Savior Complex: An MM Age Gap Romance (Wild Heart Ranch Book 3)
Savior Complex: Chapter 15

It’s Friday evening, and this is the first time all week I’ve been to the bunkhouse, save for packing a quick bag. After taking off the first part of the week, I’ve had a packed schedule through today.

Javier’s been taking long drives with Ant and helping him with the horses. Ant’s been riding Domino around his paddock for a few days now, and Javier could not be prouder.

At the end of the day, we wait for each other to finish, then drive together back home. Even though it’s only been a few days, it feels like this little tradition. After making it down the long, winding driveway, passing through the tree line feels like passing through a portal into a distant land known only to Javier and me.

I haven’t talked to Bram about where Javier and I are at. He’s never been judgmental of my choices and will only give his opinion if he thinks I need to hear it. On this, however, he’s been surprisingly quiet.

I think he’s giving me space. My guess is he sees something special happening between Javier and me, and he doesn’t want to interfere.

After work, Javier and I use the outdoor shower as we have all week. The way we get both clean and dirty at the same time is everything.

We show up a little early for Friday dinner because the Bashes are joining us, and we want to help get the house in order. Javier’s adorably nervous about meeting the people who made Ant feel safe. Before they get here, though, I need to talk to Ant and my brother.

Bram and Nacho, however, are conspicuously absent when Ant tentatively comes up to us. “So…you two are getting pretty serious, huh?” he asks, his eyes falling to Javier’s arm around my waist.

I hadn’t even thought about it because he’s always touching me.

Grimacing, I reach out to fluff the pillows on the couch. Javier is smiling, but I’m worried I should’ve talked to Ant way before today. Rather than insulting his intelligence, I simply nod and go with the truth. “He’s a special guy.”

Ant nods, patting his uncle’s arm. “I’ve enjoyed spending this week with him. It’s been nice to work on the horses together.”

Javier shrugs. “I spent ten years trying to find you. Of course I’m going to help you with the horses.”

“He would literally do anything to make sure you’re okay. That includes stepping away from this if it bothers you,” I say, wanting to make sure he understands we’re not ignoring his feelings on the matter.

Ant and Javier roll their eyes at my concern, and Ant shakes his head. “You two getting together is the last thing that would bother me. It would bother me if you felt weird about seeing him because of me. You’ve done so much to help me feel normal, and he’s done so much to find me…I didn’t realize I could be this happy for somebody else.”

I’m relieved, of course, but that’s an interesting thing to say, so I lean into it.

“Has that been difficult for you in the past? Being happy for other people?”

He nods. “Somebody doing well while I was suffering always felt like a kick in the stomach. However, the luckier I feel, the more I want good for other people too.”

I pull him into a hug, and he wraps his arms around me. He truly is the little brother Bram and I never had.

Just as Bram and Nacho reappear, smiling at Javier and me, the doorbell goes off. Bram gives me a we’ll talk later look, and Nacho makes a filthy gesture with his fist and tongue. I shoot him the finger, and we share a chuckle.

Meanwhile, a huge smile takes over Ant’s face, and he bounds to the door. Swinging it wide, he throws himself at Papa Bash before giving Mama Bash a slightly less effusive but no less meaningful hug. Their bright faces, so full of love for Ant, hit me in the chest. I look over at Javier, and he’s watching them as he rubs his chest, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

Once Ant and the Bashes have finished greeting each other, Javier walks up to them, ducking his head.

“You are the ones who gave him a place to be, a place to recover. Thank you. Thank you so much,” he says, his eyes gone shiny. They step into his embrace, and he pulls them close for several moments.

Ant looks over at me, and I tap my chest. “You’re worth it, kid.”

He grumbles at being called a kid but comes back over and gives me a side hug as we watch Javier and the Bashes get to know each other.

The Bashes have brought several of their varietals from their vineyard, and we’re starting to migrate to the dining room when there’s a knock at the door. I get up and open it to Erik and Charlie, who are looking pretty upset about something. To be fair, Erik usually has some sort of disgruntled expression on his face, but the disquiet in Charlie’s eyes lets me know that whatever this is, it’s bad.

I usher them inside, and they stop short when they see Anja and Georg.

“We can come back,” Erik says, pivoting toward the door.

I hold up my hands, shaking my head. “I don’t think so. What’s with your faces?”

Charlie’s eyes lock on Ant. They’ve been working together on Domino, and I know Charlie has a lot of affection for him. To see him so ruffled…I’ve got a bad feeling about this.

“Ant, you’re not in trouble, but I need to know where you were on Wednesday night.”

Javier stayed with me on Wednesday night, which meant Ant was in the bunkhouse alone. His guilty look tells me I’m not going to like whatever comes next.

Actually, I wouldn’t quite describe his look as guilty. It’s more…sheepish.

“Why?” he asks, biting his thumbnail.

