Unease snaked through Colt’s insides at the confirmation Mason was still in danger—the aborted morning blow job all but forgotten—but there was also a sense of relief that their time together wasn’t over yet.
“Tell me,” Mason demanded.
“Nothing has changed,” Colt said carefully, readying for Mason’s reaction. “Jack’s not behind the threats, but Nick wants you at the station to sign for trespassing to hunt charges.”
Mason sat up abruptly. The sheets slipped off his shoulders, and his bare chest rose and fell rapidly with his quickening breath. The color washed from his face, and then a deep red blush filled his cheeks. Fear to rage in zero seconds flat.
“What the hell do you mean? He was there, on my property.” Mason launched off the bed like an Olympic gymnast and stood with his legs wide and hands fisted. He started to pace; his voice grew insistent. “We all saw the camp on the drone footage. How could he not be the one behind everything? And Nick is just letting him go free?”
It took Colt a second to catch on that Mason had stopped talking, too distracted by all the supple skin and hard-earned muscles of Mason’s bare body on display. Colt held his hands up in supplication, still holding his phone in one hand. “I don’t know any more than what I just told you.”
“But . . . Iknowit was him.” If Mason’s hands weren’t clenched into fists so tight his knuckles were white, they were tugging at his hair and making it stick up at odd angles. Every muscle on his naked body was tight and coiled. Anger thrummed off him in waves Colt could feel all the way across the room. But damn, he was gorgeous when he was on fire like that.
“Is Nick one hundred percent sure about this?”
“Yes.” Colt pushed his errant thoughts away to focus on the situation at hand. He put his phone down and leaned back against the headboard.
“Isn’t it too fast for them to confirm all of this?” Mason asked—no, demanded.
Colt shrugged. Sometimes things resolved quickly, and sometimes they dragged on for years. He knew Mason wouldn’t see it as a good thing, but he was lucky Nick had cleared Jack so fast. That meant they wouldn’t stop looking for the real perp by wasting precious time with the wrong suspect.
“The good news is that we haven’t let our guards down,” Colt assured.
A whoosh of air escaped Mason. He flopped down backward on the bed and squeezed his eyes shut. Diesel and Marley slinked into the room and sat on either side of his leg dangling over the edge of the bed. Mason cracked a half smile and sat up to give each dog a pet.
“Thank you, puppies,” he whispered.
Mason looked over his shoulder at Colt, his gaze distant. He was quiet for a minute, and Colt had a feeling Mason wasn’t really seeing him.
“I want to check on the horses before going into town.” There was a dejected note in his voice that pinched at Colt’s heart.
Mason rose from the bed again without waiting for a reply and began to dress.
Colt sighed. He got it. Mason had gone to sleep last night thinking Jack had been behind all the vandalism and threats and that he was safe now, but in reality, nothing had changed.
Colt slipped out of bed and got dressed as well. He stayed quiet as he followed Mason to the foyer to pull on his boots and while they walked side by side to the barns. Mason needed to process, and Colt didn’t want to stress him more by bringing up ranch hands as suspects again.
He hung back to give Mason his space while he checked on his and his sisters’ horses and then the rescues but stayed close enough to keep an eye on him. He texted his brothers to let them know the threat to Mason still existed. Once Mason seemed content enough that the horses were all okay, he stood in front of the medical barn and shoved his hands into his pockets. He seemed so lost in that moment.
“What do you say we grab some breakfast before we head into town?” Colt’s stomach rumbled, fully on board with that plan.
“After” was all Mason said as he headed toward Colt’s truck.
Colt silently followed, hopped in after Mason, and lifted the center console lid.Yes. Three granola bars were stashed inside. He offered one to Mason, who only shook his head and then turned to stare out the passenger window, arms crossed over his chest, lost to his own thoughts. Colt opened one and shoved it into his mouth as he started the engine.
Colt fought the urge to reach out and put a hand on Mason’s thigh to let him know he was there, that he understood, and that Mason wasn’t alone. He suppressed a sigh. Even though a selfish part of him wanted to prolong the job so he could spend more time with Mason, he needed to focus on finding the person behind the threats so Mason could get back to living without worry or fear.
The thirty-minute drive into Havenridge stretched on forever, and the tension radiating off Mason increased with each mile. When they arrived in town, Colt steered the truck into a parking spot in front of the red brick police station. Mason was out of the cab and stomping through the front doors before Colt had even put the truck in Park. He cursed under his breath and raced to follow him inside, catching the door as it swung closed.
Maeve’s head shot up at Mason’s impatient entry. She opened her mouth, probably to reprimand Mason for startling her, but she turned her head.
“Mason’s here,” she hollered toward Nick’s office and then went back to her paperwork.
Nick appeared and stepped into the main office, a frown turning his mouth down as his shrewd gaze assessed Mason’s state. A woman in a beige Colorado Parks and Wildlife short-sleeved shirt, jeans, and heavy-duty black boots followed Nick. She had long blonde hair tied back under a black ball cap with the CPW logo on it.
“Sorry I don’t have better news for you, Mason,” Nick said by way of greeting.
“Are you just letting him go scot-free?” Mason’s voice rose a notch. The anger that had been simmering since Nick’s call that morning and brewing hotter on the drive into town surfaced.
