Page 96 of Montana Memory

I tilted my head toward him, letting a slow, smug smile pull at my mouth. “Yeah. I remember. Alan, that prick. The money.”

Kelly’s eyes narrowed. “Where is it?”

I rolled my shoulders and looked at them like I couldn’t believe they were this slow. “If you want what Alan gave me, you’d better start treating me a hell of a lot better.”

Kelly laughed, short and humorless. “We’re the ones with the guns, sweetheart. You don’t give the orders.”

I didn’t flinch. I couldn’t. I leaned back against the wall like I had all the time in the world. “Then shoot me. Go ahead. Kill me. Let’s see how far you get without me.”

Johnson shifted, eyes flicking toward Kelly.

I knew I was pushing it, but I had to hold the line. Had to be the woman they expected me to be. The version of Jada who’d done unforgivable things without blinking.

Johnson stepped in close, voice low. “We could just start hurting you. A few broken bones ought to soften you up a little. Get the location that way.”

I smiled. Not because I felt brave. I smiled because it was the only thing that kept me from shaking. “Sure. Try it. And when I’m half dead and can’t walk, who’s going to get your money? You think I’m dumb enough to keep it in a box under the bed?”

They didn’t respond, and that was good. That meant they were thinking.

“You need me alive,” I said, softer now, like it was a simple fact. “And not just alive. You need me healthy and unharmed to get your half million. I set it up that way. So, no more bruises. Treat me right, or you get nothing. Take it or leave it.”

Johnson exchanged a look with Kelly once more. I couldn’t read it, but they didn’t argue. Didn’t threaten again.

They wanted that money. Wanted it more than they wanted to prove they were in charge. That worked in my favor—or at least would until they realized I didn’t have it or my memories.

I kept my expression neutral, my posture loose. But inside, my mind was racing.

They believed me—for now. That was the only edge I had. I could feel it already slipping, like sand through my fingers. They’d play nice until they realized I wasn’t of any use to them. Then they’d kill me. The only question was whether I could get away before that happened.

“Okay, if you guys are done fucking around, let’s go,” I said, getting gingerly to my feet. “You can have your money, and I can get back to my life.”

Chapter 31

Hunter

I caught the first plane out of Missoula the second I knew for sure something was off with Johnson and Kelly. Didn’t even stop for coffee, although I desperately needed it after driving all night to get back to the ranch. Just Denver-bound with a fire in my gut and a lead weight in my chest.

By the time my boots hit the pavement, I’d already secured a piece—legally, barely. Colorado laws weren’t my problem. Finding Jada was. And every instinct I had told me they had her. Johnson and Kelly didn’t strike me as the types to hang around Montana once they got their prize.

Denver was their turf. That meant they’d bring her back here, where they had connections, favors to call in, places to hide.

I went straight to the Colorado Bureau of Investigation office. Walked in like I had every right to be there and asked to speak with either of them. Which, technically, anyone did.

The lady behind the counter in the lobby looked me up and down, like she was trying to place me. I played dumb andpatient, took a seat in the lobby and waited. And waited. An hour ticked by—sixty minutes of watching clock hands crawl. Finally, she told me both Johnson and Kelly had checked in that morning, but they were gone now. Out on “official police business.”

Bullshit.

They came in to be seen. Clock in. Set an alibi. Then vanished.

I could’ve punched a hole in the wall.Official business, my ass. That business had Jada’s name all over it. And I’d bet every scar on my body they weren’t out tracking down perps or answering 9-1-1 calls.

I didn’t leave my name. Didn’t so much as blink at the front desk woman as I walked out. I didn’t want them to know I was in town.

As soon as I was clear, I called Lachlan. Then Lucas. Neither were at their phones, but I didn’t mind. Both were pulling strings, calling in favors, using whatever intel they could dig up. I left voice mails that Kelly and Johnson had been at work this morning and my theory that they were trying to build an alibi.

The second I got back into my rental car, I slammed the door harder than I meant to. The vibration echoed in my chest, but it didn’t do a damn thing to shake loose the panic.

PTSD was a beast I knew how to fight. I could spot the signs—tunnel vision, shallow breath, the slow pressure squeeze of a memory I couldn’t stop. I’d trained myself for that war.

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