Page 96 of Unguarded

Duke opens the driver’s door. “I bet I can get it to go a little ways.”

“Get his gun from underneath it,” I tell him.

We’re only a few miles from the edge of Redford Ranch. I climb into my truck and turn onto the remote road. We drive to the closest gate with me in front, Duke in the van behind me, and Sam bringing up the rear.

“You had no choice. He tried to shoot first,” Holden tells me.

My eyes are trained on the wet road. “I don’t feel a damn thing besides relief.”

He reaches over, peeling my shirt up. “You might need a doctor.”

The adrenaline pumping through me is masking the pain. All I can feel is a dull ache on my side. The truck pulls up to the first gate on Redford Ranch. Sterling jumps out to open it. We wait for him to get back inside after all the vehicles make it through. The overgrown road here is rarely used.

I pave the way, leading them deeper into the thousands of acres that make up Redford Ranch. We buried a body here last year when Rosie was kidnapped and held hostage. Murder isn’t something we take lightly, but when it comes to protecting our women, the Redford brothers don’t fuck around.

“Turn left. Let’s make sure it’s far away from the grave we already dug.”

We’re somber as we approach a small clearing. I get out of the truck, pulling the man from the bed by his ankle. He’s not breathing, having succumbed to his injuries and the blood loss. I don’t feel any remorse for what I did, knowing she’s safe now. We pull his body from the bed of the truck, and the rain starts to wash away the traces of his blood.

35

MONROE

My limbs are vibrating against my sides. Rosie dabs Dolly’s forehead with a damp rag.

“Are you sure we shouldn’t call an ambulance?”

“She’ll wake up at any minute. An ambulance will mean a report, maybe even police.”

“We didn’t do anything wrong. It was self-defense.” I hug myself, a chill running over me as the clouds above us grow darker. I don’t know what to do with my hands.

Dolly gasps, eyes flipping open as she tries sitting up. Rosie pushes her shoulders back down. She’s lying in the middle of the driveway, where she collapsed. The frying pan she used to whack my stalker over the head is beside her, coated in mud.

“Hold on. Hold on. You’re okay. You passed out. How dare you exert yourself like that! Your gimpy heart wasn’t built to attack grown men with a cast iron!” Rosie is crying now, cupping Dolly’s face with her hand.

I drop down to my knees, tears pricking my eyes. Cashtold me how much he worries about Dolly one night while we were lying in bed after spending the evening with his siblings. I could see in his eyes the fear he held for his sister, knowing how fragile she is. I reach out and grab her other hand, a sob choking me.

“I can’t believe you did that for me. You really risked your life to save me …” Sobs rack my body as I curl over her.

Her voice sounds weak. “Hey. Hey now. It wasn’t that bad. I couldn’t very well let him take you, now could I? God only knows what that freak had planned.” She pats my arm, trying to reassure me. She exhales a slow, steady breath. A smile pulls on the corner of her lips, but I only cry harder. “Cash would’ve beat my ass if I had.”

I sniffle, wiping the tears from my cheek with the back of my hand. “I’ve never seen a woman wield a frying pan like that. You’re a badass. Maybe I should’ve hired you as a bodyguard.”

Rosie laughs, reaching out to grab my hand. “You will learn quickly that the Redford family is a force to be reckoned with, even this little thing. Speaking of, I need to call Holden. Maybe they’ll be able to catch him.”

Rosie shifts Dolly’s head over to me before she stands up, pulling her phone out of her back pocket. I cradle Dolly against my bent knees. Raindrops spill from the sky. My wrist aches from where he tried to drag me to his van. My cheek smarts from where he slapped me in the face for screaming.

“I think I can get up. Let’s go inside. Who knows if he’ll come back?”

She grips my hand, and I help pull her up. She leansagainst me, walking into the main house through the ajar front door.

“Do you need some water? Or food?” I ask her, studying the side of her face, where the color is finally starting to return.

She sighs. “I think once I sit down, I could try to eat something.”

Rosie is on the phone in the kitchen. She points to the living room. “Take her to the couch. I’ll bring her a sandwich.”

I support Dolly’s slim frame and guide her to the sofa. She collapses on it, laying her head back and exhaling.

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