Master of Solitude (Mountain Masters & Dark Haven Book 8) Page 18

  When it came right down to it, he liked brats. Cute ones. Like the one he held in his arms. He whispered back, “My nymph, I didn’t think you liked being spanked. Or did you…”

  She only giggled at his threat.

  I’m so screwed.

  Chapter Fifteen

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  Tuesday afternoon, Sawyer worked on replacing the stalls in his stable. It was November first, and autumn had flown by.

  With a patter of paws, Achilles raced through the open door of the stable and dropped a stick at Sawyer’s feet.

  “Naptime is over, huh?”

  Yesterday and today at Masterson’s spread, the pup had worked his fuzzy butt off trying to herd his person, the cattle, and the horses, while Sawyer tended the stock. It was good the dog wanted to help. Nonetheless, all that enthusiasm was exhausting to watch.

  Grinning, Sawyer threw the stick back out the open door.

  Achilles raced after it, not quite tripping. The pup was growing fast—and experiencing all the clumsiness that came with having paws too big for his legs.

  Sawyer knew the feeling. As a kid, he’d stumbled over his own boots often enough that his stepfather, Reuben, had labeled him clumsy as well as worthless. At least Sawyer’s reputation for being uncoordinated meant Reuben never realized how often Sawyer knocked over shit to divert punishment from Hector.

  A drunken asshole, Reuben hadn’t been the brightest bulb in the chandelier. He’d hated—and respected—sociable, athletic Atticus. He’d sure never understood Sawyer’s liking for solitude and horses.

  Made for an interesting childhood. After experiencing Reuben’s fists as a kid, he’d found the SEAL’s SERE—survival, evasion, resistance, and escape—training less of a challenge than he’d anticipated.

  Achilles trotted back with the stick, tail raised proudly. Sawyer threw it again, and another chase ensued.

  Needing a break, Sawyer headed for his cabin. Time for more coffee. Last night, after leaving Mallory warm and sated in her bed, he’d spent an hour sliding under each Aryan Hammer vehicle to attach the GPS tracking devices he’d gotten from Simon. If the gang used their cars, he’d know when they left at night.

  All data was sent to his phone, which would sound an alarm when a notification came in. With the monitoring in place, maybe he could catch up on sleep…and have more time with Mallory. In bed. Jesus, the little sounds she made right before she climaxed were enough to drive him crazy. When finished, he wanted to start right back up again.

  This morning, he’d wakened first and watched her sleep. Watched her slowly rouse. When she saw him, her eyes had warmed, and she’d smiled. Yeah, his heart had fucking turned over in his chest. She really did love him.

  She deserved someone better than him.

  But…she wanted him, and he’d given up on talking her out of her foolish choice, because, fuck, he wanted her just as much. Being with her was like finding summer after an eternity of winter storms.

  Hell, just thinking about her made him hard. He stopped in the middle of the yard and arranged himself.

  Although his mission wasn’t over and he shouldn’t allow himself to be distracted, the endgame was approaching. Not many Hammers remained in Bear Flat. When their decreasing numbers reached a certain point, they couldn’t afford to stay.

  Once the gang left town, Sawyer could live a normal life. Run his outfitting service. Raise and train horses. Help Mallory with her garden. Teach Achilles to be a good cattle dog. He could be a part of this town, and with Mallory beside him and Att at his back, there was nothing he wouldn’t take on.

  Yeah.

  His cell rang, and he yanked it out. “Hey, Hector. What’s up?”

  “Bought my land, bro. I got the place I wanted at the price I wanted.”

  “The one at the foot of the mountains?” Sawyer visualized the spread he and Hector had looked at. A partially wooded perimeter surrounded wide pastures. Solid outbuildings—a barn and two stables. Two-story farmhouse.

  There was enough land Sawyer could pasture his stock there in the winter, and during the driest summer months, Hector could bring his horses here, where there would still be grass.

  “Put a hell of a dent in my share of the ranch proceeds,” Hector said. “That hurt some.”

  “I know the feeling.” Sawyer grinned. As co-owners of the Idaho ranch, the three of them split the profit, although Hector received an additional ranch manager salary. The sale had netted them a good chunk, and since Sawyer had always lived on base, he’d already had a fair amount of savings.

