Claimed by 3 Mountain Men (Silver Ridge Mountain Men)

17. Mac

17

MAC

I wake up to a dull, throbbing pain in my leg, the kind that makes you want to curl up and disappear back into sleep. But the ache is too persistent to ignore and drags me out of the comforting darkness.

My eyes flutter open, and for a moment, all I can see is a blur of soft, muted colors—shades of gray, brown, and white blending together in a haze.

As the world sharpens into focus, I realize I’m lying on a bed, the softest bed I’ve ever slept on. The sheets are cool and smooth against my skin and smell faintly of lavender. The room around me is large and luxurious, the kind of space that belongs in a magazine. The walls are paneled in rich, dark wood, the kind that’s been polished.

This obviously isn’t the hotel.

I try to sit up, but the moment I move, a sharp pain shoots through my leg, making me gasp. My hand instinctively flies to the source of the pain, and I feel the thick bandages wrapped around my ankle, the memory of what happened crashes back into me with the force of a tidal wave.

The trap. The woods. The lynx.

I remember stumbling through the darkness, following the tracks, and then the ground giving way beneath me. The cold, cruel metal teeth of the trap biting into my flesh, the panic that had gripped me when I realized I was trapped alone, in the middle of nowhere. And then… JT.

He found me. He pulled me out, saved me.

I collapse back into the bed, staring at the ceiling.

Holy shit.

I need to get up.

I gingerly swing my legs over the side of the bed, biting back a wince as the movement sends another wave of pain through me. I plant my good foot on the floor, the cold wood sending a shock up my spine, and try to stand. My balance wavers, my vision swims for a moment, but I force myself to stay upright, to take a shaky step forward.

I take another step, the room tilts, the pain in my leg flaring up so intensely that I have to grab onto the bedpost to keep from falling. I close my eyes, and force myself to take deep, steadying breaths.

“Not good.” I mutter to myself, I can’t exactly investigate anything like this. The thought of being stuck in bed, helpless, while out there, somewhere, the lynx is so close and the person laying the traps is even closer.

I need crutches. Or a wheelchair. Or a freaking helicopter to airlift me out of here.

The door creaks open ever so slightly, and a pair of gorgeous eyes peers in, followed by the rest of Ben. He’s holding a tray of food, his face morphing from concern to relief when he sees me.

“Hey, you’re awake!” he says, a smile stretching across his face. “You had us worried there for a sec.” He sets the tray down on the nightstand and rushes over, helping me back onto the bed. “Hey there, slow down, cowgirl. You’re not exactly in any shape to be gallivanting around just yet.”

I frown.

“What the hell happened?” I ask. Thankfully it’s him and not one of the others. They’re all hotheads, but there’s a sweetness to Ben the others lack.

“I want to ask you the same thing. We all do.”

I chew on my bottom lip. Am I stuck here? What if it’s their trap and now that I’ve discovered it, they won’t let me leave? He senses my hesitation and reaches for the tray.

“I got you some pain meds and antibiotics,” he says, handing me a glass of water and a few pills. “Take it. You need to rest.”

I swallow the pills, the bitterness barely registering as I drink the water.

“I need to get out of here,” I say, my voice firm, my mind made up.

“Mac, you can’t just up and leave. The trap nearly took your damn leg off!”

I bristle at the memory. It hurt like a bitch, and it will hurt worse once the painkillers wear off.

“I’ve got a job to do,” I say, gritting my teeth as I clench my fist.

“And what? Risk getting yourself killed?”

“I found it,” I blurt out. “I finally found the silver lynx,” I admit. “And someone here is laying serious traps for it.”

Ben’s expression darkens, his jaw clenching.

“Jesus, Mac, you could have been killed,” he says, running a hand through his hair.

“I know. I was caught, remember?”

Ben sighs, his shoulders slumping forward.

“Damn it, Mac. You don’t know how glad I am that JT found you when he did. He carried you back here, by the way. Wouldn’t let any of us help.”

The memory of being cradled in JT’s arms, his arms like steel around me, flashes through my mind, and I feel the heat creeping onto my cheeks. I clear my throat, trying to refocus the conversation.

“Who does the trap belong to?” I ask him. “Who put that trap there, Ben?” Before he answers, the other two idiots appear behind him like phantoms.

Gorgeous, tall, muscle bound idiots. They’re both dressed in worn jackets and dirty jeans from working outside all morning.

“What are you two doing?” Hank asks, his voice hard as granite.

“We need you outside right now, Ben,” JT says on top of him.

“I told you I was going to check on her,” Ben shoots back, turning to glare at Hank.

“Gentlemen,” I interrupt, putting a hand up. “Let’s not turn this into a pissing contest, alright?”

They all stare at me, jaws clenched, but they don’t say anything else.

“The trap?” I ask again, steeling myself for the answer.

Ben sighed. “We don’t know.”

