It's subtle—a change in the air, maybe, or the way Emma's head tilts slightly toward the window. Then I hear it: the low hum of an engine coming up the drive.
"Who could that be?” she asks. “It doesn’t sound like Lily’s car."
I get up and move to the window, careful to stay out of direct line of sight, just in case.
Through the glass, I see movement at the stable. The doors fly open and three figures emerge—Jake, Mason, and Luke—moving with the kind of tactical precision that makes my cop instincts go giddy. They're not running, but they're fast. Purposeful. Luke's hand hovers near his hip. Mason's scanning the perimeter. Jake's already positioning himself between the stable and the main house.
"What's happening?" Emma asks. Her chair makes a sound, like she’s getting up.
"I don’t know." I move toward the front door, my body automatically shifting into a protective stance. My hand goes to my hip where my service weapon should be—except I'm not wearing it anymore. I'm not a deputy anymore, not technically.
But I'm still a protector. “Stay behind me, Emma.”
Emma follows me to the front door, well behind me, like I instructed. I open the front door and peek out.
The men have already formed a line—Jake in the center, Mason to his left, Luke to his right. A barrier as a black truck pulls up to the house.
It’s expensive and polished, the kind of vehicle that screams money and power. The engine cuts, and Cole Turner steps out.
My entire body goes rigid.
He's wearing a tailored suit, charcoal gray and perfectly pressed. His hair is styled, and his smile easy and confident. He looks like a businessman—a politician. Someone you'd trust with your vote.
Not a trafficker. Not a predator. Not the man who spent five years corrupting my father.
I grip the doorframe. But I know exactly what he is.
"Harper," Luke says quietly, his voice carrying a warning without turning his head.
How the hell does he know that I’m on the verge of jumping off this porch and wiping that smug smile off the bastard’s face? Annoying. Scowling, I relax my stance and force myself to breathe.
Emma's hand touches my lower back, trying to calm me.
Taking another breath, I step slightly in front of her, angling my body to shield hers. No fucking way am I letting my friend down after the way my dad failed hers.
Cole Turner approaches the porch with easy confidence, stopping at the bottom step. The three men blocking his path make it clear he's not welcome any closer.
"Jake Callahan." Turner's smile is warm and genuine, like they're old friends. "Hope I'm not intruding."
"You are," Jake says evenly.
Turner chuckles, the sound easy and disarming. But I catch the tiny tightening around his eyes and the way his gaze flicks to the men flanking Jake and recalibrates, like he’s remembering who Jake Callahan is.
Most men would piss themselves if Jake looked at them that way. Turner just reaches into his pocket—slowly, of course—and pulls out several small red pins. "I brought you something."
He holds them up like he's offering frankincense. I have to strain to figure out what they are. Campaign pins that sayTURNER FOR GOVERNOR.
Turner smiles. "Figured you might want to get on board early. I'm building something here, Jake. Something bigger than Iron Ridge. Bigger than Montana, even."
"Not interested," Jake says flatly.
"Hear me out." Turner's smile doesn't falter. His eyes sweep across the three men, assessing and calculating. "You're smart guys. You know how the world works. You do what needs to be done to protect what's yours. I respect that. Hell, I admire it. You've seen how things really operate. Systems fail. Bureaucracy gets in the way. Sometimes you have to step outside the lines to get the job done."
My jaw clenches so hard it hurts. I'm exhausted—I barely slept after confronting my father, after Luke held me together while I pulled it together again. And now this man, this predator who baited my father, stands here acting like he's offering legitimate business opportunities.
"We're not so different, you and me," he continues, his tone conversational. "We both understand that survival isn't about playing by the rules. It's about making the hard calls."
"We're nothing like you," Luke says, his voice low and dangerous.