  But what with buying land and needing to purchase trail stock, brood mares, yearlings, and tack for the business, he sure wouldn’t be rich—although he had enough to survive on until the outfitting business turned a profit. “Once the snows set in here, I’ll come down and help you get your place set up.”

  “Sounds good. I’ve missed having you and Att close.”

  “Yeah, me, too.” He looked forward to introducing Mallory to Hector. “What’ll you do now?”

  “I’ll be in Idaho until the stock I’m keeping is moved. Once that’s done, I’m taking the first vacation I’ve had in years. Someplace tropical. I’ll learn to scuba dive. And get to stare at mostly naked women.”

  Sawyer grinned. Sometimes he forgot his little brother was a full-grown man. Jesus, Hector was over thirty. “Knock yourself out, bro.”

  Meantime, he had a stable to fix, Masterson stock to tend, a wonderful woman to pamper, and a gang to run out of town.

  Chapter Sixteen

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  “Back in the day, my grandparents and I would come to the Mother Lode all the time for steak dinners.” Mallory surveyed the remnants of the girls’-night-out feast and shook her head. “Gramma would have been appalled at this travesty of a meal.”

  Sitting between Kallie and Becca, Sunny grinned. “Appetizers and desserts are the best part of any meal. Why waste time on a main course?”

  “This was brilliant.” Beside Mallory, Gin scooped up a bite of her crème brûlée and mmmm’d in delight. “Usually, after a regular meal, I never have room for dessert.”

  “Exactly.” Having been the one to suggest the idea, Kallie looked smug.

  With a sigh of repletion, Mallory leaned back in her chair and gazed around. The rustic restaurant hadn’t changed since the first time her grandparents had brought her and Mom here. On the rough plank walls, antique mining tools—picks, shovels, gold pans—vied with vintage black-and-white photos. Glass-topped wagon wheels made round tables. A gleaming wood bar along one side provided the fancy drinks Gin loved.

  “All right, Miss Mallory,” Becca said.

  Mallory raised her eyebrows. “What?”

  Becca turned to the other women. “I’ve been patient, right?”

  Gin looked at her blankly. “You? Patient?”

  When Becca glowered, Sunny jumped in. “You are a miracle of patience, Becca. We live in awe of your long-suffering nature.”

  “Much better. However, my miraculous patience is exhausted.” Becca pointed at Mallory. “First, in case you didn’t know, everyone here has visited Dark Haven—and all of our men are Doms. Your text that you’d had an okay time in the club was totally inadequate. I want a full report.”

  Sunny’s spoon dropped to the table. “Mal? Tell me Becca’s joking.”

  “You sent her to Dark Haven?” Gin frowned at Becca. “Seriously? Did she have any idea of what she was getting into?”

  Mallory rolled her eyes. Talk about being surrounded by mother-hen personalities.

  At the same time, she had to smile at Becca, who hadn’t shared with the gang until now. Truly, that did show amazing—and unusual—discretion.

  Kallie waved her fork at Mallory. “Spill the details, girl.”

  “I did have fun.” What an understatement. Stalling, she took a bite of apple cobbler.

  “Mallory…” Becca warned.

  She took another bite. For the love of cats, what could she say? In many ways
, her entire world had changed. Sawyer was in her life now. She’d admitted she loved him. Maybe he hadn’t said it back, yet the affection he showed her, the caring, wasn’t just in bed but all the time. He’d spent every evening with her, every night in her bed, had breakfast with her in the mornings. Texted her during the day.

  Apparently, his objection to being in a relationship was over and done. In fact, since she already had an IUD, they’d gone to the clinic Monday morning to get tested so they could dispense with the condoms. She smiled, thinking of how nice it would be to lose that barrier.

  She realized Kallie was frowning with impatience for the report.

  “Dark Haven, right. Well, I guess I’m kinkier than I thought.” Mallory couldn’t think of what else to add. “It was Halloween, so everyone was in costume, and those were amazing. The unicorns had shoes that looked like hooves.”

