Page 78 of Gravity
“Why not?” Viper said, frowning.
“Because he’ll either kill Franklin or take off back to Las Vegas. They seem close.” Winter shrugged.
“Winter, check with Las Vegas PD. But right now, that’s enough for tonight. We all need a break.” Dave’s voice came low, final, as he straightened beside Stone.
The room stilled.
Orders suspended, men left the room in ones and twos. The buzz of radios faded as most of them filed out to the bunkhouse, and a few wandered up the stairs to the upper level of the ranch’s main house.
For a few breaths, it was just the two of them.
“Retirement’s looking better and better.” Dave dropped into a leather chair, the wear showing in his shoulders more than his voice.
“You talk like it’s a dream. I’m ready to start packing.” Stone eased down beside him, close enough that their knees brushed in the lamplight.
“Colorado, here we come,” Dave half joked.
Stone let the words sink in. Colorado. He could almost see it—pines rising against snow-capped peaks, a cabin with smoke curling from the chimney, mornings quiet enough that the only thing he’d hear was Dave’s voice. No radios, no missions, no blood in the air. Just them.
“But Tatum first,” Stone murmured, brushing his fingers to his lips as if sealing the vow.
Wordlessly, Dave nodded and linked their fingers before drawing Stone from the chair and toward the stairs. The promise of Colorado went with them—distant, but real.
The bunkhouse was quiet, the kind of quiet that came only after long days and longer fights.
Rip sat on the edge of his bed, unrolling a fresh bandage for the scrape on his forearm. His fingers worked by habit—fast, efficient—but the knot slipped, sloppy.
“Christ,” Boston said from across the room, flicking a knife through his fingers like it was born there. “You’re wrapping that like a rookie. Want me to tie your shoes while I’m at it?”
Rip’s head came up slowly, eyes narrowing. “Say that again, pup. See what happens.”
Boston grinned wide, leaning back on his bed like a cat stretching in the sun. “You’ll bleed all over yourself and make Winter clean it up.”
Winter, stretched in a chair near the fire, cracked a smile without looking up from the magazine he was reloading. “You two fight more than married people.”
Law sprawled on a bunk, scrolling through his phone. His whiskey-colored eyes flicked to Boston with a smirk. “At least married people know when to shut up.”
Boston’s grin widened, sharp as a blade. “Thanks, Grandpa. Don’t you have some report to write?”
Law’s smirk lingered as he looked back down. “I would, but watching you talk is free entertainment.”
A few snorts rolled through the room at that, low and quick, before the quiet settled again.
Rip’s head turned toward Boston, the knot slipping loose again under his fingers. He cursed, fumbling. “That why you’re jealous, pup?”
Boston barked a laugh, sharp and cocky. “Jealous? If I wanted old and slow, I’d call my uncle.” He flicked the knife once more.
Black’s grunt carried from the table where he sat methodically cleaning his sidearm. That was as close as the man got to laughing.
Micah lingered near the hearth, arms crossed, eyes darker than the shadows. The kid hadn’t said much since they got back.
Black cocked his chin at him. “You breathing, or just standing there?”
Micah’s shoulders lifted in a shrug. “Better than Franklin’s guys.”
That cracked the room open. Laughter barked off the walls, Boston nearly losing his knife in the air.
Rip felt the corner of his mouth twitch. Not a smile, not quite, but close. The kid had teeth. He’d fit.
