Page 89 of A Cowboy's Claim
Declan balanced his time between the usual ranch duties and watching Logan out of the corner of his eye—giving the kid space but ready to step in if needed.
Nights meant quiet talks with Sydney on the porch swing, her hand warm in his, the weight of unspoken worries settling between them like dust. The kind of dust you couldn’t sweep away, only wait to settle.
Through it all, the ache of waiting for Jake’s contacts to confirm the next steps with Dean and the RCMP throbbed like a bruise just under the skin. His chest stayed tight, as if waiting to exhale.
Jake kept his phone close, stepping away from the dinner table more than once to take low-voiced calls. Petra spent the evenings at her laptop, eyes narrowed, muttering about timestamps and digital breadcrumbs.
He didn’t press for details, but Declan caught enough to piece it together. Dean had agreed to talk to the authorities. Not on record yet, but enough to make the RCMP interested.
The deal was simple—if Dean followed through and verified the accounts Petra unlocked, they’d make sure the gang couldn’t follow the trail back to Logan. All Logan had to do was keep his head down, and he’d stay safe.
Jake offered to do the drop. Declan had insisted Logan didn’t need to be anywhere near it, and their contacts grudgingly agreed.
They hashed out the plan late one night around the battered kitchen table, maps spread out and Jake’s phone on speaker, patched through to his RCMP contact who was acting as a liaison.
“West of Okotoks,” Jake confirmed once they’d hung up. He tapped the spot with his finger. “Public enough to keep things aboveboard, isolated enough for a quiet conversation. We’ll time it for dawn to cut down on surprises. We bring the package. They trigger the next steps.”
“Who’s ‘we’?” Declan asked, although he already knew.
Jake leaned back, expression flat. “You and me.”
“Figured,” Declan said, dipping his head.
“Which means I’m coming too,” Sydney said, crossing her arms. She’d sat beside him in silence for the entire evening, but Declan wasn’t surprised she’d spoken up now.
Jake blinked. “Sydney, this is?—”
“I know exactly what this is.” She met his gaze firmly. “While we don’t expect a double-cross, I’m a licensed professional, and if anything does go sideways, my word would mean a lot in a court of law. You’re not leaving me behind when I might make a difference.”
Jake and Declan exchanged a look, but Declan knew better than to argue. “Fine. But you stay close and don’t play hero.”
Sydney’s mouth quirked. “Deal.”
Oddly, it was the morning of Aiden’s birthday when everything was finally arranged. They left High Water well before sunrise. They drove in silence, the grey morning a perfect foil for Declan’s mood.
When Jake finally parked at the edge of the pull off, all three of them took deep breaths before tightening coats and stepping into the chilly morning air.
The meeting point was nothing—just a gravel space at the side of the road with a fadedno campingsign and a trash bin with its lid busted off. The sky was low and grey, and silence pressed in around them like the pause before another storm.
Declan waited with his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his jacket, the wind cutting through the denim as if it had a personal grudge. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other beside the open tailgate of Jake’s truck, boots grinding against the gravel.
Sydney stood a few feet away, arms crossed, her windbreaker zipped tight against the wind. Her presence steadied him as always—but even her calm couldn’t untie the knot in his stomach. He couldn’t stop picturing Logan pacing in his room that morning, pretending not to be afraid.
Declan’s jaw clenched. The kid was trying so damn hard to build a future, and being implicated by his brother was the kind of mess that could tear it all apart.
The dark grey SUV pulled up without headlights, tires crunching on the gravel.
Jake stepped forward as it came to a stop, his posture relaxed but alert. Declan recognized the way he moved—back in police mode—deliberate, calm, like a man who’d dealt with enough dangerous people to know when to keep his hands visible and his voice level.
Two men stepped out of the SUV. One wore a sharp suit with the expression of someone who hadn’t smiled in days. The other had on a plain RCMP windbreaker, the emblem barely visible in the dull light. Both of them scanned the turnout before coming to meet Jake.
“You brought it?” the officer asked.
Jake nodded and reached into his coat. “Everything we talked about. USB stick, hard copy of the file tree, the access notes our man pulled from the tech. We scrubbed it—clean copy only.”
They all agree Petra’s name would not be mentioned at any point, no matter how much she’d contributed.
Declan watched the officer take the envelope, slide it into a black evidence case, and hand it to the suit without a word. It was quick, efficient. Should’ve felt like relief.