  “Pony play with a twist.” Sunny laughed. “Did you meet My Liege and Simon and the Enforcer?”

  “Xavier, yes. He’s a bit intimidating.” Mallory got snorts for her understatement from the others. “Simon was very nice. Who is the Enforcer?”

  “That’s deVries. Big, military-looking guy. Short hair.” Gin narrowed her eyes. “Actually, he reminds me of Sawyer. They give off the same ‘I’m a predator at the top of the food chain’ vibe.”

  Mallory grinned at the description. “I must have missed seeing deVries.” Because she’d been concentrating on her own military-looking guy. And what he’d been doing to her.

  He’d done even more since. In fact, he’d said he appreciated her bed’s fancy scroll design, then had shown her what he meant. Who knew a person could be tied up in so many ways?

  She should never have let him see her doing yoga. He’d certainly taken full advantage of her flexibility.

  Feeling her temperature rise, she turned to Becca. “So, are you going to close down Serenity and vacation somewhere warm this winter? Now that Ansel is older?”

  “Changing the subject, hmm?” Becca laughed. “All right. As long as I know you had fun, I won’t push further.”

  “You’re a good woman,” Mallory told her.

  The waitress arrived to take orders for more drinks or coffee, and Mallory settled back.

  If she and Sawyer continued to see each other, she’d let Kallie and Becca know. Although Sunny’d seen them together at the clinic on Monday, the nurse was very discreet.

  And right now, Mallory wasn’t ready to share. Because…well, he’d already backed away from her twice.

  Yes, she loved him. Unfortunately, love wasn’t always enough to hold a relationship together. He had his own goals, and after his exciting life, he might find being settled wasn’t what he wanted. Or his dream of a future might not include a quiet home life.

  She needed to live in the moment and enjoy what they had without trying to build it into something more.

  Not an easy assignment for a person who built dreams for other people every day.

  *

  Craving easy-to-prepare food, Sawyer drove into town and grabbed a big lasagna from the grocery’s frozen food section. At least he’d made it before the store closed.

  Since Mallory had joined her girlfriends for some female thing, he was on his own. He smiled. He couldn’t complain; he’d been with her every evening and night since Dark Haven.

  To his relief, the Aryan Hammers had been quiet. He wasn’t sure how Mallory would react if and when the GPS tracker alarm had him hauling his ass out of bed to intervene in a burglary. Dammit, he didn’t want her to worry.

  Or to know he was tight-roping on the edge of breaking the law.

  As he walked out of the store, the street was lit only by the Victorian style streetlights. The Mother Lode restaurant, and the pharmacy, grocery, and tavern were still open with customers coming and going.

  With the seasonal decrease in tourists, the gang members were easy to spot. Three members of some offshoot of the Mexican Mafia sauntered down the boardwalk. Across the street, a neo-Nazi was leaning against the railing in front of the shoe store. Interesting. The Aryan Hammers were rarely alone.

  Two clusters of high school kids were also wandering the street. Most wore plain jeans, T-shirts, and various sweatshirts. Two were in hoodies and hovering close to the gangbanger.

  As Sawyer tossed the grocery sack into his pickup, he noticed the two kids had moved in and were talking to the lone gangbanger.

  Damn. He’d give odds a drug deal was being set up—and the Aryan Hammers were into crystal meth, about the most addictive substance known to man.

  Sawyer growled under his breath. There was no way he could intervene and stay anonymous. But, dammit—no matter what those teens thought, they were just kids. He had to step in.

  He pulled out his phone and texted Att: You got a dealer setting up a buy with kids near the shoe store. See you there.

  There. He’d notified the cops, all virtuous and shit. If things went sour, for whatever reason, the cops would be there for backup. The teens would have help.

  Slamming the door of the pickup, he headed down the boardwalk. The kids and skinhead were moving casually toward the alley that ran between the shoe store and the post office.

  He didn’t recognize the dealer. With luck, the non-recognition would be mutual.

  Didn’t matter. The teens, no matter how foolish, were part of his new town. He hadn’t fought his ass off overseas to come home and watch kids being targeted. Addicted.

  His best bet would be to act like a clueless local who’d blundered onto the scene.

