Anti-Hero (Wild Heart Ranch Book 4)
Anti-Hero: Chapter 22

I wake with a start in an unfamiliar room on an overly firm mattress with voices filtering up from the floor below. It takes me a minute, but the fantastic smells coming from the kitchen remind me I’m in Mexico with Ant and his family.

Ant shifts next to me, humming, comfortable, sweet. “God, that smells so fucking good,” he says while yawning. His hair is sticking out in all directions again, and I fucking love that about him.

Of course, I love more than just his hair. It’s the man himself. The more I admit it to myself, the less it scares me because I know how to love him and keep him safe. Even with my parents’ shitty example, I have so many other examples of real true love, and I trust myself.

I snuggle in close to him, loving our shared warmth. “What sexual favors would I have to promise to get you to cook breakfast like that for me?”

He starts laughing, then pushes me to my back so he can straddle me. He places a soft kiss on my lips and starts rolling his hips when Javier’s voice booms from the first floor.

“Get up, you lazy boys! Breakfast is getting cold!”

Ant touches his forehead to mine, his body shaking with laughter. Rolling off me, he yells back, “Okay, old man! We’re coming!”

We quickly change into street clothes and step across the hallway to brush our teeth so we can kiss properly. We get a little lost in the process until Javier yells up at us again, and we part and put ourselves together before making it down the stairs.

I’m a little embarrassed when I see the entire family waiting for us, seated around the table with the most amazing-smelling dishes ever.

Ant’s eyes widen, and he grins up at me. “Oh my God. If you thought her posole was good, that has nothing on my abuela’s chilaquiles.”

Abuela smiles proudly. “Suizas, just like you like them.”

Gael scoffs. “Oh sure. Roll out the fancy breakfast for Ant. Meanwhile, all I get around here is oatmeal.”

Snorting, Yaya throws a tortilla at him. “You’re a grown man, Gael. Your inability to cook for yourself is no one’s fault but your own.”

“And,” Ant says, accepting a cup of coffee from his abuelo, “you act as though this isn’t your favorite breakfast too.”

I pile the cheesy fried tortilla bits on my plate. Javier tosses a couple of fried eggs on top of it, then slides a fantastic-smelling green salsa in front of me.

“Careful, Noruego. It’s a little spicy.”

I carefully pour a little salsa on a small corner of the pile of goodness and give it a try.

“Holy shit,” I choke out, immediately feeling Abuela’s stare of disapproval.

I hold up my hands, no hope of redemption. “I’m so sorry. I’ve never had something so good in all my life, and I don’t care if my mouth is on fire.”

She raises a sharp brow at me, then gestures for me to continue. I can’t be certain, but I’m pretty sure that’s pride in her eyes.

“Dude, you almost died,” Ant whispers as he uses a spatula to transfer a pile of chilaquiles onto his plate.

I ladle the green salsa all over everything and take one of the homemade corn tortillas, knowing I’ll use it to clean my plate. “Literally worth it. I swear, if you learn how to make this, I will buy you a pony.”

Gael snorts next to me. Shit, I forgot he was there.

Ant’s self-satisfied grin makes my heart speed up. “Considering my mom already taught me how to make this, including the salsa, you’ve got yourself a deal.”

“What about the tortillas?” I beg as I roll one up and inhale the freshness.

“Fine. But I don’t need a pony. You’ll just owe me big time.”

“Whatever you want. I’m good for it.”

Gael and Ant reach across me to fist bump, and I don’t even care. Fuck, I’m in heaven. I love being from Norway, but fårikål has nothing on this.

Everyone settles into the meal, and unlike last night’s quieter affair, this feels like a true celebration. Gael and Ant are making each other laugh hysterically. Javier and Yaya keep trading ribald jokes their mother says she does not appreciate, despite the fact we all catch her laughing. Twice.

Emil and Abuelo are the only two at the table who are quiet, yet their beaming smiles tell me everything. When Abuela isn’t looking, I take out my phone and snap a quick picture of the madness, then send it to Charlie and Nacho.

Nacho: Are those chilaquiles?

Nacho: You motherfucker.

Nacho: Can you bring some back with you?

Charlie: Wow. Everyone looks so happy.

Charlie: I’m proud of us, you big Swede.

I keep the phone in my lap and an eye out for Abuela while sending my reply.

Me: Not this again.

Nacho: Yeah, yeah, yeah. I’m going to need an answer on those chilaquiles.

Me: Sorry, friend. I plan on keeping my Nordic ass in this chair until I’ve eaten every last bit.

Nacho: Bastardo.

Me: <kissy face emoji>

Nacho: No, but seriously. I’ve never seen Ant look that happy.

Charlie: This is why we do what we do.

Me: Sorry, can’t hear all of your disgusting sincerity over the fucking delicious green salsa and crunchy homemade tortilla chips.

Nacho: <cursing emoji>

Charlie: <middle finger emoji>

Laughing, I sneak another look at the picture. Nacho is right. Ant’s eyes are bright and shiny, and his smile is easy and genuine. I rub my chest and try to soak in the moment.

