse’s for a split second—fierce, defiant, but there was something else there, too.

Trust.

He had to get to her. Jesse moved fast, taking out two of Nico’s men with deadly precision. One shot, two shots, both bodies hitting the ground before they had a chance to fire back. He was twenty feet away, his Glock raised, his finger steady on the trigger.

Then Nico snarled something in Spanish and dragged Keely back, pressing the blade tighter against her throat.

Jesse froze. “Let her go,” Jesse ordered, his voice like gravel, rough and uncompromising.

---