Charlie pulls a small oblong object wrapped in an old blue bandanna from his back pocket. Unwrapping it carefully—and without commentary—he holds up a douk-douk. An old-school pocketknife.

“Lyle Underwood found this in Domino’s stall.”

Javier inhales sharply, then focuses on Ant. “That’s one of my knives. Why does Charlie have one of my knives?”

Ant grimaces again. “Sorry. It must’ve dropped out of my pocket.”

While I’m pretty sure he actually feels bad about losing the knife, Ant still seems a little proud of himself. That’s a little disturbing to consider as Charlie gingerly opens the blade, which is coated in a near-black rust-colored red.

“Is that blood?” I ask, looking away quickly. Javier puts a protective arm around my waist as I shoot laser beams at the side of Ant’s head. He ignores me.

“Yes,” is Erik’s terse response.

Charlie lets out a long-suffering sigh. “We’re about to take this to Wimberley to get it analyzed. We’ll know by tomorrow whose blood this is, Ant. Did you kill somebody on Wednesday?”

Ant shrugs as if it’s no big deal. Bram, Nacho, and I exchange a horrified look, then round on him.

“Did you just shrug at murdering someone?” Bram asks, his tone on the razor’s edge of civil.

“Dude, what the hell?” Nacho asks, distress marring his pretty features.

Ant smiles, then shrugs again. The only people not losing their shit at this point are the Bashes, who both seem to be examining Ant with interest.

“Ant,” Anja begins, her voice gentle, her expression open. “Did you kill someone on Wednesday?”

His eyes dart to hers and soften. He nods.

“He was a bad guy.”

Everybody else starts shouting at once, and Anja holds up her hand, saving her most eviscerating look for Erik, who’s acting like the world is falling down around us. Which, to be fair, it absolutely could be.

Anja’s look, however, brooks no argument. That is some grade-A prime mom look, and it makes my chest ache a little. I spare a glance at my brother, and he’s rubbing his hand over his chest as well.

Our mom and Anja would’ve gotten on like gangbusters.

“How do you know he was a bad guy, Ant?” she prods gently.

“Elias told me. He got away when Erik and Charlie went in, but Elias knew where he’d likely gone.”

“Why didn’t he tell us?” Charlie asks, trying to mirror Anja’s calm demeanor.

“He trusted me more. I told him I’d make sure the guy was taken care of.”

“Where was this man?” Georg asks.

“Just north of San Antonio.”

Anja nods. “How did you get him?”

“I borrowed Tío’s truck,” he says, shooting a look at Javier, who rubs his forehead.

“Your uncle’s truck with the Mexican plates?” Georg verifies.

Ant nods.

“And you killed him with one of Javier’s knives?”

Charlie and Javier exchange a glance. Charlie had taken his knives and gun his first night here but gave them back when they got his dossier from Wimberley.

“I found his leather roll-up, and they were so cool. He has a few throwing knives, but I’m not very good with those. But the folding knife got the job done.”

Anja nods thoughtfully, bringing her hands together, her fingertips brushing the underside of her chin. “What did you do with the body?”

“I lured him into a hotel room, got him high, then slit his wrists.”

Javier curses under his breath, rubbing his eyebrows to disguise his response. I rub his lower back, and Erik catches the gesture.

Whatever.

“What drug did you use to get him high?” Georg asks, sounding more curious than anything.

Ant tips his head from side to side. “It was a blunt, but it was laced with hash. He got so gonged,” he says, chuckling at the memory.

“Was it your intent to make it look like a suicide?” Charlie asks, rubbing the long white scars running from wrist to inner elbow.

“Yeah.”

“What do you think the medical examiner will think when there’s no knife?” Charlie asks, keeping his voice even.

“I already thought of that. He had a knife on him, so I put it in his hand and put a little blood on the blade.”

“That was very smart, Ant,” Anja says, patting his shoulder. Erik opens his mouth, and she silences him with a look so sharp I’m surprised he doesn’t lose his eyebrows. “But we must be very specific in these instances. What was the size of his knife compared to this knife?”

Georg takes the knife from Charlie’s hands, examining it.

“It was a little smaller, but I felt like it was close enough.”

Georg looks up from the knife. “You felt like it was close enough?”

Ant shifts uncomfortably. “Uh…yeah?”

Anja joins Georg in looking over the knife. “The blood you put on the blade of the other knife…did you ensure it followed the same pattern you saw on this knife?”

“No…” he answers, hesitating. “What do you mean?”

Anja goes to the dining room, grabs the carving knife, and points at one of the roasted chickens on the table. “Bram, these are cooked to perfection. Would you mind terribly if I demonstrated to Ant by slicing through the chicken? I promise it will still be delicious.”

Bram gestures for her to continue. She slices through the chicken breast with our good carving knife and then gestures for Ant to come over.

“It is possible to very accurately determine the size of the knife based on the depth, width, and smoothness of the cut,” Anja says, pointing to the cut in the chicken and comparing it to the carving knife.