“What are you smiling at?” Ant whispers.

I angle my phone so he can read the exchange, and he silently laughs.

“What are you two laughing at?” Abuela asks.

“Shit, abort. Abort,” I hiss, biting back my smile.

Ant lays his forehead on my shoulder, convulsing with laughter. “You are afraid of Abuela.”

“Am not.”

“You’re so terrified it’s adorable.”

“No, I’m not.”

He stretches over and kisses my jaw. “I love you so much, you dork,” he giggles. Then goes very, very still. Ant slinks back into his chair. “Sorry,” he whispers.

The conversation continues around us, so I grab his hand, kissing the back of it. His eyes slowly lift to mine, genuine fear in them. Mm. That’s on me. For now, I whisper, “No takebacks.”

He blinks, then flushes, his smile returning full force. Keeping his hand in mine, we remain seated around the breakfast table for at least another hour, chatting and, yes, eating every bit of those chilaquiles. Even with the gentle ribbing about my accent, everyone is genuinely kind and encouraging. Spanish will never flow easily off my tongue, but at least I’m much more comfortable with the vocabulary.

Afterward, Ant, Gael, and I send Yaya and Abuela to the living room, declaring we will be doing the cleaning up. Abuela comes over and gestures for me to lean down so she can give me a kiss on the cheek. Grandma kisses are the best stuff on earth.

Ant and I take care of the dishes while Gael clears the table and wipes down the countertops. When he goes to take out the trash, Ant turns to me with a hand on his hip.

“Yes?” I ask, amused and pretty sure I know what he’s about to say.

“You didn’t say it back.”

Called it.

“Didn’t say what back?” I ask, grinning like a jackass.

“You know.”

“I do know. But that’s not the kind of thing you blurt out at a table or say in a kitchen with water spots on your shirt. You say it privately, over a romantic dinner. You give it a sense of occasion.”

Narrowing his eyes, Ant bites back a smile as he mutters, “You jack—”

He stops mid-sentence, his eyes widening as they track to the front of the house.

“Gael!” he screams at the top of his lungs, grabbing Abuela’s good kitchen knife before running flat out.

With no idea what’s happening, I grab a couple of knives and shout for Javier. By the time I turn to follow, Ant is at the front door. I look through the big picture window as two men put their hands on Gael.

Javier comes pounding down the steps, gun in hand. By the time we make it out the door, the men are already shoving Gael into a waiting truck.

Gael regularly joins Ant in the self-defense classes he takes with Bram and Levy, and I can see it in how hard he’s fighting back. Ant throws his knife, hitting one of Gael’s assailants in the neck. It slows him down, and Gael takes the opportunity to kick the man in the knee.

Ant reaches blindly in my direction, and I put my knife in his hand. He tracks their movement, aiming for the second attacker. This time he hits his temple and the man goes down. We close the distance as Gael yanks the knife from the first attacker’s neck and draws it across his carotid artery.

Gael turns to us, stained by arterial spray and looking scared as hell. Just as he steps toward us, a burly arm reaches out from the driver’s seat and pulls him into the truck as it begins to roll. Terror fills Gael’s eyes, spiking my pulse. Ant rips the knife from his second victim’s temple and takes off, with Javier and me hot on his heels.

We watch, half horrified, half impressed, as Ant practically throws himself at the tailgate, climbing quickly as the old truck picks up speed.

Javier and I are still running as fast as we can when Ant kicks in the little window in the back, shimmying his tiny body into the truck’s cab. The truck, now two blocks ahead of us, immediately slows and swerves.

The sound of an approaching vehicle from behind has Javier and me spinning around, guns ready. It’s Emil, driving Gael’s baby SUV. I jump into the passenger seat, nearly conking my head as Javier scrambles in the back. Emil takes off before Javier even closes the door.

The truck in front of us is lurching forward unevenly, and we can only see flashes of flailing limbs through the small window. Ant and Gael are no doubt in an epic battle with the guy, but the blackout window tint prevents us from seeing what’s happening. We catch up to them within seconds, rapidly leaving the settlement behind as we head toward the feeder road.

“Your backpacks are there,” Emil says, gesturing next to Javier as he swerves around a guy on a horse.

The truck jerks to the right and slows again as the passenger side door opens, and Gael is shoved onto the street, bloodied and unconscious.

Ant starts climbing out after him, even as the truck rolls forward. He’s dragging a foot on the pavement when he’s snatched back, and the truck takes off again.

Emil pulls over to the side of the road and hops out. “Leave me with Gael. Go! Go get Ant!” he shouts.

Javier jumps into the driver’s seat and stomps on the gas.

“This is my fault,” he mutters, dodging a pothole and speeding so fast the small engine whines. “They know where I live because I used to sell their skunk weed and thought I was cool doing it.”

I shake my head. “Hey, there’s no time for that. Stay in the game. We just blew their biggest asset sky-high. We endangered the family by coming here. I should’ve known better.”

