by Nicole Helm
“I trust you, Tuck. How could I not?” Brady said, very gravely, very carefully as if every word was picked for greatest effect. “You’ve never given me a reason not to.”
Cecilia kept her mouth shut, even though shady appearance out of nowhere was at the top of her list for not trusting him.
“My theory is they’ll head back to camp this afternoon. They won’t wait around at the ranches too long for you to show up, because if you’re not going to rush back, you’re probably not coming, right?”
“Were you there when Cody called me to tell me about the fire?” Brady asked, frown still in place.
“In the room? No. Dev and I were out searching for signs of Elijah’s men.”
“But you were home at the ranch when the fire started?”
“Well, yeah, we’ve all been taking turns keeping close. If we’re all there it looks suspicious, so Jamison and Liza were back in Bonesteel with Gigi. Cody is having some guys work on his house so it looks like he and Nina and Brianna are staying with the Knights during renovations. And I come and go like I usually do, though I try to stick around a little extra time without being too conspicuous. That’s what we planned from the beginning, isn’t it?”
It all sounded good, and Tucker seemed at ease with the questioning and with his answers. Cecilia shouldn’t have that gut feeling that something was all wrong.
But she did.
“We’ve got a few hours to set up some kind of...booby trap, for lack of a better word. Something that will stop Elijah from getting close to the Sons camp. Of course, our main problem is he could easily message for backup—and backup would come ASAP.”
Brady helped her over a particularly unsteady part of the rock where she was struggling to get her footing. He didn’t say anything, so she did the same. Tucker followed, as if happy to walk in utter silence with no feedback on his plan.
“We put out a few things that take his tires out. Then a little ways down the road we do some kind of...ambush? Trap? Something they can’t get past. The only problem we’re up against is their phones.”
“Won’t they immediately call for help if they blow out a tire? Before they even get out of the car?” Brady returned.
Tucker shrugged, continuing to follow them down closer to that makeshift road. “Depends on how in a hurry they are. Out here blowing a tire wouldn’t be that uncommon. Probably used to it. No reason to get extra people when they’ll have the ability to make a quick change themselves.”
Cecilia studied Brady. He seemed to be considering Tucker’s ludicrous argument. Brotherly love or not, Cecilia would not walk them into an ambush like that.
“That’s ridiculous,” Cecilia said forcefully. “Elijah wouldn’t sit around waiting for the tire to be changed. Especially if he’s trying to figure out why we didn’t come chasing after him like he hoped. He’d call for another ride, or he’d walk it. He’s not going to sit around and change a tire or wait for his men to.”
Tucker didn’t argue, but he didn’t pipe up to agree with her assessment either. So, she kept talking. “It can’t be something they need to be rescued from or can be helped out. It has to be their idea to get out of the car, without raising any red flags that might make them call ahead to the camp.”
Tucker and Brady mulled this as they walked. When she hissed out a breath from landing too hard on her already aching leg, that sent a jolt of pain through her stab wounds, Brady held out a hand to help her again.
She noticed Tucker watched the exchange carefully, and it dawned on her that Brady hadn’t mentioned her injuries to Tucker. It was pertinent information, especially as they made plans. But he’d avoided the topic.
Maybe he didn’t fully trust Tucker either. Her heart twisted because she knew that had to be eating him up alive. To question one of his brothers. And if Cecilia was right in her gut feeling? If Tucker was up to something wrong?
The whole Wyatt clan would be...wrecked. There was no other word for it.
They walked farther in silence. Cecilia kept her eye on Tucker. Something was up with him. She didn’t want to think it was nefarious, but what else could it be? If it was anything good, he’d tell them.
They were coming up on the path that worked as entrance into the camp now. “If I’m going to be the prisoner anyway, why not use me as a diversion here?” Cecilia pointed to the road a ways off.
“He might think something’s fishy about stumbling upon you,” Brady returned.
