Page 68 of Crossfire Creek Vengeance

He did not even bother pretending otherwise. She would never sit safely at his ranch while he walked into something like that alone. Not after everything they had already survived.

Besides, after the shooting earlier, leaving her solo was a bad idea. A reckless one. If someone wanted to divide them, that would be the way to do it.

Separate them. Isolate one. Take the shot.

Divide and conquer.

Deacon grabbed his keys and took a steadying breath. Not a chance either of them was sitting this out. Whatever waited for them at that cemetery, he intended for both of them to walk in clear-eyed and armed.

They geared up fast and without talking, muscle memory taking over. Vests. Weapons. Radios checked. Deacon kept scanning the windows and the tree line outside, every sense stretched tight.

It was cold when they stepped out, the kind that bit through clothing. The night was pitch black, clouds choking out any hint of moonlight. No natural illumination. No shadows to read. It would be easy to walk or drive straight into an ambush out there.

He didn’t like that.

They moved fast toward his cruiser, spacing tight, gazes firing all around. He unlocked the cruiser, waited while Jessa got in, then slid behind the wheel and brought the engine to life. The dash lights were the only glow in a world that suddenly felt very small.

As soon as they were rolling, Deacon used the hands free and called Noah. “Noah, I need your help. Wynn’s at Whispering Pines Cemetery near Lawless Canyon, and he’s supposedly strapped with explosives. The local sheriff and deputies are on scene. Bomb squad en route. We’re heading that way now.”

“What do you need?” Noah was quick to ask.

“Drone support. I want eyes on Wynn and the perimeter. Full sweep.”

There was less than a minute pause before Noah replied. “Already launched. Two birds in the air. You’ll have visuals in under three minutes.”

Deacon let out a breath he was tired of holding. “Thanks,” he said. “Stay on comms.”

“Copy,” Noah replied.

Deacon focused back on the road as the headlights cut through the darkness. Whatever waited for them out there, they wouldn’t be going in blind.

Jessa’s phone rang a minute later. She glanced at the screen and didn’t hesitate before putting it on speaker. “Roman.”

His voice came through tight and urgent. “I just heard about Wynn. I’m on my way to Lawless Canyon.”

Deacon’s jaw clenched. “That’s not a good idea,” he couldn’t say fast enough. “If this is a setup, that could be exactly what whoever’s behind it wants. Get all of us in one place.”

“You think I’m going to sit this out?” Roman countered, and his tone could have won some kind of badass award if there was a competition for such things.

“No,” Deacon snapped. “I think it’s easier to kill three people standing together than one.”

Especially if Wynn really was wired. Especially if this ended in a detonation instead of cuffs.

“My ETA’s fifteen minutes,” was all Roman said, clearly ignoring everything Deacon had just spelled out.

“That’s about our ETA too,” Jessa let him know.

Deacon tightened his grip on the steering wheel. So much for spacing it out. So much for controlling the variables.

“Roman,” he tried again, “you see anything weird on your way in, you back off. You hear me.”

“I hear you,” Roman replied. And the badass tone managed to hike up another notch. “Doesn’t mean I’m turning around.”

The call ended.

Deacon stared straight ahead into the dark road stretching out in front of them. Three targets converging on the same place. A volatile suspect. Explosives. Unknown shooters still out in the wind.

This felt like someone tightening a noose.