King's Ranch Series Book 3: What It Takes

POV: AMARI

A clinical, jagged dread vibrates through my chest as I haunt the sterile halls of the Emergency Room, desperate for an update on Candace. My mind is a wreckage of flashing memories: Zach’s death, the clinical blow of Hadley and Cody’s accident, the attempted snatch of the boy, and now Candace lost in a kidnapping that siphoned her memories. I’m at my wits’ end, our perimeter wearing thin as we struggle to hold the line against the shadows.

The silence here is a heavy, toxic thing, broken only by the mechanical drone of the vending machines and the muted, clinical murmurs of the staff. My fingers tangle in my dark curls, pulling tight as I reflect on the wreckage of these past months. It’s staggering that a woman who breached family core a mere eight weeks ago has become the very axis my family turns on. Candace went far beyond her job as a nurse for my secret love, Hadley, and my godson, Cody; she became their anchor. In her eyes, there is no stinging bite of pity—only a fierce, quiet strength that pulled them both into comas. In an eye-blink, she wasn’t just a caregiver; she was ours.

The clinical, toxic loop of my thoughts is severed by a nurse navigating toward my perimeter. She offers a measuring, cautious nod—a mask of professional restraint I’ve deployed countless times myself during my years as an EMT. She was the anchor who received the gurney when I delivered Candace to this wing. I suspect my sudden, jagged arrival at their doorstep left her vibrating with a shock of her own.

“How you holding up?” She asks, hands behind her back and taking inventory of my appearance.

“Waiting and hoping that our friend is alright.”

“She is a tough one, that one. I am sure she will pull through with shock and awe.”

I offer a dry, huff of a laugh. “I sure hope so.”

Candace is a warrior for her own, yet now she’s locked in a silent gauntlet against the shadows stealing her identity. Meanwhile, I’m vibrating with a different kind of tension, waiting for Anthony Bianchi’s syndicate to signal their next move of vengeance in this war against the Franco Giocolano’s syndicate: a war that became ours. I can’t decide which is more agonizing: the clinical wait for a medical verdict or the toxic silence of my burner phone. This is the reality of our lives now—trapped in the crossfire of a syndicate war, nothing more than disposable pawns in a game of titans. I never imagined the hot zone would follow the mission home to American soil.

The nurse catches me searching the phone once more, a measuring brow raised in a silent query. “Has the department initialized a report?”

There it is—the specific intel she was sent to retrieve. “Yes, ma’am. They have been notified. Candace is out of Spearfish; detectives on her case were immediately notified. I’m expecting a few ghosts in blue to haunt this wing shortly.”

She offers a rhythmic nod, her focus sharpening as she chews her lip, lost in thought. “Good to know. Do you know what happened to her?”

Now those details I don’t feel like she earned. Do I tell her that she was kidnapped and escaped her captors by falling out of a two-story window? Who knows if Franco has his claws in anyone here. For Candace’s safety, I find it best to keep my cards close to my chest.

“No ma’am. I was hoping to obtain those details when I found her.” Safe response, vague enough to be believable.

“Okay, thank you.” She offers a soft smile and returns to the nurses’ station, sending me back into my spiraling thoughts once more.

What is Franco’s real play here? This blood feud between Giocolano and Bianchi runs deeper than a simple rivalry; they’re invasive, poisonous weeds choking the life out of everything they touch. Are we just collateral on their board? Why target King’s Ranch? Why tear into the PBR organization? David had his ties, sure, but why does Franco keep this charade active? The questions are endless, and the answers are stowed in the dark shadows.

I, for one, have had enough. Beyond everything they have done to Hadley, Cody, and Candace, they have nearly killed River Hendrix in another wreck, and even gone after the King’s Ranch livestock at the PBR match. They’re like a Lernaean Hydra—sever one head, and two more snap at your heels. We have to find the heart of this beast and burn it out. My gut tells me Franco isn’t the true architect anymore; there’s a ghost in the machine, something more clinical and sociopathic pulling the strings. Whoever is hiding in those shadows, I’m dragging them into the light.

I’ve signaled my brothers and sisters-in-arms to hold the line at Donovan’s while I’m tied to this waiting room. Trust is a rare currency these days, and I’m only spending it on the few souls I’d trust with my life. Trying to shield Hadley and Cody from the storm surrounding Candace is a constant tightrope walk. They sense the void Candace left, but I have to keep them steady—their recovery depends on a peace I can barely provide.

Thank God our unit mobilized here. Hadley and I have been through two deployments in the Middle East with this team; we know how to hunt. We’re running shifts, gathering intel, and blending our skills with the King’s Ranch crew. It’s the only way we stay one step ahead of the reaper.

Right now, Jack Jenson is handling the Bianchi line. I met him at the hospital where my family is; he’s sharp, but there is a darkness in him I haven’t mapped yet—the kind of haunted look that only comes from memories you can’t outrun. One soldier recognizes the PTSD in another; it’s a language written in the eyes. I’m betting his search for redemption gives us the edge we need to flip the script. I’m keeping him close, but I’ve got Gadget, my tech specialist, digging into his history.

