Page 68 of Where They Belong

Nick huffed, not at all happy, but Colt didn’t care. If the Bristows were behind this, he was going to make sure they didn’t get a chance to run or destroy evidence. Of course, Nick and his deputies were more than competent, and normally, he would leave them to it, but . . . this time, it was personal.

“Fine,” Nick growled. “But you can’t go storming onto their property, Colt. You know better than to approach potential suspects without backup. Wait for me at the gates.”

Colt’s first instinct was to argue, but he couldn’t let his feelings for Mason cloud his judgment. At least not any more than they already had. Anyone else, he would have told them to step back. But Nick was right. “I’ll wait.”

“Good. I’ll be there in about forty-five.”

Colt glanced at his watch. If he left in the next five minutes, he’d beat Nick to the Circle B by ten minutes.

“Can you send whatever you’ve already dug up on them to Wes?”

“Yeah, okay. I’ll radio Maeve to send it over now,” Nick replied and then, in a stern voice, added, “Do notenter the Bristow property until I get there.”

“Got it.” Colt ended the call and pocketed his phone as he walked back into the barn.

“I’m going to meet up with Nick at the Bristow’s ranch. I need you to stay here with Mason,” he told Wes. “Don’t let him out of your sight for a second. Text Levi and tell him to stay glued to John until I get back.”

“Will do.” Wes folded his laptop closed and stood, leaving it on the hay bale.

“Maeve is going to send you whatever info they have on the Bristows too.”

Wes nodded and pulled his phone from his shirt pocket. “I’ll text you if I come across anything else useful in them.”

Colt turned to Mason, who was standing in the doorway of the stall, watching him with worried eyes.

“What’s happening?”

Colt walked over and pulled him into a hug. Mason tensed for a second and then melted into him. His arms wrapped around Colt’s waist and clung tight. Mason smelled like leather and sunshine and life. Reluctantly, Colt stepped back, fleetingly acknowledging the loss of that warm, vibrant body so close to his.

“I have to go take care of something.” Colt fought to keep his voice even. “But don’t worry. Wes is going to be your shadow until I’m back, and Levi is going to keep an eye on John.”

“Can’t one of them go and you stay here with me?”

Colt shook his head. He wanted nothing more than to stay, but while his brothers were adept at reading people, his skill at it bordered on preternatural. “This is my strong suit.”

Mason held his gaze, and Colt braced for an argument, but Mason sighed and said, “Hurry back, then.”

“I will.” Colt leaned forward and kissed him, crossed a professional line right there in front of everyone. Granted, he’d already well and truly crossed that line, but only Wes had known before this moment.

With a squeeze of Mason’s hand, Colt turned and headed for his truck before he changed his mind. He studiously avoided making eye contact with any of the staff that had seen the kiss as he exited the barn.

As he’d predicted, he arrived at the arched gates to the Circle B Ranch ahead of Nick and pulled off onto the shoulder to wait. He thrummed his fingers on the steering wheel and glanced at his watch every few seconds, all the while replaying snippets in his mind of the last couple of days with Mason—falling into bed together, limbs tangled, skin heated and sweaty as they raced for release, as though they were making up for lost time. And the mornings, leisurely, languid loving. Vibration in his pocket snapped him back to the present. The lock screen on his phone displayed Wes’s name.

“Is Mason okay?” The question was out before Colt even thought to ask it. He squeezed his eyes and took a deep breath.

“He’s fine,” Wes said in a soft rumble. “But I was calling because I got the files on the Bristows from the sheriff’s office.”

“Right.” Colt released his breath. “What did you find?”

“Might be a reach, but . . .” Wes hedged.

“But?”

“Gentry Bristow’s birthday is March third, 1989.”

Colt thought for a second, the digits moving around in his mind before they clicked into place. He snorted.

“Three-eighty-nine. Can he really be that stupid?”

---