Master of Solitude (Mountain Masters & Dark Haven Book 8)

by Cherise Sinclair

  He was so…

  Her mouth firmed. Neither of them had enjoyed fast or slow sex…because he’d left during the night. Not a good start to a Saturday, and it had gotten worse.

  All morning, she’d worked on the bathroom add-on in Nancy Jenkins’s little house. An hour ago, the elderly widow had run into town for groceries…and returned to regale Mallory with all the latest news: the gas station break-in, the gunfight, and Roger Simmons’s assertion of Sawyer’s involvement.

  No way would Sawyer have robbed Simmons Gas. On the other hand, he sure might have been there. Might have died there.

  The fear curling in her chest made her breath come short. Made her even angrier.

  Turning off the road onto Whiskey Creek Lane, she drove past Atticus’s house and slowed at Sawyer’s property. His pickup was parked by his house. All right, then. Pulling into the drive, she tried to tamp down her anger. Unsuccessfully.

  As Achilles charged out of the stable, Mallory shut off the engine and jumped out, avoiding the puddles from last night’s rain. “Hey, baby.”

  The puppy acted as if he hadn’t seen her for weeks as he spun in circles around her, licking her hands, and collecting pats.

  A muscular arm closed around Mallory’s waist, turned her, and she was flattened up against Sawyer’s solid body.

  She planted a hand on his chest. “Sawy—”

  He yanked her to her tiptoes and took her lips in a rough, demanding kiss. When her arms went around his neck—oh, she couldn’t help herself—he pulled her closer, kissing her as if they’d been separated for years.

  When he lifted his head, she couldn’t remember what she’d started to say.

  His cheek creased. “I missed you. But did you come out for a reason?” His black cowboy hat shadowed his features. Unusually, he hadn’t shaved, and the dark stubble gave him an edgy, dangerous look.

  “Ah…” Her brain clicked back on, and she glared at him. “You.”

  “Me, what?” He tilted his head, looking at her as if she’d lost the last tool in her toolbox.

  “You didn’t leave me this morning—you left in the middle of the night. And went to town.”

  His brows pulled together. “Listen, Mallory…”

  “Were you at the gas station doing some…some vigilante thing?”

  “I thought you didn’t have a problem with me acting against the gang.”

  Her head felt as if it would explode. “You said if you saw someone doing something illegal you had to intervene. Witnessing something isn’t the same as going looking for trouble.”

  The hard expression on his face said going looking was exactly what he’d done. “Mallory, I—”

  “Sawyer, how did you know someone was breaking into Simmons Gas?”

  He stiffened. “You don’t need to know how.”

  “I don’t?”

  His jaw tightened. His aura was dark with unhappiness, and there were murky colors she couldn’t interpret at all. “Mallory—”

  “You were out there all alone, and you didn’t have a”—she searched for the word—“a backup, did you?”

  Sorrow streaked like black lightning through his aura. “No. I don’t have a team anymore.”

  She didn’t approve, yet she couldn’t let him walk into danger alone. “Let me—”

  “No.” His grip on her upper arms tightened, and he gave her a shake. “Never. This isn’t in your skill set. Isn’t anything you want to do. You will stay the fuck away from this gang.”

  “All right. But Sawyer, talk to me.”

  “No.”

  His answer was like a blow.

  “I see.”

  “Mallory, there are more gang members in town, more than there were before. They’re extremely violent. I want you far, far away from them. I don’t want you going anywhere alone.”

  His gaze was focused, his worry obvious.

  “All right.” No, it wasn’t all right. However, this wasn’t the time to argue. She needed to cool off and take the time to think. They’d discuss it all tonight and arrive at something. A compromise and a way to keep him safe. She sighed. “I need to get back to work.”

  He leaned down and kissed her cheek. “Of course. Remember, nymph, be very careful.”

  She kissed him lightly and drove back to town, her heart aching.

  *

  Scowling, Sawyer continued fixing the stalls, since, hell, there was nothing else he could do.

  Before this, he’d considered himself an open, honest person, and even so, he’d evaded her questions. Shut her down. Closed himself off from the woman he loved.

  Realizing he was stripping the screw head on the gate latch, he tossed the screwdriver in the toolbox.

