Page 62 of Crossfire Creek Vengeance

Jessa paced the living room, her phone pressed to her ear, and she was speaking in a low, tight voice. She was talking to Roman again. She never stopped moving when she was on the phone. As if standing still might let the weight of everything crash down on her.

“Yes,” she said. “I know. I’m not leaving here tonight. We’ll talk in the morning.” She paused, listening, then added, “I promise.”

Deacon didn’t miss the lie. Or maybe not a lie. Maybe a half-truth. Jessa always sounded like that when she was trying to keep Roman from worrying while doing exactly what she planned to do anyway.

He stood at the front window as the last CSI truck rolled down the drive. The sky had darkened to that deep blue that came just before night settled in. Headlights disappeared between the trees. The property was his again, but it didn’t feel like it.

Not yet.

He waited until the dust settled. Then he checked the monitor one last time and reset the perimeter security. Locked. Armed. Safe.

For now.

The case was still wide open. Wynn was still out there. Corbin was still a question mark. And today had added two bodies to an already bloody trail.

Jessa murmured something else to her brother, something he didn’t catch, but he sure as heck heard her heavy sigh. She looked as exhausted as he felt, dark circles under her eyes, tension etched into every line of her body. But exhaustion was only half of it. Beneath that, she was wired. Sharp. Pissed off.

He understood that feeling all too well.

Someone had brought violence straight to his home. Someone had stood on his land and opened fire without a second thought. That crossed lines that couldn’t be uncrossed.

What still floored him was how close it all had come. Too close.

It was a miracle Jessa was standing there unhurt. That Noah and Roman had walked away without a bullet in them. That he was still breathing. That the horses were untouched, restless but safe in the pasture. That Ranger had not taken off after the gunman and paid for it.

They were all still in one piece.

That didn’t feel like luck. It felt like borrowed time. And whoever had tried to take it from them was going to pay.

Jessa ended the call and lowered her phone. “Roman hasn’t been able to find Wynn.”

Deacon nodded, not surprised. Wynn knew how to disappear. “I’m fine with Roman putting a team on it,” he let her know. “I’ve got deputies out looking too. If we find Wynn, we’re arresting him.”

He didn’t bother hiding the frustration that followed. The problem was the rest of them.

Shade and Corbin.

Both of them had motive. Both had plenty of opportunity. Both were neck deep in lies and half-truths. And yet none of it was enough. Not the kind of evidence that would stick.

If he could have hauled all of them in and locked them up, he would have done it without hesitation. Get every suspect off the street and stop the damage before someone else ended up dead.

Instead, they were chasing shadows. And those shadows were dangerous.

He crossed the room and pulled Jessa into his arms. She came willingly, pressing close as if she needed the contact as much as he did.

“How bad are you hurting?” she asked, her voice low.

“It’s more of a dull throb now,” he said honestly. “Not too bad. The over-the-counter stuff helped.”

He didn’t add that holding her helped more. He didn’t have to. She felt it anyway, her body molding to his, grounding him.

For a few quiet seconds, it was just them. Breathing. Existing. Letting the day crack a little around the edges.

His phone buzzed. He sighed but reached for it, keeping one arm around her as he checked the message.

“They’ve got IDs on both gunmen,” he let her know.

Jessa pulled back just enough to look up at him. “Who?”