Page 42 of Never Fear (Whiskey Ridge)
“You think he was working with Lance,” I guessed. Lance was the man we’d killed for threatening Brynne’s life. Himandhis men. He had men working for him all around, though. We’d known shooting them wasn’t going to end the problem, and would likely only stir shit up. What we hadn’t expected was for them to go after McKenna when she hadn’t been directly involved in any of it.
“Not a doubt in my mind.”
My arm fell to dangle between my legs. “Why McKenna?”
“Easy target.” Booker crossed his arms, the memory of Brynne in danger likely filtering through his thoughts, if his darkening gaze was any indication. “Wouldn’t put it past his group to pick someone else out from our bunch just for the sake of it.”
“McKenna’s not with us.”
Booker crooked a brow. “No? That why you’ve been following her all over town? Why you’ve been sleeping with her?”
“We haven’t been sleeping together,” I clarified, but notably didn’t try to dodge his other assumption. I hadn’t been around the ranch as much lately, and Booker wasn’t stupid. He could guess what I was doing even if he wasn’t a witness to it.
“Messing around, then. Whatever you want to call it.” He leaned forward in his seat, mimicking my posture. “They’re pissed we killed their head guy, and now they want revenge. I’ve already made it clear Brynne’s not to be fucking touched, and Henley’s got no collateral good enough for them to go after. Which leaves you.”
It was no offense to Aubree, really. She and Henley had been on and off since they started.
“McKenna and I are not a thing, Booker. There’s no reason they’d go after her to get back at us. She’s not close enough.”
“Like hell.” He leaned back again, not believing me for a second. “You think I’m blind, Austin?”
“No, asshole. I think you’re delusional.”
His frown only deepened. “You flirted withher in that diner for a long fucking while. Weren’t discreet about it, either.”
“So maybe someone was already watching her.”
“Yeah—Lance.”
My brows pulled together until it hit me. He was right. Lance had gone to that diner routinely. Made a point to talk to the girls, to eavesdrop and watch who they were connected with.
“Whatever he really wanted out of this, he knew it wouldn’t end with taking Brynne. If shit goes south, always have a backup plan.” Booker visibly swallowed, lips thinning into a line before he cooled his expression. “McKenna was their backup plan.”
“We weren’t together?—”
“You were close enough that Lance took notice and likely told his men. Now they want revenge.”
“So come to the fucking source and leave her out of it.” I wasn’t afraid to fight some cocky asshole. What I was afraid of was anything happening to McKenna. I liked to think I had thick skin, but as of late, I’d found that wasn’t the case.
“Tell them that,” Booker said, knowing damn well we couldn’t. Lance’s crew didn’t want us dead. They wanted to get even. We killed theirs, so they’d kill ours. That was how those ego-crazy men worked. Plus, to them, McKenna was easy. Coming after me, Booker, and Henley? They’d be dead before they stepped foot on our ranch.
“I’m not leaving her side,” I vowed. “They’ll have to try a lot fucking harder than standing outside her window if they want to get to her.”
Booker kept quiet. No words could lighten what weknew was coming. Either they’d take McKenna, or we’d kill them first.
I wasn’t about to let anyone touch my girl, which meant there was only one fucking outcome.
“Is that bacon?” McKenna’s unusually small voice came from the end of the hall, her words raspy with sleep.
“It is,” I answered, not glancing at the overflowing plate of bacon, which sat beside the cutting board filled with every egg in this house, cooked sunny-side up—her preference. Beside that was a platter piled high with pancakes, a tower of waffles, and a stack of toast.
My back hummed with her presence as she entered the kitchen, and I snuck a peek over my shoulder to find her rubbing her eyes. “Is there even any food left in my fridge?”
“Of course. Henley restocked it.” I’d called him once Booker made it back home to ask him to do a few things for me. A grocery run was one of them.
I flipped the last pancake in the skillet, then set the spatula down. Her silence caused me to turn her way, only to find skepticism shining her gaze. Her hair was slightly frizzy from sleep, which I had to admit was…adorable. “What?”
“Why would Henley do that?” Her question was hesitant, like she assumed there was some underlying intention here.
