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“Then she’s in.”
“But should she be?”
“Don’t do this to yourself right now. Doubt.”
No doubt. Never about Delilah.
It’s about the danger that’s all around us. Tempest. Our dangerous side hustle. The past. The Westons are a target in town. My moral compass is gray at best, but I never want Delilah’s light to dim. My dark shadows can’t touch her.
“You’ve run too long, Cole. Let life in.” Warren shakes his head. He adjusts his cuffs. Always immaculately dressed, even for a lawless gun run. “You can’t control everything. You can’t stop the bad.”
“Another year of this,” I concede. “Once it’s over, we’re out.” Then there’ll be nothing to put our family, Delilah, in danger. Until then, it’s up to me to shield her the best I can.
He arches a disbelieving brow. “You going to wait that long to marry her?”
“Not a goddamn chance.”
“When are you asking her?”
“As soon as I can. I wish I had Mom’s ring.” The cops never returned it after her death.
Warren opens his mouth, but I lift a hand, cutting him off.
The rumble of motorcycles fills the air. Syd and his crew zip past. Which means our truck isn’t far behind.
Adrenaline surges in my blood. Jack’s voice is there, coaching me through it, just like he would before one of my rides. Settle in, make your face mean, and nod your head, Cole. Leave it all on the line to make that eight-second whistle.
Eight seconds.
Eight fucking seconds on that bull.
It always felt like a lifetime to me.
I stiffen, watching as the truck bearing our Weston Whiskey logo merges onto the highway that leads out of Tempest. In a flash, the truck’s gone, taillights winking in the dark as it blends with the oncoming rush of late-night traffic.
Foot on the gas, ready to gun the engine and barricade the road, I glance in the rearview mirror, waiting for the telltale sign of red and blue flashing lights.
Nothing.
The road is dark. The guns are gone.
Warren blows out a breath, then reaches beneath the seat to pull out his flask. He takes a sip before passing it to me.
After taking a long pull, I lift my phone to my ear, dialing Ezra and River, who are parked five miles down the road. “We’re good,” I tell Ezra, who’s picked up on the first ring. “The truck’s all clear. Meet you back at the ranch.”
I hang up at the exact same second another phone chimes.
“That you?” Warren pats his pockets.
I check my phone. “No.”
Another chime. My gaze lights on the glove box.
I reach over and open it.
The burner phone. Dino’s phone.
Fuck, I forgot it was in here. But I know I powered that damn phone down.
