Page 72 of Nanny for the Single Dad Cowboy
He nods once, slow. “Promise.”
The word doesn’t sound big enough for what it has to hold.
I want to believe him. God, I need to.
He gives me that small, crooked smile I’ve fallen helplessly in love with, then turns and limps back toward the truck. He climbs in the back, shuts the door, and for a moment, everything is still.
The engines rev, headlights flare, and then they’re gone, swallowed by the dark road, the hum of tires fading into the distance.
The silence they leave behind feels alive. Heavy. Endless.
Ava moves first, slipping her arm through mine, her voice low. “He’s got this, Tessa. They all do.”
I nod, but my throat’s too tight to answer.
Quinn joins us, her face calm but eyes shining. “They’ll bring him in. The Morgans never lose.”
They’d better come back. I don’t want to be responsible for these two incredible women losing their husbands and destroying the Morgan family altogether.
The three of us stand there for a long while, just breathing in the cool air, the sound of crickets and the far-off wind. The porch light hums softly above us, casting a warm glow that doesn’t reach the hollow in my chest.
Eventually, Quinn squeezes my shoulder. “Come on, sweetheart. Let’s get inside.”
I don’t move. Not yet. My gaze is fixed on the road, the place where those red lights disappeared. It hits me then, sharp and quiet: For the first time in a long time, the ranch doesn’t feel safe. Because the man who made it feel that way is out there, walking straight into danger. For me.
And all I can do now is wait.
28
JACE
The truck tires crunch over loose gravel, winding around the hillside road. The air is cold and sharp against my face, carrying the faint scent of pine. The villa sits ahead, half-hidden in the dark folds of the hills, lights flickering along the roofline.
I glance at Beck and Zane in the front seats, eyes forward, taut, muscles coiled like springs. Beck checks his rifle again, the familiar rhythm of a man who knows his weapon better than his own heartbeat. Zane adjusts the satellite radio, running through frequencies. I nod at both of them. Calm, steady. This is what we do.
Ryder’s already on-site, perched like a shadow on the ridge overlooking the villa. I see the faint outline of him through the night vision feed on Zane’s device, rifle slung, scanning. Nowasted movements or unnecessary sounds. That man moves like he’s already disappeared once and will do it again before dawn.
I reach for my earpiece. “Ryder, we’re two minutes out.” My voice is steady, but there’s a charge in it that even I can feel: anticipation, adrenaline, the edge of the fight to come.
“Copy that,” he replies, calm as ever. “Villa’s three levels, main entrance at the front, and two side gates. Two guards at the main gate, one on the balcony above, and additional security rotating inside. Helicopter ETA, twenty minutes. Timing is critical.”
I memorize every detail, imagining it like a chessboard. Beck and Zane listen silently, nodding in acknowledgment. No questions or hesitation. They know the stakes as well as I do, and they know that hesitation gets people killed.
The villa is more visible now, its walls catching moonlight in a way that makes shadows dance across its balconies and terraces. The upper floors are mostly dark, the guards moving in predictable circuits. Ryder’s feed overlays on Zane’s tablet, tiny red dots marking every threat.
I take a deep breath. I can feel the adrenaline humming through my veins, hot and fast. The calm before the storm is always the worst part—that moment when your brain and body wait for something to explode.
I glance at Beck. His jaw is tight, hands resting lightly on his weapon, eyes scanning the ridge beyond the villa. “You ready?” I ask quietly.
Beck’s smirk is faint but sharp. “I was born ready. You know that.”
Zane, still watching the feed, gives a curt nod. “Let’s get it done.”
“Team,” Ryder’s voice cuts through the earpiece, soft but commanding. “They’re moving him now.”
I grip my gun a fraction tighter, tension coiling in my shoulders. This is it. The moment we’ve been waiting for. No mistakes. No mercy.
I can feel my chest tighten, adrenaline and fear wrapped into one sharp knot. But under it, something steadies me—the knowledge that my brothers are here, that Ryder is watching, that we can handle this.
