Page 90 of Lawless Rivals

We ride out in silence for miles, putting everything behind us. My family. Her family.

And the war that’s coming.

Eventually, the old mobile home appears where the land flattens and the trees surround the rear as a windbreak. We use it for overnight stays during foaling season, extended checks on the boundary fences, or whenever we need a change of pace.

My last visit was a couple of weeks ago. However, Dane heads out most weekends because he’s fed up living in the main house with Ma.

It’s not much, but it’s far enough away that Crowley’s never seen it, and no one would venture out this far without supplies and a tent.

I bring Bran to a stop, swing my leg over his withers, and dismount first. Pulling the reins over his head, I lead him to the post at the side and tie him there.

Leaving her to stew in the saddle, I climb the metal steps, push the door open, and go in first. It smells musty, like a closed-in dampness that has settled into the curtains.

I hit the switch out of habit, and the place stays dark. Doesn’t surprise me.

Knowing there’s a torch in the drawer under the small counter, I find it, click it on, and set it upright so it lights up one half of the small space.

While I’m shrugging off my coat, Keira steps inside, her hair drenched and her eyes all over the only bed at the front, the one-ring gas stove in the middle and collapsible table at the other side.

I open a high-up cupboard, pull out a half-empty bottle of Scotch and unscrew the lid. Taking a mouthful, I enjoy the burn as I swallow and offer it to her.

“This is where I’m staying?” she asks, taking the bottle. “Out here with no electricity or heating?”

“The generator’s fucked.” I shrug. “Be thankful it’s dry.”

She stands by the door, working through it all. From the never-ending terrain that leads to nowhere, the pitch black and the risk she made trying to leave behind my back.

This is penance.

She takes a drink and wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. Outside, the wind comes off the hills and moves through the grass, howling in through the open door.

“Well, you’d better get going then.” She moves further inside and sits on the edge of the bed.

I let out a slow breath. “You don’t get the luxury of distance anymore.”

Keira glances at the open door as if she’s debating whether to face the unknown rather than be alone with me.

“I meant what I said back there,” she says before taking another drink. “Whatever happened between us is dead. I don’t want you anywhere near me ever again.”

I cut the space between us in half. My fingers slide around the neck of the bottle before I take it back.

Her mouth glistens from the Scotch as she stares up at me.

I pull the door shut and move back toward her, stopping just short of her knees. The wind cuts off and the booze burns when I take a longer drink.

Her tongue skates between her lips, and my grip tightens on the bottle.

Chapter 24

Keira

I should look away, but where the hell else can I look?

This place is the size of a shoebox.

Instead, I return his stare while I sit on the only bed and Saint stands there drinking from a bottle.

The scotch has warmed my belly after the long ride, but the burn of it sliding down my throat can’t kill the ache in my core.