  She was hurt at his silence. Nevertheless, telling her everything would be wrong. His mouth firmed. He’d done the research earlier. If she knew for a fact he was breaking the law—and face it, infringing on the gang members’ privacy was the least of his crimes—if she knew and didn’t turn him in, she could be culpable.

  It would be best if she could honestly say she didn’t know anything.

  In addition, if the gang found out how much he cared for her, they’d go after her. Which meant he needed to stay away from her. He kicked the toolbox lid shut. Doing the right thing made him feel like shit.

  In the adjacent stall, Achilles yawned and looked at Sawyer. Then he tilted his head and scrambled to his feet.

  A second later, Sawyer heard the hum of a vehicle. “Okay, tough guy. Let’s go see who it is.” His heart lifted. Had the nymph returned?

  He yanked the leash from his pocket and clipped it to the pup’s collar. “Let’s work on those manners, while we’re at it. Heel.” Keeping Achilles in position, he walked out of the stable.

  His momentary lift of spirits slid right back downhill.

  The Chevy Tahoe was Atticus’s unmarked vehicle—and from his brother’s expression, he was in a piss-poor mood.

  One guess why.

  As if from guilt, Sawyer’s hip and arm wounds started to burn. Wasn’t that fucked up? No longer in the mood for training, Sawyer unclipped the dog’s leash.

  The pup charged forward.

  Atticus bent and ruffled his head. “Look how you’ve grown.”

  The puppy’s short tail wagged furiously.

  Sawyer shoved his hands in his jeans pockets. Might as well get this over with, so he could go take more ibuprofen and suck down another cup of coffee. “What brings you out here, bro?”

  Atticus sent him a hard stare. “You know what.”

  “Because Masterson woke me up wanting to know if I’d shot up the Aryan Hammers last night?” To hide everything else, Sawyer let his anger show. His cop brother could read a suspect faster than most people read a newspaper. “You know fucking well I don’t own any weapons.”

  “Are you saying you weren’t there?”

  Sawyer scowled. “Sure, I was. I woke up in the middle of the night and decided to check out the gas station—because me and Simmons are such good buddies. Seriously?”

  “Goddammit.” Atticus looked pissed enough to chew bullets. “Yeah, you were there. Jesus, Sawyer, you barely got your ass out of jail, and now you’re pushing to get locked up again.”

  “Getting arrested is the last thing I want.” Sawyer pulled in a breath. Pissed off or not, Att needed to know he had more trouble on his hands. “Att…forget about the station and listen. I don’t know if you noticed, but the Aryan Hammers brought in reinforcements. I figure there are at least ten members here in town now. Well-armed.”

  “From the noise and shells, we figured there were more. At least ten? Hell.” Att sighed. “Bro, I know you were a SEAL and can walk on water; however, this job belongs to the police force. Stop now, before it goes too far.” His voice rose. “Are you hearing me, dammit?”

  The pup’s tail went under his belly, and he backed away.

  Att’s anger hit Sawyer like a blow, compressing his ribcage. He kept his voice even. “I hear you.”


  “Good.” Att spun on his heel and got back in his SUV. The tires spat mud as he left.

  Morgan Masterson had heard all the yelling even before he came through the pasture gate. As he walked around the stable, he saw Atticus Ware’s SUV roaring down the lane.

  Now what?

  Sawyer’s shoulders were slumped. He stood in place, staring after his brother.

  Well, hell. Morgan knew all about how battling a sibling felt. He cleared his throat. “That sure sounded like the fighting me and my brothers do.”

  Ware spun, saw him, and his blue eyes turned cold. “What’re you doing here?”

  More welcoming by far, the puppy dashed forward, all dark eyes and wagging tail. Morgan crouched to pet the little mite. Maybe it was time to get a dog. Fuck knew, the house felt damn empty these days. “Hey, mutt. He got a name?”

  “Achilles.” Anger visibly draining, Ware scrubbed his face. “Sorry. Been a hell of a morning.”

  Morgan snorted. “Been a hell of a night, too, from what I hear.”

  “Yeah? What’d you hear?”