They all stopped and Brady passed her a water bottle, which earned another careful look from Tucker. Cecilia met his considering gaze and raised an eyebrow. Tucker only turned away.
Something was really not right here.
“We’d have to set it up. Make it look like I’m trying to get to camp, trying to not be seen, only we have to make sure he sees me. And doesn’t see either of you.”
Brady studied the area around them. “It’s too open. Why would you be hiking through here when you could be in the rock formations?”
Cecilia considered Tucker. Her best idea was to milk her injuries, pretend like she was struggling to hike and needed the even ground. But Brady hadn’t mentioned her injuries, and that had to be purposeful. So she flashed a fake smile at Tucker. “You mind giving us a few minutes?”
Tucker’s eyebrows drew together. “Huh?”
“I want to talk to your brother in private. Without you listening. Can you go over there?” She pointed to some rocks in the distance.
“You can’t be serious,” Tucker replied, and his outrage didn’t seem fake. That felt very real. The first real reaction he’d given since they’d “bumped” into him up on the lookout point.
It was good to see something could elicit a real response out of him. “I’m very serious. What I have to say to Brady is private. So...” She made a shooing motion.
Tucker turned his indignant gaze to Brady.
Brady sighed. “Just give us a few, Tuck. This isn’t about you anyway.”
Tucker’s mouth firmed, but he walked toward the pile of rocks Cecilia had motioned to. And boy, did he not seem pleased about it.
Which, in fairness, could be his reaction whether he was trying to help or sabotage. The younger Wyatt brothers were never very good at being dismissed. Which was why she’d always gone out of her way to find ways to dismiss them.
She glanced up at the Wyatt brother still with her. He’d always handled it the best. With just enough disdain to irritate her right back. None of the carrying-on or male bluster, just a calm nonchalance that always had her losing her temper first.
That warm feeling was spreading through her chest again, but she had to shove it away and focus on the problem at hand. “I didn’t want to say it in front of him, but if I overact my injuries, it might be a plausible enough reason for Elijah to believe I was taking the easy route in.”
“Maybe, but only if it was dark. I don’t think he’d believe you doing it midday. There’d be no reason.”
Cecilia frowned. True enough, but if Elijah was coming back this afternoon, they didn’t have time for that.
“Why’d you send him over there for that?” Brady asked.
“Why didn’t you tell him I’m hurt?”
Brady scrubbed a hand over his face. “I...don’t know.”
“I know why, Brady. You didn’t tell him because we can’t actually trust him. Something isn’t right about all this.”
Brady’s forehead lined and he stared at Tucker bent over the rock. “Maybe it’s not right, but... I can’t let myself not trust my own brother. Not Tuck. He wouldn’t... He just wouldn’t. Whatever is off is something he can’t tell us, but that doesn’t mean it’s wrong or bad.”
Cecilia frowned at him even as her heart pinched. She understood his loyalty, the need for it.
But she absolutely could not be caught in the cross fire of his misplaced loyalty.
>
Chapter Eighteen
Brady felt as though he was being pulled in two very correct directions. This was not black-and-white. There was no one clear, right answer.
He had to trust his brother. His younger brother. Tuck, who had always been good and dedicated to his law enforcement career, to taking down Ace and the Sons. Brady absolutely had to trust Tucker—it was the right thing to do.
Brady had also made a successful law enforcement career through listening to his gut, and the facts. Both the facts and his gut pointed to this being all wrong. Those things told him not to trust Tucker.
Then there was Cecilia. He’d made her sit down because she looked too pale. She was all but staring daggers at Tucker who was moving back over to join them.
“I have an idea,” Tucker said grimly. “You probably won’t like it.”
“You’re finally catching on,” Cecilia muttered.
Tuck pretended not to notice. “The thing is, he expected you both to run back to the Knights after the fire. He expects you to be mad, right? Probably doesn’t expect you to run to the Sons camp, but it wouldn’t be out of the question for either of you to come after him directly. He wouldn’t necessarily find it out of character if one of you were waiting here for a standoff.”
