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A hand snakes out and squeezes mine firmly. “Baby, you’re doing it.”
I adjust the cameras as much as I’m able. The two that could catch public movement and can view the stables or the homes are grainy when zoomed in from that far away. Better than nothing. This takes long enough that I note the ambulance leaving Brax’s house and making for the ranch gates. Someone needs to tell me what the hell is going on.
I tap out a text to him.
Me: Elias got him safely here.
Braxton: Any luck?
Me: Alive, if that’s what you mean. If you mean thermal, I’m working on it.
Me: Never expected to use it on humans. The cameras are in all the wrong spots. I’ll keep you posted.
Braxton: Protect my boy.
Me: With my life.
Braxton: Don’t let it go that far.
Me: Love you too.
I turn to Eli who is cool under pressure.
His eyes scan the monitor as if looking for clues. “Do you need to send the ranch hands home for the day?”
“Why would I?” I’m confused by his question. “I can only guess since you’ve said nothing, but a threat is possible, not imminent. Right?”
He looks at me, face soft, but his eyes close like he’s formulating a response. When they open, he levels me.
“I met with the Sheriff and two of his deputies this morning, as well as Braxton, Emberleigh and Kimp.”
“I—”
He holds up a hand and continues, “Brax received photos this morning… Pictures taken of the ranch, the grounds, the goings-on, and pictures on the property. There were pictures of Colt, pictures of…”—his Adam’s apple bobs as his hands clench and unclench—“pictures of you, Bright. Whatever is going on, whoever is threatening Colt and your brother, they’re close. This hasn’t just begun, and it isn’t friendly. They’re not doing it for attention.”
“But my family—” I can’t finish the thought.
He holds my eyes, as he continues, “Your family is under attack, if not physically, then psychologically. From what I’ve seen, this isn’t an amateur. If I were a betting man, I’d expect a coordinated attack, one from someone who doesn’t expect to lose.”
He reaches to pull me into a hug, but I shake my head, my hair flying wildly around me.
Energy pulses in my blood.
“So that ambulance?”
“I don’t know. But the FedEx truck outside Brax’s house hasn’t moved in an hour. And the ambulance has.”
I don’t put things together as fast as he does. “Is someone here under the guise of delivery and holding Brax?”
“It’s possible.”
Sliding my cell out of my pocket, I text Pop.
Me: You safe? What’s going on?
Pop: Fine, darling girl. Trust Eli. I love you.
A chill runs down my spine. Pop makes no bones about loving his family. He displays it day after day, week after week, year after year. His family is everything, and the world knows it. But he’s not one to text it much, so each time is significant.
