Page 61 of Unmasked Rivalry
He hugs me, tight, and then turns and leaves, disappearing into the barn.
It feels like an eternity before the parade of blacked-out SUVs and battered cattle haulers rumble up the driveway. I take a deep, shaky breath, square my shoulders, and walk down the front steps. I have to keep it together because if Ralston so much as suspects a trap, I am dead.
He gets out of the first SUV, not wearing a suit but the shirt that he has on is so crisp and white, he might as well be. I wonder if when he got dressed this morning, he knew that he was going to die in that shirt. I hope he made the right choice.
Guilt pings my chest as I watch at least ten men pile out of the SUVs and trucks, all of them armed. What if they have families? I have to push the thought from my mind because, in the end, choices have been made and they picked the world they’re in.
“Well, Callie, I see you’re all ready for us,” Ralston grins as I approach. “I hope my cows didn’t cause you too many problems when you were moving them.”
His cows.
I could deck him.
“Well, they don’t like dickheads, so I had no choice,” I throw back sarcastically.
He winks at me. “I appreciate it. I trust you have the paperwork ready?”
“It’s inside the house,” I say casually, walking past him so he can’t ask any more questions.
The men have parked the trucks right where Zane hoped they would and are lowering the backs. I pretend to help out byexplaining the cows and which ones will cause trouble. Ralston watches, arms crossed, thinking he has struck gold.
Little does he know.
When he assists them in preparing the inside of the trucks, I take my chance to go and place the explosive under the wheel, like Zane instructed. I move quickly, leaning down and shoving the explosive in as far as I can get it, pushing it behind the wheel so it can’t be seen, then I straighten and flick Zane a message telling him it’s done.
It’s now or never.
I can’t let them get the cows out.
“Before you load the cows, let’s sign this paperwork,” I say to Ralston, casually kicking the dirt as if I’m bored. “Just in case they decide to break an arm or a leg, as I said, they’re not fans of dickheads.”
He chuckles. “I have quite the touch with cows.”
“We’ll see. I’ll go get the papers.”
He nods, smug.
He thinks he’s won.
He is about to find out just how wrong he is.
I WALK INTO THE HOUSE, rifling in the kitchen drawer for a pen I know isn’t there. I wait for Zane’s shape to flicker past the barn window, but it’s empty. No movement, no shadow. I slip the papers from a folder, sign my fake signature out of habit, and lean toward the sink. I count to thirty, expecting him to pop up, give the signal, anything. It stays dead-still out there.
I yank my phone out—no message. My chest contracts, each beat a hammer against my ribs. I fumble with the coffee machine, desperate for distraction, but it only fans the panic roaring up my throat, thick and sour. I stare at the clock, nailsdrumming an urgent tattoo on the counter. He was supposed to check in. I text, “Ready?” Nothing. I text, “Are you alive?”
Nothing.
My legs move before I can think. I slip through the back door, heel scraping concrete, heart slamming. I jog around the house, hands out to steady me as I cut low through the wet grass. At the barn door, I pause—oil, burning insulation, and damp hay crash into me like a wave. I clamp my mouth shut, then slip inside. Darkness swallows me; my eyes blink twice before they focus.
There he is: Zane, crouched by the relay box, body rigid as a statue. Two fingers pinched on a tiny, blinking object. His face is hollow—cheeks sunken, eyes wild. The lazy curve of his smile has vanished, ripped away by whatever horror he’s tethered to.
“Zane?” I whisper, voice cracking. I stumble forward, panic ricocheting off every wall. His eyes meet mine—wide, glassy, raw with fear. My stomach drops.
He doesn’t blink. “If I let go of this,” his voice is grated but somehow fills the space, “it all goes.”
It’s a punch to the gut. I choke out, “What?” as if the word can buy me more time.
He breathes out, slow and terrified. “I fucked up in the line somewhere. If this fuckin’ button slips, this whole place blows.”
