Page 31 of Savage Ranger Daddy

16

Brock

We drive back to the outpost in near-silence, the mountains darkening around us as the last light drains from the sky.

Hazel has her notebook open on her lap, writing by the glow of the dashboard. She's organizing everything from the Haven 7 briefing: the rezoned parcel, the logging camp layout, the south fork reroute, Silas's revelation about Jeffrey Pruitt burying the anonymous tip. Her pen moves in quick, precise strokes. She's been at it since we left the compound. I let her work. There's nothing I can say right now that would be more useful than what she's putting on that page.

At the cabin I clear the perimeter, check the generator, and scan the tree line from the porch. Clean. No tracks. No disruption to the motion sensor on the north approach. I step inside and lock the door behind me.

Hazel is at the table spreading out the maps from Haven 7 next to her own notes. She's cross-referencing the south fork access route against Cal's trail network, plotting the rerouted patharound the downed Miller Creek bridge. Her finger traces the line and stops at the logging camp.

"If they're consolidating cargo at the camp tonight, the distribution window is tomorrow," she says without looking up. "That gives Silas and Mason about eighteen hours to position assets and execute the raid."

"Harlan's coordinating with Mason right now. Silas is pulling his clean deputies into a separate channel. By morning the operational plan will be set." I hang my jacket and start building a fire. "We need to eat and sleep. Tomorrow is going to move fast."

She nods. We eat standing at the counter, reheating stew from the supply stock. Neither of us sits down. The energy in the cabin is different tonight. Not the slow-burn tension of the last few days. Something sharper. The feeling before a mission, when everything you've been building toward is about to happen and the only thing left is the doing.

After we eat she showers and I check the weapons cache. Sidearm cleaned and loaded. Spare magazines. The rifle I'll leave with Rafe's men who'll be stationed here with Hazel tomorrow. I set everything out on the table in ordered rows, then stow it in the case by the door.

When Hazel comes out of the bathroom her hair is damp and she's wearing my flannel over her sleep shorts. She stops at the edge of the bed and looks at me.

"Come to bed," she says. Not an invitation to anything more. Just the simple request of a woman who doesn't want to sleep alone on the night before everything changes.

I strip down to my thermal and jeans and lie beside her on top of the quilts. She curls against my side, her hand flat on my chest. The fire crackles. The wind pushes against the windows. The sat phone on the nightstand is set to scan.

For a long minute neither of us speaks. Then her fingers flex against my shirt.

"Brock."

"Yeah."

"When this is over. When the camp is secured and the case is closed. I want time with you. Real time. Not crisis time. Not outpost-under-siege time. Just us."

I pull her closer. "You'll have it."

She shifts, propping herself up on one elbow so she can look at me in the firelight. Her hair is still damp from the shower. She's wearing my flannel and almost nothing underneath. The sight of her in my clothes in my bed does something permanent to my chest.

"I don't want to wait until it's over," she says quietly. "I want you now."

I go still. "Hazel?—"

"I know the timing is terrible. I know tomorrow could go wrong in a hundred ways. But I've spent every night since the storm replaying that kiss and wishing I'd asked for more. I'm done wishing."

She leans down and kisses me.

This one isn’t soft or careful. It’s hungry and certain and full of everything we’ve been holding back. I roll her under me in onesmooth motion, bracing my weight on my forearms so I don’t crush her. She makes a low sound against my mouth and hooks one leg over my hip, pulling me closer.

My hand slides under the flannel. Bare, warm skin. No bra. I groan into the kiss.

“You’re sure?” I manage, voice rough.

“Yes.” Her eyes are dark and steady in the firelight. “I’m sure. I want this. I want you. Tonight.”

That’s all I need.

I kiss her deeper, slower, and let myself stop fighting it. My hand cups her breast, thumb brushing over her nipple until it tightens. She gasps into my mouth and arches up.

“Fuck, look at you,” I mutter against her lips. “All soft and eager in my shirt. You got any idea what that does to me?”