“That’d be suicide,” Brady replied.
“Would it though? I don’t have any evidence Elijah has ever killed anyone. Do you?”
“We could say the same about Ace,” Brady replied, resisting the need to rub his chest where that truth always lodged like a weight.
Tucker shook his head. “We know better. And sure, Elijah could use his goons as mercenaries to keep his hands clean. Ace did enough of that. But Elijah isn’t Ace. He’s not the leader of the Sons. He’s trying, sure. Maybe he’s even getting there. But he’s lived his life outside the camp. No matter how involved he’s gotten.”
“He thinks we’re dumb, Brady,” Cecilia offered. “He thinks he’s smarter than us. And I think he’d want to have a face-off. He’d want to talk. He wouldn’t shoot first.”
“But he could,” Brady insisted. “We could let Cecilia stand out there in the middle of the road, ready for a showdown, and he could just flat-out kill her in two seconds. Not happening.”
“I took Mak. I know where Mak is, and his goons didn’t try to kill me. They tried to take me.”
“Which is exactly why you wouldn’t be stupid enough to go after him. He might underestimate us, but I don’t think he’s going to be fooled by a standoff with you.”
“Not her,” Tucker agreed. “Mak or no, I think the potential for Elijah killing her is certainly higher than not. He’d want to torture her a bit, but if she was antagonizing him, he’d be fine with just taking her out. You, on the other hand, are a Wyatt. Ace Wyatt’s son. Ace might be in jail, but we both know he still has some power here. You’re worth more alive than dead as a power move. Even if you were threatening him, if he could bring you into camp, make some kind of example out of you in front of the group members—”
“Yeah, no,” Cecilia said firmly, pushing up from the rock with a wince. “We picked me to be the distraction for a reason.”
“But it’s not just you two anymore,” Tucker said evenly. “You have me.”
“If I’m not standing there facing Elijah, neither is he. End of story.”
“You two seem really worried about each other.”
“So what if we are, Tuck? Got a problem with wanting people to stay alive?” Cecilia returned, and clearly wasn’t thinking of her injuries when she stepped toward Tucker threateningly, like she was ready to fight him.
Tucker didn’t react except to move his gaze from Cecilia to Brady. “Would you do it?”
Cecilia whirled, her eyes all flashing fury. “Think very carefully about how you answer that question, Wyatt.”
Which gave him some pause. He didn’t care for being ordered about in that high-handed tone, but the reason behind it was, well, care. She cared about him. Didn’t want to see him taking unnecessary chances any more than he wanted to see her taking them.
The more they talked about variables, adjusted plans, the more he realized...he couldn’t let any of them get caught by Elijah. It was too much risk.
“He’d expect some kind of ambush if we were the aggressors,” Brady said, carefully avoiding Tucker’s direct question. “No matter how stupid or emotional he thinks we are, he’ll suspect there are more of us waiting.”
Tucker’s expression was inscrutable, and the awful don’t trust this guy feeling burrowed deeper. Tucker was never inscrutable, except at work. He had said this was work. But it was also life.
All three of them turned toward the sound of an engine. It was far off, carrying over the wide-open landscape around them.
“We don’t have enough time for a plan. Just hide.”
Tucker swore. “Where?” he muttered, whirling around. “You two, there,” he said, pointing to the small pile of rocks. “Three of us can’t fit, but I can run over to those.”
Tucker didn’t wait to see if Brady would agree. He started to run and Brady couldn’t argue with him. They didn’t have time. He grabbed Cecilia’s hand and they ran for the pile of rocks.
“If we’re here they shouldn’t see us unless they look back, which they’d have no reason to. You get situated in the most comfortable position. I’ll get in around you.”
“Just get out of sight, moron,” she returned, settling herself behind the rock. He sat beside her. He’d need to sink lower.
“You need to be in a comfortable position that isn’t putting too much pressure on that stab wound.”
