Page 4 of My Ruthless Mountain Man

Holding Stone’s letter to my chest, I lock myself in my bedroom.

Ryan tossed the letters aside. But to me, they’re a lifeline. Proof that someone out there still fights for the people they care about, even when things are tough. I haven’t seen him since that birthday, but somehow, he still makes me feel safe. I wonder what he looks like now. Where he is.

The return address says Montana.

I change into my pajamas and snuggle down to read.Only one thing can take my mind off Ilya and the money.

Stone Colter.

I swearI feel every one of the twenty-four hours as they drag by. Ryan hasn’t answered any of my calls or texts. I’d be worried that Ilya grabbed him, if it weren’t for the black SUV that rolls slowly by my house every fifteen minutes. Earlier, the window was down, and I spotted Mikhail behind the wheel. It’s a relief to know they don’t have him, yet I’m terrified to my core.

Where is my brother?Why isn’t he returning at least a text message to let me know he’s safe?

I pace by the window and see the SUV again. Ryan has five minutes left. God, where is he? I call him and it goes to voicemail.

“Ryan, where are you? Please call me. They just drove by again and time is almost up.” I hang up and swipe a tear off my cheek.I want to scream at him. I want to hear that he’d never let them touch me. It’s that uncertainty that carves out my heart. I can’t stay here and wait to see if Ilya makes good on his threat to take me instead.

I run back to my room and throw a few things into a bag. I’m at the door when Stone’s letter catches my eye. Suddenly, I know exactly where I need to go. I think I have a few more minutes until the next drive by. The one that could end with Mikhail at my door. Taking the letter, I grab my keys andrun.

CHAPTER TWO

STONE

“How’s that railing coming,Stone? Think it will hold up under Anson’s ego?” Ezra calls to me as I drill the last screw into the post, attaching it to the rail.

“Fuck you,” Anson grumbles, though there’s no heat in his words. “Stone, make sure it will hold Ezra’s weight. He’s put on a few pounds since he shacked up with Madison.”

“You’re jealous because my wife is an amazing cook and you’re out here eating canned beans.”

My lips twitch as they start to bicker. We’ve been replacing the deck on the back of Anson’s house for the last four days and I think the heat is baking their brains. I wipe a bead of sweat from my brow and line up the next post. It’s almost done. Hell, it probably would have been finished already if these two worked half as much as they argued.

They’re good guys. Anson is one scary motherfucker at times. He turns those cold, dark eyes on you and you feel like you’re looking into the eyes of death. But then he’ll give a half smile and the illusion is gone. Ezra said he was a sniper for a short time before being recruited into some secret program. I don’t doubt it.

He and Ezra have become good friends as they rebuild Anson’s cabin from little more than a shack to a house that doesn’t leak. It’s therapeutic work in an odd way, and that’s what Solace Ridge is all about. Taking military vets like myself who’ve struggled to re-acclimate to society and bringing them here. Rebuild a cabin. Rebuild a life.

“Eat shit, Blackwood,” Ezra grumbles. “Just wait until you find a woman.”

“Not happening,” Anson replies.

“No one’s brave enough to seal that deal,” I add.

Ezra laughs. Even Anson snorts when he flips me off.

I like being around them. But watching them banter and the easy rhythm they fall into hits something sharp behind my ribs. I had that once. Someone to give me hell but have my back in any situation. Ryan and I were tight all through high school and our first years of service. It didn’t matter that his family had money and mine barely had food on the table. All that changed when he unleashed a fury I hadn’t seen coming. Spewing years of resentment at me until it spilled over into a fist fight.

I should have seen the signs sooner. Noticed that he wasn’t happy. That something was off. But it seems I’ve developed a habit of missing important clues. People have been hurt because of it, including me.

I’m ashamed to say it took five years to pull my head out of my ass and try to contact him. Not that the timing seems to matter. Ryan is stonewalling me. Emails, calls, even handwritten letters. He’s ignoring them all. The worst part? I don’t even blame him.

“If you’re done daydreaming, Stone, let’s wrap it up for the day,” Ezra says. “Want a beer?”

“Nah. Thanks man.” I dust off my hands and stand. One more section of rail and a few boards and this is done. “I need to head home before it gets dark.” Giving each a nod, I gather mytools and drive the short distance down the mountain to my own cabin. It needs as much work as Anson’s, but there’s something about being in these mountains—the peace of nature maybe—that makes me take things slower.

I park and grab my tool bags, heading around the house to the workshop out back. It’s barely more than a shed, but since I don’t have a garage yet, it keeps my tools dry. I put things away and throw the drill batteries on the chargers, enjoying the cool air on my overheated skin. It doesn’t get that hot in the mountains, but the beating sun still makes it warm. I whip my shirt over my head and wipe the sweat from my brow, then toss it over my shoulder.

Stepping out of the workshop, I take a breath of clean air and let it settle in my chest. The sun is sinking below the horizon and soon it will be fully dark, with a million stars above. Ryan would love it. He wanted to be an astronomer as a kid, but his parents squashed the idea because it wouldn’t earn enough money. He joined the military instead as a “fuck you” to them.

I wonder if Kendall, his baby sister, ever got out from under their thumb. She was a cute kid, born fifteen years after him. Despite the age difference, Ryan was her hero. She was glued to his side whenever we had a chance to go home.

---