  “Simmons insists you were with the gangbangers who busted into his gas station.” In fact, Roger had been frothing at the mouth and would’ve rounded up a lynch party if Virgil hadn’t shut him down.

  “I heard. Did the cops catch anyone?”

  Morgan gave the dog a final pat and rose. “Got two of the Aryan Hammers. One has a busted leg…and insists he tripped while out walking. He doesn’t know anything about how the gas station door was kicked open.”

  “Of course not.”

  “The other has a concussion.”

  Ware’s lack of reaction was telling.

  Morgan nodded to himself. Virgil had shared that a can of peaches had been lying nearby—and the dent in the asshole’s head had matched the can’s rim.

  The SEAL had taken out a bad guy with peaches.

  Chuckling, Morgan said, “I don’t know if Atticus ever shared, but using veggies for weapons is a time-honored Bear Flat tradition. Gin and Summer held off some assholes with canned goods last summer.”

  “Did they now?” Sawyer snorted. “I’ll have to feed Red some wine and get the story.”

  Smooth. The man wasn’t admitting to shit. Morgan grinned in appreciation. “I figured it was you who derailed the robbery last night. Nice job.”

  Ware’s expression shut down. “You came by to share the gossip?”

  “No, I walked down to let you know I was back and to thank you for tending the horses. They look great. Virg was impressed, too.” Ware had done a damn fine job. The horses’ coats gleamed, and the stable was impressively clean. He’d even conditioned the tack. “We owe you.”

  “Nah. I enjoyed it.”

  “The other reason I came…” Morgan stroked his mustache and considered. This was bad timing, right after Atticus had reamed his bro a new one. Nevertheless, the SEAL needed to know he had backup. “If you need someone to cover your back while you’re…playing with canned goods, call me.”

  Ware looked surprised, and then something in his face relaxed. As if it was a relief to know he wasn’t alone.

  These days, Morgan knew the feeling too well. So he ventured farther down the trail he was carving out. “The Hunts have a rifle range out back of Serenity Lodge. I’m heading up there to get in some practice. Want to join me?”

  “I don’t own firearms.”

  “So Virg said. I have plenty, from a classic Marlin to an old Mauser.” He grinned. “My latest baby is a GA Precision Gladius.”

  Ware’s eyes lit. “Snipers have a fondness for that.”

  Yeah, Ware knew his weaponry. “If you have a need for backup—or equipment—in the future, you come to me. This is my town, too,” he said. “Meanwhile, let’s go do some shooting for fun.” He held out his hand.

  After a long moment, Ware shook his hand. “You’re on.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  ‡

  Early Sunday evening, Mallory walked down the boardwalk in Bear Flat. Although she needed groceries, she’d procrastinated leaving. Not wanting to see anyone.

  Because Sawyer wasn’t talking to her.

  Her chest hurt, as if something she’d swallowed had stuck partway to her stomach, making an uncomfortable lump beneath her ribs. Had she been foolish in thinking she and Sawyer had something special?

  Since Dark Haven, they’d slept together every night…until last night. Last night, he’d called before she’d left work to say he and Morgan were having a Saturday night out. He’d sleep at his own house…and maybe catch her today. Even though he’d called from Morgan’s house, the distance between them had felt more like a continent than a few acres.

  She took a slow breath of the chilled air. Although she was pleased he and Morgan had found some common ground, Sawyer hadn’t called her at all today.

  “Hey, Mallory!”

  Mallory turned.

  With her husband, Jake, beside her, Kallie came down the boardwalk. Her short black hair was tousled, and her smile was wide. Barney, a giant logger who’d been a schoolmate, followed her. Kallie insisted the man was related to the purple dinosaur.

  Mallory gave Barney a warm smile and turned to the other two. “Did you have a good vacation?”

  “It was great.” Kallie frowned. “At least until we came back to all the stuff happening here. When did we turn into a crime-ridden city rather than a little mountain town?”

  “I know what you mean,” Mallory said.

  Barney frowned, his gaze on someone across the street. “We know where the problem comes from. From people like that guy.”

  Mallory glanced over.

  Sawyer was in front of the Bärchen Bakery, talking with Morgan.

