Page 29 of Raven's Mark
Twenty years. Long enough to establish control, build relationships with the cartels, and perfect the art of making murder look like an accident. All the families who lost land during my father's reign, all the convenient deaths that nobody questioned because Sheriff Harlan said they were accidents.
"My father operated for decades," I say quietly. "He ran weapons, killed anyone who got in his way, and bought or threatened anyone who might talk. And Harlan was sheriff through all of it."
Raven goes still. "You think Harlan provided cover for Bo too."
"I think Harlan has been in that office long enough that nobody runs anything in this county without him knowing about it." The words come out hard, stripped of everything except certainty. "Or without his permission."
Raven's expression shifts into something colder and sharper, the federal agent underneath the woman on the run. "If Harlan has been providing cover for the cartel for two decades, we're not just looking at corruption. We're looking at organized crime infrastructure that runs through the sheriff's office itself."
"Which means taking him down requires more than evidence. It requires coordination with Carmichael's team and timing that doesn't leave us exposed." I push off the counter. "Have you sent what you found to your uncle?"
"Not yet. I wanted to talk to you first." She waits with the laptop. "This is your home, Jesse, just as it used to be mine. I won't do this without your agreement."
Raven could have sent everything to Carmichael without consulting me. She could have treated this like any other federal case and cut me out entirely. Instead, she's asking my permission to pursue a man who probably enabled my father's crimes for years.
"Send it." The words come out hard. "Carmichael needs to see the pattern. But we coordinate timing. I won't have Harlan spooked into running before we're ready to move."
"Agreed. Sending it now." Raven sends the files, closes her laptop, stands, and the kitchen suddenly feels smaller.
My phone vibrates. Carmichael's name appears on the screen, and I answer. "Talk to me."
"Intel just came across my desk." Carmichael’s voice is tight and clipped. "The cartel brought someone over from El Paso two days ago. Someone who knows Raven's face."
Ice slides down my spine. "ATF?"
"Don't know yet. Could be law enforcement, could be someone from her old life. But they're not using the driver's license photo anymore. They've got someone with firsthand knowledge."
I glance at Raven. She's watching me, reading my expression, and her posture shifts into something more alert. "How long before they connect her to Sarah Davis?"
"Hard to say. Depends on how wide they cast the net." Carmichael pauses. "They're moving faster than I anticipated, Jesse. Whatever timeline you had, cut it in half."
"Understood. Take a look at what Raven sent to you and keep me updated."
"Always." The line goes dead.
I pocket the phone and meet Raven's gaze. "The cartel brought someone from El Paso who knows your face. Sarah Davis has an expiration date."
Raven doesn't flinch. She processes the information with the same cold efficiency she'd use for any tactical update. "How long do we have?"
"Carmichael says to cut our timeline in half."
"Then we move faster too." Raven crosses to the window and looks out at the hills beyond. "Uncle Robert's team needs to accelerate. If the cartel identifies me here, this cabin becomes a death trap."
"They won't get that far." I don't hedge and I don't soften it. "Knox and I marked their surveillance positions today. We know where they're watching from. If they move on this property, we'll see them coming."
Raven turns from the window, and the look on her face is one I recognize. It is the expression of someone who has spent too long running and not enough time standing their ground. "You can't promise that."
"Yes, I can." I close the distance between us, and this time I don't stop. "I've been at war for you since the night I put you on that plane. That hasn't changed, and it never will."
Her breath catches. The tactical mask she wears so well slips, and something raw shows through. "Why?"
"Why what?"
"Why come back here at all?" Raven's voice drops, and the question sounds like it's been building for longer than this conversation. "After Shadowland, you could have gone anywhere. Started over somewhere the Hollister name doesn't carry baggage. But you came back to Fredericksburg. Why?"
The question hangs between us. I could deflect or give her the easy answer about family and legacy and the ranch. But we're past easy answers, and she deserves better than another lie of omission.
"Because I was waiting for you." The admission comes out quiet, stripped of everything except truth.
