Page 14 of Ranger's Justice

It’s only when we reach a steel-reinforced gate—one that slides open only after a long moment of silent scrutiny—that I realize where we are… some kind of safe house. That must be what this is. Not just some abandoned shack in the middle of nowhere, but a fortress.

Rush drives straight through, up a gravel driveway that leads to a low-slung cabin, wide and reinforced, designed more for survival than comfort.

The air is too still. The only sounds are the crunch of tires and the distant chirp of night insects and then a figure emerges from the shadows. Tall, broad-shouldered, eyes cold and assessing. He moves like Rush does—controlled, lethal.

“Gideon,” Rush says as he cuts the engine.

The man barely nods. “You were supposed to be back an hour ago.”

Rush grunts, tossing his door open. “Had to make an extra stop.”

Gideon’s gaze flicks to me. I stare back. He looks like a man who doesn’t trust easily. Good, because neither do I.

Rush rounds the front of the SUV, opening my door before I can decide about Gideon. He doesn’t offer a hand—of course not—but his presence is a command, as if he’s daring me to tell him I’d rather stay in the damn vehicle.

I won’t give him the satisfaction.

I step out, brushing past him, deliberately ignoring the way he moves in tandem with me, keeping his body close without touching. Like a shield. The heat from his presence hums against my skin, and damn it, I wish I didn’t notice.

But I do.

I force myself to focus. I’m in their territory now, and I need answers.

Entering the safe house, I can see at a glance that it is all business—functional furniture, state-of-the-art security, no unnecessary luxuries. Everything is designed for efficiency.

Which makes it even more obvious that I don’t belong here.

Rush closes the door behind us, sealing us in too tight, too close.

I spin toward him, my arms crossing before I can stop myself. “Alright, Ranger. Let’s cut the bullshit. I want answers.”

He arches an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. “That so?”

I plant my feet. “I want to know exactly who and what you are.”

He takes a measured step forward. “You already know who I am.”

I tilt my head, studying him. “Do I?”

His jaw ticks.

I press forward. “I saw you in that warehouse, Rush. You moved like—” I hesitate, searching for the right words. “Like something wild and primal, not like a man.”

His eyes flicker—just a hint, but I catch it. Something charged and dangerous seems to arc between us. Something dark. He knows exactly what I mean, but he’ll never admit it. Instead, he closes the distance, bringing every ounce of that controlled, simmering power with him.

I refuse to back down.

“Careful, Marlow,” he murmurs, voice low and rough, just a breath away. “If you keep pushing, you’re gonna find out things you’re not ready for.”

I hate the way my stomach clenches at the way he says my name, hate the way his presence seeps into my skin like a brand.

“You don’t scare me,” I whisper.

Something flickers in his eyes—something primal, something predatory and lethal—before he shuts it down completely.

“Then you’re dumber than I thought.”

I grit my teeth. “You’re hiding something.”

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