Page 23 of Badges
Like inviting that damn girl into my house.
For fuck’s sake. Me and my damn soft spot for Maria had me opening my mouth before I even thought through the repercussions.
But the way Elena kept calling me ‘daddy’ had me all kinds of—
“Nah, Dad’s probably up. He ain’t that old yet.” Sawyer bends back over the hoof, tossing me an errant wave with his tool without looking.
Mason has this life stuff figured out. Enough kids to run the ranch while he gets to hang out in the house all day with his pretty young wife?
I can’t even picture myself with children.
Hell, it takes two for that dance.
My knuckles rap against the heavy oak door. Within seconds I heard Mason’s deep voice calling out for me to come in.
“Wade? I didn’t expect you.” Mason’s stocking feet and messy hair makes it seem like he really did just wake up from a nap.
Or…
“Didn’t mean to interrupt.” I toss him a sly grin.
His eyes widen, then he grins. “Too soon,” he chuckles. “Coffee?” He steps sideways into the kitchen and pulls two cups from the cupboard before I can answer.
“Much obliged,” I grunt as I fold myself into one of the chairs by the table. “So, you know that girl we caught at Libby’s—”
“Wish there was the death penalty for what she did.” His jaw clenches, sliding a mug to me.
Ouch.
“Boy, you’re gonna hate this next part.” I make him wait while I take a sip.
His dark brows knot when he sits opposite of me. “What does that mean?”
“Welp. Seems she has some knowledge on who’s connected to all the hoopla here. So we’re working a plea deal for her to spill her beans.” I wave my hand in an idle circle.
“Jesus, Wade. She killed cows and blew their place up.” His voice raises. “Blue and Lib deserve justice for what she did.”
“I know, I know. But you and I both know there’s something bigger going on. She was sent to targetyourbrand and anyone affiliated with you. Don’t you want to find out who’s behind it?”
I stare him down for a moment, then shift my focus back to my coffee. I’ve known Mason practically my entire life.
He just needs to think. One of my favorite things about him is that he can be logical…most of the time.
After letting out a long exhale, he nods. “Yea, I do want to find the asshole who’s behind kidnapping my wife and daughter.”
There’s been a heap of trouble in these parts the last couple of years.
“So, one tidbit that came up. The one forcing her to do these sabotage, he called himself ‘Mad Man’. But I can’t find that pseudonym affiliated with any records. One thing she did mention, the perp knew her father, Quincy Evans.” A lump in my throat forms making it hard to swallow.
Ford and Blue know what happened to Quincy.
Mason doesn’t. And the fact that I buried him here on his ranch…I hope he doesn’t ever learn that fact.
“Oh, shit,” he exclaims, leaning back swiftly as his fingers thread into his hair. “I remember that name. There was a whole ratpack of ‘em fifteen years ago or so. Buncha damn troublemakers.”
“Do you recall any of the others?” With a practiced flick of my wrist, I pop out the small notepad I keep in my breast pocket.
The heels of his palms dig into his eyesockets. “Well, crap. I dunno. I had my own sandbox to play in. Chris, Russ, I think even Matt Simmons was in that group.”
