with two fingers. Then he looks to me and nods, telling me to take over.
I look into the eyes of my brothers and my dad, and an overwhelming sense of gratitude sweeps through me. “We walk until we see Dixon’s place, then we fan out. We don’t know if he’s alone with Dakota or if there are others, so be aware of any back doors. I’ll take the front door. If any of you get the opportunity for a kill shot, take it. Just not if he’s near Dakota.”
We break, walking in unison until the lights from a structure filter through the trees. We creep closer, our footfalls light, until a small, dilapidated cabin comes into view. Even from this distance, I can make out two figures on the porch. I pause, pulling my military-grade night-vision binoculars from my pocket. Everyone stops and waits for me.
The second I peer through them, I wish like hell I hadn’t.
I turn my head, squeeze my eyes tight, and cuss through clenched teeth. I pass the binos to my dad, who looks and sends them on to Warner, then to Wyatt. They look at me, waiting to see if what we’ve discovered changes our plans.
“Proceed,” I murmur, my volume less than a whisper. I can’t help but feel like the years I spent deactivating explosives in the Middle East were all leading up to this moment, preparing me for the most important job of my life.
Warner and Wyatt go right, my dad goes left, and I walk forward. I’m close enough now that I don’t need the binoculars to see. Dixon, slouching on the bottom step, his back against the railing. And Dakota, in the middle of the porch, bound and gagged. She sits on her knees, and strapped to her chest is the most embarrassing attempt at a homemade bomb I’ve ever seen.
But that doesn’t mean it won’t detonate.
My hands clench and unclench, adrenaline pulses through my body, and my ears begin to pound. This is rage like I’ve never felt it.
Dakota’s eyes are closed, and I close mine for a second too, trying to send her a message. I’m here. I’m going to save you. When my eyes open, I find hers have also. I’ve never believed in fate, in ghosts or angels, or in almost anything I can’t see, but right now Dakota’s eyes are trained on me. I know she cannot possibly see me under the cover of darkness, but it feels like she is looking straight into my soul, like she heard me.
I put one foot in front of the other until I’m a hair’s breadth from the clearing.
Dakota’s eyes grow wide, and her body jerks as if she was going to get up and try to run but stopped herself. Dakota’s reaction has told Dixon he’s getting just what he wanted.
Me.
He swings around and stands, his gaze zeroing in on me. Then he grins, the kind of sinister smile that belongs on a Halloween mask. There is blood on his face.
The smile falls off his face like he’s just realized he’s forgotten something and he scrambles up the steps, going to stand behind Dakota.
He’s hiding behind her like the coward he is.
“Let her go, Dixon,” I call out. “Your problem is with me.”
He shakes his head and reaches under his shirt, producing a small handgun. He points it at me. “Do you know what happened to my family after your dad fired my pops? My mom died and my dad killed himself. He was stealing because we needed the money to pay my mom’s medical expenses. Selling saddles made him a little extra money, and it didn’t hurt your dad. But no. Your dad wouldn’t have it.” He sneers and shakes his head. “I told you a king would fall. A Hayden took everything from my dad. Now I’m going to take everything from a Hayden.” He points the gun to Dakota’s temple.
“I’ll take her place,” I shout. “Let her go and come and get me.”
He snorts. “Do you expect me to believe Warner isn’t out there”—he motions to the woods with the gun—“somewhere, just waiting to get a shot?”
“He’s with the barn you set on fire. I went to find Dakota and discovered your pocket knife on the floor of the hotel room.” I dig the knife from my pocket and hold it up, tossing it out into the middle of the clearing.
Dixon eyes me, unsure. I have to get him away from Dakota, using any means