Page 9 of Recurve Ridge

I narrowed my gaze, taking in the faintest downturn of his lips that belied his smile. True worry etched his brow. In all the scant tells the younger man let show, he exposed only what he wanted me to see—and act upon.

I bared my teeth beneath my beard.Manipulation like that is an open door, my friend.

The curl of Alan’s lip when he looked at Miller told its own story. His gaze flicked between me and the closed door where Mari now slept in my bed. It might seem arrogant of me to place her there, but hell, she ran into my arms and home. I watched Alan, looking for what I might have missed in my first pass. Annoyance didn’t match what rang in my barman and friend’s gaze.

Concern.

“She escaped some sort of hell,” I hedged, unwilling to admit that, though she ranted at me the entire walk home, I hadn’t gotten a single piece of useful information out of her apart from her name. “And she’s been abused. That much is clear, but where—fuck.” I glanced at Alan.

The youngest kid in the room raised an eyebrow as if to say,Caught on yet?

The brat put together what everyone else hadn’t without my saying so, and I was a solid forty-eight hours too late with that intel. Of course he picked up on what I’d missed. His display of emotion didn’t bother me; on a deeper level, I knew what had happened to her. One simple fact remained obvious to us all—there was nonext houseon the ridge.

Gideon Blackthorne’s neighboring property matched the thousand acres of my land. His compound sat on the eastern boundary away from the cabin, on the other side of what the boys had fondly named Recurve Ridge. The forest Mari dove headlong through divided the distance between us, miles of scrappy woodland and sentinel pines that explained the surface scratches covering her body but not the rest of the damage she incurred.

Our remote location, paired with invisible fence lines we both made an effort to maintain without laying eyes on each other, provided both me and my sole residential neighbor a reminder of my failure in NYC. My presence gave his purpose—banishment for failing to keep me in check.

His boss had no concept of forgiveness, something I needed to teach both parties one day soon.

We kept our distance from each other by means of a keen dose of mutual hatred. The old adage about keeping enemies close ran through my mind, but all I wanted was his head in the center of my arrow range and a clean shot on a windless day.

The soldier turned businessman crossed the law at least as many times as I had, but if a moral line existed, he fell in at the furthest edge of the black.

On our other side, a tall ridgeline of the next mountain rose, harboring a few small vacation homes owned by NYC politicians and CEOs along with the odd athlete and a reclusive artist who avoided politics and people at all costs. Those were rarely used until the holiday season, though some hunting went on throughout the year, whether legal or not. At the base of the mountain, a few small homes contained the rest of the local population.

As we harbored our own issues with that side of the law, we stayed the fuck away from everyone else, unless those activities crossed over our boundaries.

Like they had today.

I held Alan’s startling azure gaze as each thought turned over in my head. I’d wanted a shot at Gideon for a long damn time. Now that the opportunity had landed in my lap, I couldn’t grasp a clear course of action.

Pursue the need to destroy Gideon and wipe him from the face of the earth, or the desire to wrap up the girl he took a hand in abusing, protect her until she could manage on her own again, and then return to clause one.

Choices, choices.

My bartender’s knowing smile irritated me, but not as bad as it did Miller, who strode toward the exotic dancer with his clenched fists raised.

Alan raised his own hands, palms stretched outward, his explanation falling on deaf ears. “We can keep her safe. No one should have to go through whatever happened to her?—”

Miller swung at the kid as soon as he ventured within range.

“Like a fucking schoolyard,” Jon spat. “You gonna break it up?”

“Alan needs to stand up for himself.” I kept an eye on my young spy and knocked my shoulder none too gently against Jon’s.

The moonlighting exotic dancer backed up at speed, his grace and balance enviable. For a man with fists thrown at him every half second, his backpedaled crabwalk looked nothing like a man scrambling to save himself from an ass kicking.

In fact….

I narrowed my eyes. “Shit, he’s good.”

Alan bobbed low on his heels twice and then rose in a smooth movement.

Timed to perfection between punches, the slighter man straightened into the empty, undefended space between a blur of fists and jabbed Miller square in the nose.

A muted chorus of sympathetic hisses filled the room.

“There it is.” I canted my head as Miller, clutching his nose, delivered a sharp side kick to Alan’s ribs. I winced for them both. “Damn. Schedule hand-to-hand training for tomorrow. It’s meant to be a clear day.”

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