She muttered irritably under her breath, readjusted her position lying behind the rock, then he pretzeled his body to fit around her so they were hidden by the rock. Someone would really have to be looking for them to see them.
God, he hoped.
The engine was getting closer, though it was hard to tell how close the way noise moved and echoed in the vast valley. He could only keep his body as still as possible, focus on keeping his breathing even, and not crushing Cecilia.
Seconds ticked by, stretching long and taut, but he had been trained to deal with these kinds of situations. He couldn’t think of what-ifs. He couldn’t let his brain zoom ahead. He had to breathe. Steady himself and believe the car would pass. Everything would be fine.
He could tell the engine was getting closer, but how close was impossible to discern. He wouldn’t be able to believe it was past them until he didn’t hear it at all. So he focused on the even whir of the engine carrying on the air. Once it was gone, it would be safe.
A car door slammed above the low buzz of the engine. Both he and Cecilia jerked, almost imperceptibly. Training could keep them tamping down normal reactions, but it couldn’t eradicate reflexes completely.
Cecilia’s hand found his arm and she squeezed. Their breathing had increased its pace, but he could feel them both working together to slow it. In then out. Slow. Easy.
He couldn’t hear over the pounding in his ears, or maybe there was nothing happening. Maybe the car door was miles away. Maybe they were overreacting.
“I saw something.”
The voice was clear, close, and most definitely Elijah.
Brady listened as footsteps thudded. It sounded like the men Elijah was speaking to split up and went in different directions, but he couldn’t be sure. He was tempted to risk a look, but Cecilia was still squeezing his arm as if to say don’t.
Silence was intermittently interrupted by footsteps, the faint murmur of voices, or a scuttling sound that Brady eventually figured was rocks being kicked.
Then suddenly the sounds of a scuffle, maybe even a punch and a grunt. Then a voice Brady didn’t recognize.
“Found a Wyatt.”
More footsteps—farther away from Brady. The sounds seemed to fade away, but he
could just make out Elijah’s words. “Well. This is an interesting development.”
Cecilia’s nails dug into his arm, as if she could keep him here. And it should. Brady should stay put. So, he held on to the fact that Tucker could take care of himself. He was smart. A detective. And a Wyatt, so like he’d said—more valuable alive than dead.
Elijah seemed surprised to have found him. Which meant whatever odd reason Tucker had for being here, chalking it up to coincidence, didn’t have to do with the Sons.
Or does it just not have to do with Elijah?
“Not the Wyatt I expected, I have to say,” Elijah’s voice echoed through the midday heat. “Of course, where there’s one, there’s usually more.”
“Yeah. Probably,” Tucker replied, sounding almost cheerful. “Home sweet home, you know?”
Cecilia’s intake of breath was sharp and audible. Brady shook his head just a bit, even though he doubted she’d see or feel it.
Tucker wasn’t ratting them out. He was bluffing to Elijah so Elijah didn’t go looking for them.
“Hurt him till he talks,” Elijah ordered crisply. The order was immediately followed by a thud and a whoosh of breath.
Brady had to close his eyes, even though he couldn’t see from behind the rock anyway. Tucker could take it. He could handle it.
Brady needed to stay put. Protect Cecilia. Tucker could take care of himself. This wasn’t all that far off from what they’d been planning. Let him be taken, carefully follow. Arrest.
Tucker could handle it. Brady repeated that fact to himself as he heard the thud of blows, the grunts of pain. This was still better than sending an injured Cecilia to do the job.
He opened his eyes as the sound of fighting increased.
Brady couldn’t stand it. He simply couldn’t listen as Tucker got beaten by three men. Even if they kept him alive, they could do anything to Tucker, and Brady couldn’t live with himself if he just...stayed put. He tried to move, but Cecilia’s fingernails dug into his arm.
“Let him get captured, Brady,” she hissed as quietly as possible. “It’s half our plan anyway. We’ll save him after. We’ll—”