  Sawyer. In a black cowboy hat. His denim jacket made him look even more muscular. How could she feel as if her heart was being stabbed, even as it did a there’s-my-man happy dance?

  Morgan looked over and saw everyone, slapped Sawyer’s shoulder, and crossed the street. Jumping up on the boardwalk, he greeted Jake, “Hey, cousin-in-law. Welcome home.”

  Jake grinned. “Good to be back.”

  Morgan smiled at Mallory. “Sorry if I messed up your plans with Sawyer last night.”

  Puffing up his massive chest, Barney glowered. “Sawyer Ware’s a convict. Mallory wouldn’t have anything to do with him.”

  Oh, honestly. “Sawyer is—”

  Interrupting, Morgan snapped out, “That guy is Captain Ware, who spent a decade serving a country that did shit to help him when he got out. He fell asleep at the wheel after two whole drinks, and his best friend died. Yeah, he fucked up. And he paid for it. Jesus, he paid for it.”

  Barney blinked, then looked shocked. “I didn’t know.”

  “Yeah, neither did I, until he took on a gang to save old Verne’s ass. I started asking questions. Talked to his brother. And Gin, too.”

  Mallory smiled. Morgan was the youngest Masterson brother and usually let others lead; however, no one—even Wyatt—could budge him once he’d decided something was right. “Did Sawyer do well with your horses?” She couldn’t imagine any different.

  Barney sputtered. “You let him near your horses?”

  “Yeah, Barney.” Morgan’s tone hardened. “I had a fishing group to guide. Wyatt’s in Africa. Kallie took off on vacation. Who was supposed to look after our stock?”

  Kallie frowned. “But, Morgan, Virgil was planning to—”

  “Virgil’s a cop and working his ass off. Have you even looked at him recently?”

  “Oh. Oh, no.” Appalled, Kallie put her hand on his arm. “Jake and I wouldn’t have left if—”

  “No blame, cuz.” Morgan patted her hand. “Atticus is putting in as many hours as Virg, so I didn’t ask him, but he said Sawyer’s even better with horses than he is.”

  “Really?” Kallie turned a speculative gaze toward Sawyer. “Wouldn’t it be nice…”

  “I had him over to see how he did.” Morgan grinned. “Atticus is righ
t—the guy’s got a gift. Even dumbass Dodger acted like Ware was cubed sugar.”

  “This afternoon, I noticed how clean the barn was,” Kallie said. “And the horses are super mellow, like they’d all been exercised recently. How much did he charge us?”

  “Nothing. Said he appreciated the way we’d kept up the fences between our pastures.” Morgan snorted.

  Mallory nodded. Yes, that sounded like Sawyer.

  “How nice of him.” Kallie looked at Sawyer and nodded slowly. “He’ll be a good neighbor. I know Mallory thinks he’s okay.”

  “He’s a good man.” Mallory managed to smile. She so didn’t want to talk about Sawyer—not when her heart was already aching. “Gotta go—I need to talk to Mrs. Reed.”

  Popping into the pottery shop, she chatted with Mrs. Reed and put in an order, hoping to help make up for the glassware the older woman had lost. Once back on the boardwalk, she headed toward the grocery store.

  “Mallory.”

  At the sound of her name, she stopped.

  “Hey, little bit.” Virgil walked up and put an arm around her shoulders. “Have you seen my woman?”

  Mallory leaned her head against his hard bulk. Why couldn’t her mama have given her a couple of brothers? Or cousins. “Nope. She’s probably found herself a puppy or baby to cuddle.

  Virgil’s smile was tender. “Probably.” The way Sunny adored babies of any kind, the couple wouldn’t wait too long before starting their own brood.

  The thought set up a yearning inside Mallory, which she shook off with difficulty. “Be careful. Lisa and Bart’s cat had a late litter of kittens.”

  “God help me, I’m not up to kitten antics. Not these days.”

  Mallory frowned. Virgil’s face was drawn; dark circles ringed his eyes. “You look exhausted.”

  “Been a long month.” His hazel eyes were unhappy. “The neo-Nazi bunch—the Aryan Hammers—were already escalating, and now they have more people.”

  “What’s there to escalate? Bear Flat isn’t that big.”