Javier and I share an awful look as a call comes in on his cell. It’s Emil, and Javier puts him on speaker.

“It’s not his blood. He’s conscious, but…”

Emil’s words cut off as Gael throws up his breakfast. His heaving sobs wreck me, and he’s inconsolable as he tries to put together the words to explain his fear and grief.

“Same people…going to torture him…revenge…”

Emil’s voice is strong and gentle. “Gael, mijo, you did everything you could.”

Gael’s sobbing gives way to hitching words. “They thought I was…Ant. That’s why…they grabbed me. They were…they were….telling me all the terrible things they were…going to do to me, and I realized…” Tears overwhelm him again. “Those were things they’ve already done to him.”

Bile rises in my throat as he haltingly continues, “I knew, but I didn’t know. I didn’t understand, Erik. I—I sliced off half the driver’s hand, but he got the knife away from me. He was going to stab me, but Ant kicked in the window and then started punching him in the ribs. When the guy slowed down, Ant pushed me out of the car. He said he would die before he let them touch me.”

“Okay, y’all. Hang tight. Ant knows how to handle himself, and I’m about to call in the big guns,” I promise as I pull my phone from my back pocket, hitting the one number I know will get a response.

I nearly sob with relief when Anders’ voice comes on the line. “This is the Bat Phone.”

“Anders, it’s Erik.”

“Fuck. Where do you need us?”

“I’m in Guanajuato. They’ve taken Ant. He’s wearing the tennis shoes. Send everyone.”

Anders, who’s always good for a joke, has only steel in his voice. “Roger that. You got comms?”

“Yeah. Gimme a sec.”

Ant makes fun of me for being so meticulous and having a special pocket for everything, but he’ll have to eat his words when I replace the case that holds our comms earbuds within a few seconds. I pinch out one of the small devices and insert it into my ear canal.

I then dig out the other earbud and shove it into Javier’s ear as he makes a Tokyo Drift-style turn on the highway.

“Anders, switching now,” I say into the cell phone before hanging up. After a beat, I tap the earbud and ask, “Anders, Javier—can you hear me?”

Javier sends me a thumbs-up, and Anders answers, “Loud and clear. I’ve got Jake coordinating with Ryder on the tracking and satellite imagery. He’ll have more access.”

“Hopper. I want you to call Hopper,” I choke out, murderous intent rising in my throat.

“You got it. Team’s already alerted. Best of the best coming your way.”

I fist my hands, cursing as the truck gets farther and farther away. I pound the dash, willing this damned tiny SUV to speed up.

“Cousin,” Anders says, his voice steady and sure.

Fuck. I need to think, to organize, to get going. How do I save him?

Anders softens his voice. “We’ll get him, Erik. Then we’ll make them pay.”

“Hurry,” I choke out.

“I’ll be back on in a minute.”

Anders drops off the line, and I refocus on Javier, who still has the call going with Gael and Emil.

“He’s got an entire army coming. They won’t get far,” Javier says with confidence.

Anders comes back on the comms. “We’ve got him, E. We’ve got Ryder tracking his location, and they’re heading toward San Miguel Allende. Do you think—”

“I don’t know.” We temporarily lose sight of him as the truck goes over a hill. “Javier was pretty convinced they knew where to replace us because of his association, but Grandpa Allende may have given him up.”

“That’s good either way. Means you—and, more importantly, Ant—already know these people, which will give us an advantage. For instance, this syndicate—do they have headquarters in San Miguel, or—”

Javier cuts Anders off. “They’re going to the Allende compound.”

“Then that’s where we’re going,” I say, more confident than I feel.

Anders, who, from the sound of it, has been multitasking this whole time, is suddenly very serious. “Look, cousin, we might not get there in time. Does Ant have any way of defending himself?”

“I don’t know if he still has his knife or not. We’re not too far behind him,” I say, trying to stay focused and not go into any nightmare scenarios.

“He does,” Gael says, his voice thin over the speakerphone. “He still has his knife.”

“Then why isn’t he using it?” Javier asks as the truck disappears over another hill, this one farther away.

Goddammit, Ant.

I let out a long breath, then bang my head on the dash.

“Cousin, what’s that noise?” Anders asks, rightly concerned.

“I just figured out Ant’s play,” I say, not sure if I want to laugh or scream.

“And what’s that?” Javier asks, fear in his eyes and sweat on his brow.

“He’s letting the driver take him in so he can go after his grandfather.”

Gael’s tinny curses vibrate the insufficient speakers on Javier’s phone.

Javier creases his brows. “But there’s going to be guards. Lots of guards.”

“Yeah. He’ll take out the guards first,” I say, resigned.

Anders chuckles. “That’s our little murder buddy. Send me the address. I’ll have them put a satellite on it.”

“Can he do that?” Gael asks quietly, his voice barely audible. “Can Ant take out all those men?”

I let out a pained laugh, running my hand over my forehead. “I wouldn’t bet against him.”