“I don’t know if I believe you.”

“Of course you don’t,” Hank mutters, crossing his thick arms over his chest.

“Can all of this wait for a bit?” Ben starts. “You need to rest and heal, otherwise you won’t be any good, to us or yourself.”

“How long?” I ask.

“A few days, at least,” JT says firmly.

I groan, it’s not what I want to hear, but I know they’re right. “Fine. But I’m not going to just sit here and do nothing.”

“Oh. Yes. That is exactly what you are going to do,” JT says flatly. His eyes darken at those words as he steps forward.

“Like hell I am!” I snap back, my fists clenching at my sides.

“You listen here, princess—” Hank starts to say, but I cut him off with a glare that could stop a bear in its tracks.

“My name is Mac,” I say through gritted teeth. “And I don’t care if I’m in your territory. I’m not going to sit here and twiddle my damn thumbs while my job and my life’s work is out there!”

“You nearly lost your damn leg out there, and you’re already planning your next stunt?” Hank spits out.

“I have a job to do, and I’m not quitting now!”

“We understand that, Mac, but you need to rest,” Ben interjects.

“No,” I say, shaking my head.

“No, what?” JT growls.

“No, I’m not going to sit around and do nothing while whoever set that trap is still out there. The three of you are more worried about me causing problems than someone running around your property, trying to trap animals? Sounds fishy as hell.”

“You have no other choice,” Hank growls.

“Watch me,” I say, my rallying cry as I push myself off the bed, and promptly fall forward, face first.

JT catches me seconds before my face hits the hardwood. His hands grab either side of my shoulders, lifting me upwards.

“God, you’re stubborn,” he mutters.

“As soon as I can walk, I’m out of here,” I mutter.

“We’ll see about that,” JT says. There's a dangerous glint in his eyes, and it's then that I realize that I might just have bitten off more than I can chew.

“What am I supposed to do? Just lay in your bed?”

“Yes. That’s exactly it.”

I glower, pouting like a child as I am set back down on the bed.

“You’re as stubborn as a mule,” Hank mutters, shaking his head.

“And you’re as charming as a rattlesnake,” I retort.

He growls, and I think for a moment he might actually throttle me, but Ben steps in, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Come on. Let’s go downstairs, finish up outside and everyone just shut the hell up for five minutes.”

“Fine by me,” JT grumbles, shouldering both his brothers on the way out. Hank shakes his head, trailing behind him.

Ben lowers his gaze.

“You really need to rest, alright? I’ll try and help you as much as I can, but just please—get the hell better, Mac.”

The next three days blur together; a mix of pain, rest, and long hours spent staring out at the forest from the safety of the master bedroom. JT insisted I stay in his room, saying it was the only place big enough, and comfortable enough for me to recover. But it doesn’t feel like an act of kindness—it feels more like he’s keeping me under his watchful eye, like I’m a suspect under house arrest.

And maybe I am.

JT hasn’t said much to me since he saved me, but the tension between us is as thick as the morning fog that rolls in over the mountains. I often catch him watching me, his gaze hard and unreadable, like he’s waiting for me to slip up, to reveal some hidden agenda. But he’s not the only one with doubts. I can’t help but wonder what he’s hiding. What he’s not telling me about his family, and their business.

I even told them about how I found the footage of the lynx, but when I tried to show them, I discovered my laptop had broken from falling with me that night.

Now, I had to get that repaired before anyone would believe me.

They had a doctor come in from town and look me over, only to marvel over JT’s stitching job.

Hank’s been distant too, though I can tell he’s worried about me. He’s checked in a few times, offering me food, asking how I’m feeling, but there’s a stiffness to him, a reluctance to get too close. Maybe it’s guilt—guilt over what happened in the woods, and over the way he treated me before. Or maybe it’s something else, something neither of us is ready to confront.

I mean our last interaction was fucking in the hotel room.

As for Ben, he’s the only one who’s been civil, bringing me meals, helping me to the shower and talking to me to ebb the boredom. His deep, soothing voice, a balm to my frayed nerves.

Today, however, is different.

Today, I can stand on my own two feet, albeit with a crutch, and I can feel the itch to get back out there, to finish the job that had brought me here in the first place.

I need to get out of this house and away from them.

I’m getting dressed in some of JT’s old clothes—flannels and sweats, doubled tied and rolled over to stay up but they’ll do—when Ben knocks on the door.

“You decent?” he calls out.

“Yup,” I say, winding the last pieces of my braid.

The door creaks open, and Ben peers inside, eyes wide. He’s got a thin, old t-shirt on that does little to hide the fine lines of muscle and meat on his massive frame. His work pants hang at his waist, cinched by a tool belt. He fixes the backwards baseball hat on his head.

“You’re up and moving.”

“Sort of,” I mutter, ignoring the dull ache.

“And where are you headed off to?”

