Page 102 of Savage Rancher
My pulse doesn't change. My expression doesn't shift. But every muscle in my body coils tight.
"And here's the thing, Jake." Turner's smile widens. "I could have stopped her. My guys could have grabbed her and brought her to me. Hell, I could have handled it myself." He pauses, letting that sink in. "But I didn't."
Silence.
"I let her go," Cole continues, his tone almost conversational. "I saw her up there, camera in hand, and I made a choice.I let her ride away. Because I'm not a monster, Jake. I'm a businessman. I don't make enemies I don't have to."
"Get to the point," I say, my voice low.
"The point is, you owe me." Cole's eyes lock on mine. "I could have taken Emma. I could have made her disappear so that you’d never find her, never see her ever again. But I didn't. So now, you and I, we have an understanding."
"An understanding," I echo.
"Yeah." He nods. "You stay out of my business, I stay out of yours. You don't go running to the sheriff with whatever Emma photographed, and I don't revisit my decision to let her go."
There it is—the threat. Veiled. Polite. Unmistakable.
Impossible to refuse.
I take a slow sip of my coffee, letting the silence stretch. Then I carefully set the mug down on the side table. "You think you did me a favor," I say quietly.
"I know I did." Turner's smile doesn't waver.
I fold my arms, studying him. "You think letting Emma go means I owe you something."
"That's how it works, Jake. You're a smart man. You understand leverage."
I take a step closer. Not aggressive. Just closing the distance.
"Here's what I understand, Turner." My voice drops, cold and lethal. "If you put your hands on what's mine, you don't get credit for letting go. You get a bullet."
His smile falters—just for a second—and then it’s back, edged with anger.
"You think you're in control here," I continue, my gaze locked on his. "You think you can walk into my house, make veiled threats about Emma, and I'm going to play along. But you're wrong."
"Jake—"
"You don't touch her. You don't look at her. You don't think about her." I take another step, and now I'm close enough to see the flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. "Because if you do, I will end you. Not arrest you. Not report you.End you."
I can hear Turner's jaw creak, he’s gritting it so tight. "You're making a mistake."
"No." I smile, cold and empty. "You made the mistake. You came here thinking you had leverage, but all you did was sign your death certificate."
Turner stares at me for a long moment, his expression hardening. Then he steps back, his hands still in his pockets, his posture controlled.
"You're going to regret this," he says quietly.
"No," I reply. "You are."
He turns and walks to the door, his movements unhurried, like he's still in control. But I see the tension in his shoulders and the way his hand tightens on the door handle.
He leaves without another word.
I watch through the window as he gets into his SUV and drives away, the gate closing behind him.
Mason steps into the room, his expression unreadable.
"You hear that?" I ask.
