Page 86 of Savage Rancher
He's dressed like he's heading to a business meeting in pressed slacks, a button-down shirt, and a leather jacket thatprobably costs more than my car. His expression is concerned and sympathetic.
Even in the predawn darkness, I can see it’s completely fake.
"Emma." He walks toward us, his hands visible, his posture open. "I saw the smoke from the ridge. I came as soon as I could."
Jake doesn't move or speak. Neither do Mason or Luke. They stand there, three operators forming a wall of lethal intent.
Cole stops walking.
Smart man.
"I'm so sorry," Cole continues, his voice smooth. "This is terrible. Your father's house. All his hard work. All those memories."
My throat tightens. My eyes burn, and it’s not from the smoke. I want to tell him I know he did this, that I know exactly what kind of monster he is.
But I don't, because Jake's hand is still on my arm, and I can feel the tension vibrating through him. He's holding himself back by sheer force of will. If I snap, so does he, and this ends in blood right here.
If Jake—and Mason and Luke—are going to protect me, I’m fucking well going to protect them too.
Putting my hand over Jake’s, I lift my chin. "The fire department's investigating. I’m confident they’ll get to the bottom of what happened here.”
I hear a huff of amusement from Luke, but when I glance at him, his expression is still implacable.
"Well, thank God no one was hurt." Cole's eyes sweep over the ruins, and there's something in his expression—satisfaction, maybe. Or calculation. "It's fortunate you weren't sleeping here. And your ranch hands, Jim and the others, are all accounted for, I hope?"
The question hangs in the air like the threat I know it to be. But it’s what he said just before it that holds my attention.
It's fortunate you weren't sleeping here.
He knew the house was empty. He knew I was at Blackthorn. He knew exactly when to strike. I look at his expression, and I can see the smugness of that knowledge under the lying pretense he’s shoveling at us on top.
How did he know where I was? Gossip? Was he following me?
Would he have done it if I were here?
Jake squeezes my arm. When he speaks, his voice is flat and cold. "Yeah, it’s really fortunate no one was hurt."
Cole's gaze shifts to Jake, and for just a second, I see something flicker in his eyes. Not fear—Cole Turner doesn't scare easily. But acknowledgment. Recognition of the threat standing in front of him.
"That's good," Cole says carefully. "That's really good. I'd hate to think—" He stops himself, shaking his head. "Well. No lives were lost. That's what matters."
I heard the words he didn’t say:this time. No lives were lostthis time. The implication is clear. Next time, there might be.
My hands curl into fists at my sides. Jake's grip on my arm tightens—a warning.
"It’s surprising the fire didn’t spread," Cole continues, gesturing vaguely toward the hills. "The flames were visible for miles."
“You saw it from your ranch?” I try to imagine that, but the trajectory doesn’t seem right. There’s a ridge between the Turner Ranch and Circle H.
“I was up on the north ridge when I saw the smoke,” he says. “When I’m home, I take advantage of being back in nature and go riding in the moonlight. The creek bed runs dry this time of year, until the snow melts, and makes for a nice loop.”
My breath catches.
That's the location my father marked in his notes. The boundary between Circle H and Turner land. The place where I saw all the semi tracks yesterday. If Cole was there tonight, maybe my timing was off? Maybe there’s something to find there?
I force my expression to stay neutral, but my mind is racing. He was there, on the ridge, watching. Maybe not just watching the fire—maybe watching his operation. Maybe checking to make sure everything was running smoothly while my house burned.
"That's quite a distance," Mason says quietly. It's the first time he's spoken, and his voice is like gravel. "To see smoke at night."