She shifts the knife under the light, continuing, “As you can see, Bram baked a delicious, moist chicken for us, and so there is a particular pattern for the juices on the blade. Very similar to what we’re seeing here on Javier’s knife.”

Grabbing a paper towel, she cleans off the carving knife, then hands it to Ant.

“Show me how you added blood to the knife.”

Ant uses one of the napkins on the table to soak up a bit of the chicken juice from the serving platter, then rubs it over the knife. Anja takes it from him, titling it under the lights.

Patting his back, she says, “You were very clever, Ant. I want you to see, however, how this is very different from the pattern we got when I ran the knife through the chicken.”

He bites his lip, nodding along. “That means they’ll know he didn’t kill himself.”

“Probably. Sometimes people miss things, and we get a little lucky, but any medical examiner worth their salt would know the smaller knife you left behind wasn’t the knife used to kill him.”

Georg speaks up. “Additionally, all hotels have cameras on the outside. If they haven’t already checked the recordings, they will the second they determine this is not a suicide. It’s very likely they’re going to see a young man in a white truck with Mexican plates. And they’re going to run those plates.”

Javier wipes his face. “Thank God they’re fake plates.”

Anja lights up and walks over to Javier, kissing his cheek. “Supert. A bit of good news. Ant, when you entered the hotel room, were you wearing anything to cover your face? A baseball cap, a hoodie, anything like that?”

He grimaces and shakes his head.

“Okay. That’s going to be a problem, but I’ll see if Anders and his friends can fix this for us.”

The rest of us are watching this like some sort of dinner theater. Erik, whose jaw is audibly creaking, finally can’t stand it for a second longer.

“So we’re not gonna talk about the fact that he fucking used himself as a decoy, drugged the man, made it look like a suicide—poorly,” he yells, gesturing broadly, “and left himself open to all manner of prosecution? Are we not gonna talk about how fucking dangerous that is? We’re not gonna talk about the fact that he has endangered not only himself but Wild Heart and probably Wimberley as well?”

Ant, who moments ago had been proud of himself, shrinks at Erik’s loud outburst. Bram and I flank him on either side, both of us putting a protective arm around his back. Erik’s not wrong, but he’s not right either.

Before either of us can say anything, however, Mama Bash puts herself directly in front of Erik, their twelve-inch height difference all but erased as she sticks her finger in his face.

“How dare you raise your voice at Ant! We do not raise our voices in the Bash family.”

Erik lets out a sharp bark. “Maybe not for you, but I was raised differently.”

She thins her lips. “I think we can both agree that my brother-in-law is an asshole and his wife is a cunt.”

Ant slaps his hand over his mouth, amusement lighting his eyes. Meanwhile, I’m trying to remember if I’ve ever heard Anja cuss. I mean…she didn’t just cuss, she went and dropped the C-bomb. Damn.

Slightly worse, Erik doesn’t deny what she’s saying. Which actually makes me feel pretty sorry for him.

Anja rubs his arm, soothing some of his ire. “I’m sorry you were raised that way, but it does not make it right. We do not yell at our loved ones,” she said, gesturing for Ant to come close.

He complies automatically. Smart, because who the hell knows what would happen if he didn’t.

She puts an arm around him protectively. “Erik, please apologize.”

Erik flinches, scratching his nose, glaring down at Ant. Anja tightens her grip, and Ant stands to his full height, not quite reaching Anja. He and Erik stare into each other’s eyes for what seems like an eternity, and we watch as Ant melts under his hot gaze. Erik looks between Anja and Ant, knowing he’s lost, and lets out a very dramatic sigh as his shoulders drop from around his ears.

“You’re right. I should not have yelled at you. I am genuinely sorry. But…can we have a serious conversation about this? You snuck on an op and killed somebody, and we never fully dealt with it.”

Georg shakes his head. “That’s not true, Erik. He’s been talking to Hedy, and he’s making progress. It’s not going to be perfect, but he’s working hard.”

Erik’s brows rise. “Not going to be perfect? I’m not asking for perfection. I’m asking for our charge to not go after serial rapists. I don’t think that’s too high an expectation.”

He’s gritting out the words to avoid yelling them, but he, like the rest of us, knows better than to go against Mama Bash.

“That’s not true,” Anja says, shaking her head.

Even Ant looks at her funny. “It’s not?”

She turns to him, cupping his face in her hands. “Most people feel awful the first time they kill someone. Many will even throw up. Did you want to throw up when you saved Erik’s life?”

He chews on his lower lip, looking at her expectantly as he shakes his head.

“This guy you killed in the hotel room. Was it difficult to draw the blade? Did it make you sad?”

He shakes his head again. “I didn’t have enough time to do what I wanted to do.”

Delicately, with full acceptance in her features, Anja then asks a question I’m not sure I want the answer to.

“Tell me the truth, Ant. Have you killed other people?”

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