Page 118 of Branded

The rough way they grab her. The way her body goes slack, helpless, makes me sick to my stomach.

She was a hundred yards from the barn. A hundred fucking yards. On our property. Surrounded by security. And they still got her.

My email app dings with a new message. I tap on the icon with shaking hands.

Mr. Drake,

Your wife is safe and will remain so provided you cooperate. We require the following:

1. Transfer of deed to the south pastures, approximately 5,000 acres bordering our properties, to be completed within 48 hours.

2. Public statement acknowledging the land is wrongfully held by your family.

3. Signed agreement that no legal action will be taken regarding Mrs. Drake’s temporary detention.

Agree to these terms, and your wife will be returned unharmed. Refuse, and we’ll be forced to explore other options. Including releasing certain information about how you and Mrs. Drake actually met.

You have 48 hours. We’ll be in touch.

T. Marshall

I read it once, then forward it to Caroline. She’s going to need every shred of evidence we can get to clear our name when I murder his entire family.

They thought I’d negotiate. Figured I’d trade land for my wife like this is some civilized business transaction.

They’ve forgotten who I am. I’m the man who makes business deals under the table. The man willing to handle problems less than legally. And when it comes to this family, I’ll kill.

I need to let Warren Briggs know what is going on, so I find his number and hit call.

He answers on the second ring. “Sebastian? Is everything alright?”

“Someone took Lennox. Kidnapped her off our property about ten minutes ago.” My voice is steady despite the rage coursing through me. “I’m assembling men to go get her back. But I thought you should know.”

Silence on the other end. Then Warren’s voice, cold and deadly: “Say that again.”

“The neighbor we’ve had issues with kidnapped Lennox. I think she told you about Thomas Marshall. He sent ransom demands, but I’m not negotiating. I’m going to get her back.”

“How many men are you taking with you?”

“Twenty some. Every hand I’ve got who can shoot.”

“Give me your coordinates, I’m bringing my boys to help. We’ll be there in three hours.”

“Sir, I can’t ask you to do that. I just wanted you to know what’s happening.”

“She’s my daughter and I need to know she’s okay.” I hear movement in the background, Warren shouting orders. “Cage! Cole! We’re going to Texas. Now.” Back to me. “Sebastian, you listen to me very carefully. Nobody, and I mean nobody, who puts their hands on my daughter walks away from this. You understand me?”

The certainty in his voice makes my blood run cold. This isn’t a threat. It is a promise.

“He’ll be carried out in a body bag, you have my word.”

“Good. Send me the address. We’ll meet you there. And Sebastian?” His voice drops lower. “You make sure they regret ever thinking about taking her. Are we clear?”

“Crystal clear, sir.”

“I’m sending you my boys’ numbers. You coordinate with them. Keep us updated on what you find.”

“Every step of the way.”