If You Dare (Dare 3)

Cole goes to punch him, but I push his chest, knocking him out of the way. “Okay!” I say, stepping between them. “Can we at least limit the bloodshed to outside? I don’t want Austin killing me when she comes home to find blood everywhere,” I joke.

No one laughs.

“Come on, Shane.” Bennett slaps him on the back and pulls him out of the entryway, grabbing his bag up off the tile.

Cole goes to walk up the stairs, but I stop him. He looks at me over his shoulder. “It doesn’t hurt to have numbers on our side,” I tell him.

“It only helps if you know they’re with you and not against you.”

I feel a pain in my chest for him. “No one is gonna touch her, Cole. I promise.” He says nothing. “You know I would protect her, right?” Austin is like the little sister I never had. Shelby was always the big sister, and we’re close, but Austin is just different. She’s just like us. Not afraid to get her hands dirty. Where Shelby would run and hide, Austin would jump to be out in the front. And I think that’s what scares Cole the most. He can’t hold her back if she decides to dive in.

He finally nods, and with that, he turns and walks up the stairs.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

DEKE

LATER THAT EVENING, we find ourselves sitting in the Range Rover once again. I’m driving down the darkened road as Cole’s cell rings through the silence. He picks it up out of the cupholder and lets out a long breath before he hits answer and places it to his ear.

“Hello?” There’s a pause. “It’ll be late.” Another pause. “Don’t wait up. Love you.” Then he hangs up.

I slide my eyes over to him and see that he holds down the power button until it shuts off completely, and then he tosses it back into the cupholder. “Cole—”

“Drop it,” he interrupts me coldly.

My hands tighten on the steering wheel, and I clamp my jaw to keep from telling him he’s making a fucking mistake. Pushing away Austin is not the answer, but we all deal with our demons differently. And Cole is going to do whatever the fuck he wants.

My phone dings, and I take a quick glance at it. My eyes dart to Cole when I see it’s from Austin. “I need to get gas,” I say suddenly, needing to pull over so I can read it.

Cole waves his hand in the air, and the guys mumble an okay from the back seat as if I was asking permission. I wasn’t. Pulling into the nearest gas station, I put it in park and get out, taking my phone with me. I begin to fill up my SUV when I open the message.

Austin: I don’t know what’s up with Cole, but you need to figure it out and tell me what I can do. It’s getting worse.

I run a hand through my hair and let out a sigh.

Me: I’m working on it.

Austin: Are you with him right now? He’s turned his phone off.

Me: Yes, I’m with him.

I top off my tank, and no one questions the fact that I only pumped ten dollars in gas. Or the fact that I just filled up this morning on the way home from the airport.

Twenty minutes later, we pull up to the cabin, and I shut the car off. My lights continue to shine on the little house that the address brought us to at Lake Travis.

“Sure this is it?” Shane asks.

Cole doesn’t answer. He just opens the door and gets out. I make sure to grab my gun out of the center console and tuck it into the back of my jeans. Who knows what kind of situation we are walking into? I’m not going to go unarmed. And I know that Cole isn’t either. Since the police kept his gun for evidence back in Collins, he’s gotten a new one, and he never goes anywhere without it. I’m not sure about Shane or Bennett. I doubt they’re armed, though, since they flew in today and wouldn’t have been able to carry a gun on the plane with them.

Walking up the five steps, Cole picks up the small flowerpot and grabs the single key. The message we had received told us it would be there. Cole opens the door; it creaks as we step in.

I reach over and flip the single switch on the wall, and it lights up the room. It’s not bad for a cabin. A brown leather couch sits in the middle of the room. It has various photos on the walls of the lake that it overlooks, and a TV hangs on the wall. It has a musty smell to it, letting us know it hasn’t been lived in for a while.