Page 113 of Branded Betrayal

“But why would he purposely want to sabotage his own job?” Colt asks.

“I don’t know.” Nash’s voice is tight. “But I know what I saw. Those men worked for Wilkerson. Which means . . .” He stops for a second. “Which means Wilkerson sent them. To the ranch. The night my parents died.”

The pieces are there, but they don’t quite fit. Why would Wilkerson attack his own operation? Unless—

“Something else was going on that night,” I say. “Something we don’t know about.”

Nash’s hands curl into fists. “And Wilkerson’s gonna tell me what. Right before I put a bullet in him.”

I glance at my father, still standing apart from us but close enough to hear. His face is white, and he won’t meet anyone’s eyes.

He knows something.

“Dad,” I say. “What aren’t you telling us?”

“Nothing. I don’t know what—”

“Bullshit.” Nash takes a step toward him. “Those were Wilkerson’s men at my ranch six years ago. Why would he send his own crew? What the fuck happened that night?”

Dad’s silence is answer enough.

“We’ll deal with this later,” I say. But I have a sinking feeling about what we’re going to find out. “Right now, Savannah’s in there, and we’re wasting time.”

“Be careful,” Nash says, his voice hard. “You don’t know what’s waiting for you beyond that door.”

But I do. I know exactly what’s waiting.

Wilkerson. And a whole lot of fucking answers about a night that destroyed everything.

Colt and Nash stand on either side of the door, out of sight as I step inside. Harsh fluorescent lights cast long shadows on the stained concrete floor. A small army of tattooed thugs in motorcycle cuts raise their guns, pointing them directly at me.

Like they were expecting me.

But how the fuck could they have known I was coming?

Wilkerson’s words grate against my brain.

“I have eyes and ears everywhere.”

Of course he’d have had me followed. He’s been tailing me for fucking years. Why stop now?

“Blaze, get out of here now. It’s a trap,” Savannah screams, wiggling around on the chair, her arms behind her back, legs locked against the chair legs.

Wilkerson slants her a look that can cut through bone. “If you don’t want that mouth taped up again, I suggest you keep it shut.”

“Fuck you,” she yells. “Blaze, get out now!”

“Let her go,” I say to Wilkerson. “This is between us.”

“From where I’m standing, I’d say she’s very much involved.” He gestures around the warehouse. “She’s the reason you’re here. The reason you couldn’t do your job. The reason you became useless to me.”

“She’s innocent,” I say, struggling to keep my voice even. “She has nothing to do with our business.”

Tyler Burgess emerges from the shadows with a roll of silver tape. My jaw drops as he uses a scalpel to cut a piece of it, then slaps it over her lips. Her muffled cries make my heart shudder and ache. “She has everything to do with it.”

“You motherfucking bastard,” I growl, my trigger finger itching to pull the trigger of the Glock stuffed in the back of my waistband. “You’re working for this asshole?”

Christ, I knew it. Knew I didn’t imagine the glimpse of batshit crazy in that guy.