A thrill wound through her. She was holding the deed to her land. Her name was spelled out along with the amount Steele had been asking paid in full. How had this happened? And how had Flynn gotten a hold of it?

When she glanced up at Flynn, she waited for him to jerk the deed out of her hands and tell her there was no way—not in a hundred years—he was gonna let her go off and live on her own, that there was no way she could take the deed.

But he only pressed his lips together as if he was using every ounce of restraint not to say the words.

She looked to Brody, and his eyes said he knew something she didn’t.

Her sights shifted to the sheet again, and her heart thudded a strangely uneven beat. What did all this mean? Clearly, Jericho wanted her to stay. That meant he intended to return to her after he delivered Otis to prison, didn’t it?

“Jericho sent me a message.” Flynn’s voice dropped low, and Ivy’s stomach dropped with it. “He said as long as we agree to letting you have your own place, he’ll keep away.”

“What?” The ache in her chest swelled.

Flynn removed another paper from his pocket and handed it to her.

She unfolded it and saw that Jericho’s neat handwriting took up two brief lines: We all agree she’ll be safest if she’s nowhere near me. Let her have the land for her own ranch, and I promise I won’t come back.

Chapter
26

Jericho didn’t want her. Ivy crumpled his note, tossed it to the floor, then slumped against the mattress, the air squeezing from her lungs just as if she’d been thrown from her mount and grassed.

She oughta be thankful she had the deed to the land. And she oughta be thankful her brothers wouldn’t be able to oppose her starting her own place. She’d known they’d give her a heap of trouble once she told them her plans, but she’d decided not to think about it until she actually had the land.

And now she did. Somehow Jericho had found a way to purchase it for her. Maybe he’d used part of the gold they’d found after all? Whatever the case, he’d sent her a message that was mighty loud. In fact, it was deafening.

He didn’t want her chasing after him to Chicago. He wanted her to live here. And he wasn’t aiming to come back. Ever. He’d made a promise he wouldn’t.

He’d chosen his work over her. She knew that wasn’t an entirely fair accusation. He was doing something mighty fine with his hunting of criminals. But still . . . it hurt.