Accidental Knight: A Marriage Mistake Romance(105)

And now that day has arrived.

I stop the truck and leap out, racing back to Wallace’s car.

“The storage yard.” We both say at the same time.

“We’ll go from here on foot,” I tell him. “Gotta move fast.”

“Hey, hold up. You’re a civilian,” Wallace says. “If those men are armed, you’d be better off letting –”

Fuck and no.

Ignoring him, I jog back to my truck, grab my Glock from under the seat and the extra clip from the door panel.

He catches up with me as I’m standing behind a tree, surveying the fenced in area full of trucks. It’s a big old building with storage tanks and an array of outdated, rusting drilling equipment. I’d forgotten North Earhart even had this decaying storage facility out here.

Edison is still walking down the hill at a low imitation gallop.

“Poor boy,” I mutter.

Honestly, I’m pretty damn impressed, too.

That old horse has more stamina than I’d ever have given him credit for. He’s either a genius or half hound dog, too. I’m not certain which.

“I told the deputies to come in on foot,” Wallace tells me, resigning himself to my presence.

“The only gate’s at the front, and it’s open,” I say.

“Dammit. They could be in any of those buildings.”

“Give it a minute. Edison will tell us which one.” I slap his back. “Let’s go. Stay in the trees.”

“I know what I’m doing. Who’s the trained law enforcement officer here?”

“I’m not holding your lack of training against you,” I say, knowing he’s got nothing on an Army sniper. “Just stay close.”

We weave our way downhill and follow Edison through the open gate, scanning the area for movement.

My gun is cocked and ready to go, but it’s my hands that are itching to get a hold of Avery Briar.

Just as bad as I’d wanted them around his monster son’s neck years ago.

The rotten apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. That’s for fucking sure.

Other deputies file in through the gate behind us and fan out. Must be the whole Dallas police force.

Wallace and I stick to following Edison, letting him lead. When the horse stops and leans a shoulder against the side of a building, my heart sinks.

His breathing is labored, and sweat keeps foaming on his chest. He lets out a loud snort, and for a second, I’m afraid he’ll go down right here.

Shit.

I hold up a hand when Wallace steps closer. “After this is through, we’re gonna need a vet out here ASAP. I mean now, Rodney.”

He nods and pulls out his phone.

While he talks, I step closer to the horse, laying a hand on his back as I walk along his side. “You did good, old man,” I whisper in his ear. “I’ll take it from here. Time to bring Bella home.”

He lets out a snort, quieter than the last. An exhausted one.

My gut sinks.

I don’t want to admit how much this horse has come to mean to me. Or how hard it’ll be for Bella to see him go, assuming I can get her out of there.

A sound inside the building has me stopping cold in front of Edison, peering around the corner.

There’s a shadow. A tall guy wearing a baseball cap steps out and lets the door slam shut behind him.

Good. He has no idea we’re here.

I want to know where he’s going next. Also don’t have a clue where the deputies are. The longer we can minimize the chances of bullets flying without backup, the better.

Crouching down, I grab a rock and wait.

Then the door finally opens again.

Now. I make my move, racing forward a perfect pitch.

The rock sails through the air and strikes the back of his head, and as he spins around, surprise!

My fist smacks his face and he goes down silently, other than the thud of his head on concrete.

He’s not out, though.

His eyes are wide open, and he’s gasping, trying to catch the air that’s been knocked out of him. I grab the front of his shirt, hoist him off the ground, demanding to know where Bella is when he’s knocked right out of my hand.

Edison.

Holy fuck.

The guy hits the ground again and the horse rears up, stomping his hooves on the back of his head.

He’s out cold this time. Either fainted or knocked out.

The blood flowing out of his nose bubbles, so he’s still breathing.

Nonchalant, as if he hadn’t done anything, Edison walks slowly away from the body.

“Drake,” Wallace hisses. “Look!”

I stop, having already started to follow Edison, leaving the sheriff to cuff that prick.

Then I see what he’s pointing to.

A dragon tattoo behind his left ear. Suddenly, I wish Edison had murdered this piece of shit.

“The real Adam Briar,” I snarl, having half a mind to do it myself, right in front of the law.

“That’d be my guess,” Wallace answers. “Damn. He’s a dead ringer for our dead pal, Holden.”

I’m not listening. I’m too sick with rage, too ready to slit his throat, make sure he never stands up again.

But then I see the horse moving, this single-minded focus on her.

I look down at the crumpled heap of a monster on the ground and turn up my nose.