Page 67 of Savage Rancher
I’m not losing him—to jail or a grave.
He lifts his head, frowning down at me. “What’s wrong?”
I blink back my fears. “Do you think Luke’s eaten all the bacon yet this morning?”
He brushes my hair back from my face. “That’s not what’s bothering you.”
“You’re right, but I need to mull over my thoughts before I share them,” I reply honestly. “Okay?”
He studies me, assessing me like I’m a dangerous situation he needs to get through. Finally, he nods, lowering his mouth to mine. “Okay,” he says before he kisses me.
But I know Jake, and I know I won’t have much time before he charges forward and handles things himself.
65
JAKE
The stables smell like hay and horse sweat and leather—clean, honest smells that ground me after the intensity of last night and this morning.
Fuck—if Emma hadn’t insisted on going to her place to get some work done, I’d still be in bed with her.
Mason's in the third stall, working with the bay mustang mare Emma gave us. She's a beauty—compact and muscular, with intelligent eyes and a coat the color of dark honey. Wild-born. Emma’s said she was her father's pride. Now she’s ours.
Mason moves slowly around her, one hand trailing along her flank, murmuring something too low for me to hear. The mare's ears flick toward him, tracking his movement, but she doesn't spook. Doesn't even shift her weight.
"She's settling," I observe from the stall door, leaning down to scratch the top of Shadow’s head, where he’s lying.
Mason glances at me, his dark eyes calm. "Smart bloodline. Emma's father knew what he was doing with these horses. Give her another week, she'll be ready for saddle work."
I lean against the doorframe, watching him work. Mason's always been the patient one—sniper discipline translated into everything he does. Luke and I operate on controlled aggression.Mason operates on absolute stillness until the moment demands action. “I knew you worked with horses growing up, but I didn’t know the extent.”
“Raised on a ranch that bred. Always wanted to do it myself.” He runs his hand down the mare's shoulder. “Emma okay?”
I shake my head. “She’s upset about Cole Turner, but she won’t admit it.”
The mare shifts, sensing the tension in Mason's body, but he gentles her with a touch. "Threat assessment?"
"Lethal. He's not backing off. He knows Eli's gone, and he's still pushing. That makes him either stupid or confident he's got leverage we don't know about."
"Or both," Luke says from behind me.
I turn. Luke's leaning against the stable wall, arms crossed, his usual easy California grin nowhere in sight. He's in operational mode—pale eyes sharp, body language loose but ready.
"How long have you been standing there?" I ask.
"Long enough." He pushes off the wall, moving into the stall. The mare eyes him warily, but Luke ignores her, focusing on me. "So we're eliminating Cole Turner."
It's not a question. "Yes."
"Timeline?"
"Soon.” I’d do it today if it were up to me, but Emma wouldn’t understand. “He'll escalate."
Mason finally turns from the mare, his expression unreadable. "Operational complexity is higher than Eli. Cole's intelligent, cautious. He won't make himself vulnerable the same way."
"I know." I've been running scenarios since Emma came home yesterday. "We'll need surveillance, pattern analysis, and probably a two-week window to identify his routine."
"Doable." Luke tips his head. "But before you launch the nuclear option, make your claim on Emma public."