  A couple of minutes after the trio disappeared into the dark alley, he edged just far enough to snap three quick pictures. There. If the kids got away, Att could probably enhance the poorly-lit photos and find them.

  Sawyer pulled his hat brim lower. He’d concentrate on the dealer…who’d just looked around. What with the streetlights behind Sawyer, probably all the asshole could see would be a dark shape.

  Reminded him of a movie…the one where some idiot, trying to be a hero, had been shot dead.

  Yeah, it could happen. Muscles tensed and ready for action, Sawyer sauntered into the alley and said loudly, “What’s going on back here?”

  “Beat it, motherfucker,” the dealer said.

  “Hey, you’re one of those skinhead types.” Sawyer took another step in. “Are you selling drugs?”

  The teens shied back. The tall, brown-haired one pocketed a baggie as the dealer shoved bills into his jacket. The buy was complete. That should make Att happy.

  “Drugs are a bad idea, boys,” Sawyer told them. “If you keep this up, you’ll end up in front of a judge, and prison sucks.” No truer words had ever been spoken.

  The two exchanged looks and started edging away from Sawyer and the skinhead.

  The skinhead made an annoyed sound. Well over six feet, he was emaciated as hell, showing the dumbass used his own product. He snicked open a switchblade. “You don’t know who you’re messing with, you fucker.”

  Sawyer took a step back and let his voice go higher. “That’s a knife.” Dammit. His gut tensed. It’d hurt like hell when Slash had knifed him last summer.

  He needed that blade farther away from the kids. He raised his voice. “Only pussies carry knives. Guess that makes you a pussy.”

  “Fucker, you’re dead.” With an enraged growl, the dealer charged.

  Sawyer faked a dodge to the right, spun left, and slammed the man’s knife arm into the post office’s brick wall.

  Bones snapped, and Sawyer’s gut turned over. Seriously? He hadn’t used that much force.

  Screeching high and loud, the dealer dropped the knife.

  Sawyer spoke past the thickness in his throat. “Boy, you need to take more calcium.” He kicked the dealer’s knee, and the gangbanger landed on the ground, crying and begging.

  When the darkness of the alley suddenly increased, Sawyer crouched, checked his six—and relaxed.

  Virgil and Att stood in the opening to the alley, t
heir bodies cutting off the light from Main Street.

  A patrol car pulled into the alley from the other end—and the two kids who’d fled in that direction skidded to a stop. The car advanced, herding the boys back and illuminating the alley.

  “Got a problem here?” Virgil asked Sawyer mildly, his gaze on the two teens.

  “The tall boy bought something and stuffed the baggie in his front right pocket. The money is in this guy’s”—Sawyer nudged the dealer with his toe—“inside jacket pocket. When I asked what was going on, the dumbass tried to knife me.”

  “Nothin’ happened here,” the brown-haired teen yelled, suddenly finding his courage.

  The other kid’s face was almost as pale as his hair. He shoved his friend. “Are you crazy? That dealer tried to stab him.”

  Ignoring his shorter friend, the brown-haired boy glared at Sawyer. “It’s your word against ours.”

  “Well, my word along with the pictures I took,” Sawyer said.

  The boy groaned.

  “Oh, fuck.” The blond collapsed onto the blacktop. “Dad’s gonna kill me.”

  Att snorted. “Better your parents yell than you end up rotting in the ground.”

  A crowd of people was gathering around the alleyway.

  Virgil rolled the dealer over, realized his arm was busted. “Guess I don’t need to handcuff you, do I?” He sent Sawyer an unreadable look before saying, “Can you call for an ambulance, Atticus?”

  “Can do.”

  Sawyer started moving out of the alley, when he heard Virgil add, “I’m glad you saw the deal going down, Sawyer. Thanks for intervening and keeping drugs away from our kids.”

  When the people in the small crowd echoed Masterson’s thanks, Sawyer didn’t know what to say.

  But it felt good.

  “Way to go, bro.” Slapping Sawyer’s shoulder, Att pocketed his phone and headed for the kids. “See you at the station for your report.”

  Paperwork. Great. At this rate, he might as well be working for the force.