Movement catches my eye: a rugged, older man with the kind of tan that takes decades to earn. He’s clutching a cowboy hat, his hands scarred and steady as he rakes them through salt-and-pepper hair. He approaches the desk, his voice low as he asks for Candace. I stand, recognizing the quiet authority of the man they call ‘Pa.’ The nurse repeats the same hollow updates I’ve been hearing, and he nods, a picture of polite restraint.

“William?” I ask. He turns, offering a measuring, courteous look.

“Amari, I assume?”

“That’s me, sir.”

“Is there anything the staff ain’t telling us?” He knows the drill—without a blood tie, he’s on the outside looking in.

“I found her face down in a snowbank during that whiteout, still in her scrubs from the shift. It was a grim sight—her leg was at an unnatural angle, and her head had taken a brutal strike. Between the hypothermia and the concussion, she’s in for a hard recovery. I didn’t wait for an ambulance; I moved her myself. When she broke the darkness for a second, she didn’t know me, didn’t know River—she was just lost in a fog before slipping under again. We got her onto a gurney as soon as we arrived, and it’s been a waiting game ever since. I haven’t heard any more since then.”

“I appreciate it. Call me Pa; everyone does. Candace talked about your family with such warmth—she’s got a real soft spot for Cody. It means a hell of a lot that you went out into that blizzard to bring her in.”

“She’s family to us now, sir. We don’t leave our own behind.”

“Military background?” Pa’s eyes sharpen, taking my measure with renewed interest.

“Yes, sir. Army Medic, Sergeant First Class. I served under Hadley; she was my Master Sergeant when we were downrange in the Middle East.” He gives a slow, thoughtful nod of respect.

“Thank you for what you did over there, Amari. And you’re working as an EMT now?”

“Yes, sir. After I processed out, I stayed in the field back where Zach and I grew up. Zach was Hadley’s husband.”

“Some people are just born to serve, I suppose. It’s honorable work.” I give him a tight smile and a nod, that familiar awkwardness rising. “I’d like to meet Hadley and the boy when this settles. They sound like good people. Wish it wasn’t under a cloud like this.”

“I think they’d like that. They’ve already claimed Candace as one of their own, and they don’t let people past the perimeter easily.”

“How much do you know about the trouble we’re in?” He’s cautious, choosing his words like he’s walking a minefield.

“I have enough to be worried, sir, but the picture is still a clinical blur. Once Candace is on solid ground, we need to sit down and pool our intel. It’s the only way we get a jump on the... mess.” I catch myself before swearing in the middle of a hospital, which earns a dry chuckle from Pa.

“‘Mess’ is a polite way to put it, Amari. You’re right. When are they releasing Hadley and Cody?”

“If the clinical tests stay clear, maybe by the weekend. Cody’s ready now, but Hadley wanted him in her sight. They’ve got them in a shared room now that she’s stable.”

“Is the perimeter secure for them once released?”

“They have the house, but in this climate? It’s a soft target.”

“We’ve turned the ranch into something that’d give Fort Knox a run for its money,” Pa says with a grin. “Cas has been thorough—flushed out David’s old crew and locked the place down tight. We’ve got spare cabins and room in the main house. The offer is on the table for all of you until the air clears.”

I’m staggered. A stranger offering my family a home? I probably look like a fish out of water, mouth open and eyes wide.

“Close your mouth, Amari.” Pa doesn’t hide the humor in his eyes. “No pressure, but we’d be glad to have you. The boy would have a field day with the animals—Sydnee’s got horses and dogs that’d keep him busy for months. And Ashton’s always at the arena if the kid wants to see a show.” There’s a warmth in his eyes when he talks about his family that you can’t fake.

I’m searching for the words. It’s the perfect solution, except for one thing.

“I appreciate that, sir, more than I can say. But I’ve got my unit with me—friends from the service helping with security. I can’t leave them in the cold.”

“Then bring ’em along. We’ve got the space since a few of the old hands decided to disappear once we started digging. The more boots on the ground, the better.”

This feels like a fever dream—the part where a man with a heart of gold appears just when the shadows are closing in. It’s almost too good to be true.

Pa adds, “Cas will need to run his diagnostics, of course, but if they’re clean, the doors are open.” I can’t argue with that; I’d do the same. Thank God for Gadget’s background-check software.

“Thank you, sir. Truly.” I take a breath. “Let me talk to Hadley and the team. This could be exactly what we all need.” Security like that is something I can’t afford on my own right now. King’s Ranch might be our only real shot at safety.

“Works for me.” Pa’s attention shifts toward the sliding doors as a couple rushes in.

They look to be about Pa’s age, weathered and worn. The woman is layered against the cold, her face a map of exhaustion and grief, eyes raw from hours of tears. The man beside her looks hollowed out, his round glasses slipping down a tired face.

“Carter, Rena,” Pa says, stepping forward to offer a heavy hug to the woman and a firm grip to the man. “I’m so sorry she’s going through this. Tell me what you need.” The woman collapses into him, her sobs echoing in the quiet room, while the man stands there, paralyzed by the shock. These have to be Candace’s parents. God, give them a break.

I can’t help but wonder when this psychological hurricane will pass, or if the dark will take no prisoners?