Page 33 of Recurve Ridge

Even if I’d read him wrong, whatever Blackthorne wanted, killing me wouldn’t help him achieve his aims. My boys were well trained. If I died, they would disappear into the forest, and no amount of money or power would ever help him locate a single man—or Mari.

Until they were ready to take him down.

“I’m good.”

“Suit yourself.” Miller’s tone suggested he may as well have said,“Enjoy being slaughtered.”

I laughed under my breath and strode through the forest. The farther I walked from my house and the closer I came to Gideon, the thicker the trees became. We honored a tentative agreement not to cross each other’s boundaries, but the distinct lack of wildlife in an otherwise populated section of the woods suggested Blackthorne broke his end of the bargain on a regular basis.

Keeping my focus forward, I pretended I didn’t notice the sniper I walked below. As no bullet pierced my back—Blackthorne would never be so bold—I wondered how many men he would lose before our conversation ended. I counted six in the trees and three on the ground. If I missed any, Miller would find them.

The stocky little nugget from Georgia was a bloodthirsty bitch. Despite his compact frame, he could be as silent as Alan on his feet as he stalked his prey in his own playground. His favorite method of handling situations like this involved cutting throats in a literal sense. His broader skill sets included hiding bodies and removing all traces of their demise.

If Alan was a cold, psychotic little killer, Miller was our resident ninja.

We both saw bloody battles in the desert, fought back-to-back on more than one occasion, trusting the other man to hold his own. Thanks to Blackthorne, I also experienced a dagger in the back by my own people while he worked with the enemy enough times to learn a few extra tricks. Nor was I remiss in sharing that knowledge around.

Blackthorne waited at a point between two stones that, though they might look ancient, were put in place by Will during one of his initial scouting missions. Without being asked, he took on the responsibility of surveying and ensuring that the boundary lines between Blackthorne and Huntingdon lands were marked against any accidental incursion.

Anyone could call our “agreement” bullshit; we’d crossed that line on both sides more often than we’d met face-to-face in the past eight years. As an added bonus, Will had set up land mines on our side, just in case our nice neighbor changed his mind about our farce of a truce and crossed the boundary en masse.

I guessed he hadn’t counted on anyone coming across the treetops.

Another little trick in our tool kit.

And something to talk about when I debriefed the men after I returned.

IfI returned.

Gideon Blackthorne came into full view as I stepped out of the trees. Something hit the ground with a muted thump behind me as I eyed the man dressed all in black like some superhero villain. Dark hair was slicked back off his angular face. Thin black eyebrows and sculpted lips etched a permanent sneer on what should, by some metric, have been a handsome face.

A leather jacket that no doubt cost the same as the supplies to build the entire cabin hung over broad shoulders that could carry the weight of a full unit of men and not flinch. I knew that from experience. My nemesis completed his tailored outfit with black jeans and highly polished black loafers.

He didn’t walk through the forest in those. Not with a shine like that on the tops.

I held his pale blue gaze. Something crackled in the underbrush at my back.That’s two.I held back a grin; I could tease Miller for being slow after the fact, though I knew his current body count was double that.

Gideon’s forces would be down by a handful of men before he turned tail and headed home.

“What do you want?” I worked against mounting tension in my spine to set my shoulders in a relaxed line. Letting my hands hang free of my clothing, I rested my weight over the balls of my feet, not looking like I wanted to launch myself at him but maintaining the option either way.

Unformed figures shifted in the woods behind my enemy. Three men equipped with semiautomatic pistols emerged from the forest and took up position at Blackthorne’s back.

Not taking the pistol was a mistake.

It wouldn’t help against those guns. I’d be dead before I raised my hand, riddled with a hundred bullet holes before I managed a double tap.

Gideon would be my land’s proud new owner.

“Oh, I wanted to have a friendly chat. Neighbor to neighbor. You know, with a man I once worked beside.” Resentment glimmered in his eyes as he gave me a derisive once-over.

I wasn’t sure what bee had shot up his bonnet, but he had no reason to be unsettled about the way we parted company last time we spoke—him with ten proverbial guns pointed at my head and me retaining the business. Pretty sure the man hadn’t changed a whit.

“Have you tried knocking?” I held his stare and smirked.

“We don’t have that sort of—” Gideon stepped forward, placing a single foot over the invisible boundary line. “—relationship. Besides, you’ve taken something that belongs to me.”

If thatsomethingdidn’t happen to be Mari, I’d put his lack of empathy down to a rich-boy temper tantrum. A sense of guilt—and a loss of control—stiffened his neck. I could almost smell his fear, and that gave me a reason to bite.

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