“Out,” I say, waving my hand vaguely.

”You’re not supposed to be on your feet, Mac.”

“I’m fine, Ben. I just need some air, alright?”

“Alright, alright. But if JT finds out?—”

“He won’t find out.”

“You sure about that?” he shoots me a look.

“Am I being held prisoner?”

“No,” he holds up his hands defensively. “But you are a terrible liar, and we don’t trust you to just leave. We need to figure out who set the trap before you run off to the conservatory and tell them what happened.”

I ignore him, limp my way down the stairs, and out the front door.

The crisp mountain air hits me like a slap, and I close my eyes, inhaling the scent of pine, and of the forest, feeling more alive than I have in days.

And that’s when I see him, JT, coming out of the barn, shirtless, abs rippling under the morning, autumn light. My breath catches in my throat, and I swear under my breath.

Why are they all built like Greek statues?

“Morning, sunshine,” he drawls, smirking as he rakes his eyes over me.

“Morning, JT,” I mumble, averting my gaze.

“Thought I told you to rest.”

“I am resting. Outside.”

He crosses his arms over his broad chest, a sardonic eyebrow raised.

“You’re not ready to be out there alone.”

“I never said I was going alone,” I retort back.

“Oh, you didn’t? Who’s going with you, then? Your trusted sidekick Ben?”

“Yeah,” I say, glancing over my shoulder to see Ben did not follow me outside.

“Where is he?”

“Getting ready.”

“You’re a terrible liar.”

“Not the first time I’ve been told that today.”

He points to the front door.

“Get your ass inside before you sneak off and fall into another trap.”

“What if I want to leave the lodge and go into town?”

“Someone can drive you in, and when you’re ready to leave Silver Ridge, well, I’ll drive your pretty ass to the airport myself.”

“You’re really off my Christmas card list, you know that, right?”

“Already struck off,” he deadpans, but I can see the amusement in his eyes, the tension between us, if only for a moment, eases.

“Fine, you win,” I grumble, and reluctantly hobble my way back inside to find Ben sitting on the massive leather couch, watching me with a smug grin.

“How’d it go?”

“Are you still up for helping me?” I ask. “Like before?”

Ben tilts his head, watching me with a slow steady gaze. “That sounds like a loaded question.”

My cheeks burn at his remark.

“I mean by tracking the lynx, you ass!”

“Oh, of course,” he grins wolfishly. “I’d be happy to help you. I want to prove that we’re not the ones doing this. I want to help you find the truth.”

“Really?” I say slowly.

“Of course, Mac. We can head out this evening after dinner, but I have chores to finish up and you've put enough weight on your leg for the day.”

The afternoon drifts by in a slow, hazy blur. I spend most of it in the lodge, trying to keep off my leg and mentally preparing myself for the evening ahead.

As the sun begins its slow descent behind the mountains, casting long, golden shadows across the landscape, Ben and I finally start gearing up to head back out. The plan is to set up the equipment I still have and use some of Ben’s trail cams to fill in the gaps. It’s not a perfect solution, but it’s something, and right now, it was better than nothing.

Ben is in the barn, pulling out some of his hunting gear while I linger near the porch, adjusting the straps on my backpack and trying not to think too much about the fact that we’re about to head back into the same woods where I nearly lost my life. I glance up at the sky, watching as the last rays of sunlight dip below the horizon, and the first stars begin to flicker to life.

“You sure you’re up for this?” Ben asks as he approaches me, wearing a worn jean jacket with a gray flannel underneath.

“It’s going to take a lot more than a leg injury to stop me,” I say flippantly.

He smiles, and I catch a glimpse of the same charming twinkle in his eyes that I saw when I first met all three brothers together at the bar.

“You got a plan?” he asks.

“You know I always do.” I clear my throat, leaning against the porch railing for balance. “We’re already covering a decent amount of ground with the cameras we’ve got,” I start. My voice is steady but laced with the urgency I feel within. “But if we really want to capture something definitive, we need to think bigger.”

Ben nods, his expression serious. “What did you have in mind?”

I take a deep breath, gathering my thoughts. “The trail cams are great for catching movement, but they’re passive. We need something that’s going to actively lure whatever’s out there to come closer to our cameras.”

“A bait station?” Ben suggests, raising an eyebrow.

“Exactly,” I say, glad he’s on the same page. “But not just any bait. It has to be something that would draw in predators—the kind that might be interested in what’s happening around here. Something that would attract poachers, too.”

Ben’s brow furrows in thought. “You’re thinking something that mimics a kill?”

“Precisely,” I reply, nodding. “If we can set up a site that looks like it’s recently been hit, with a fresh kill or something that smells like it, we might be able to draw in whatever—or whomever—has been setting these traps.”

Ben leans back against the railing, considering the plan. “We could use some of the wild fish I’ve caught or something like it. We’d need to scatter it strategically, though. Make it look natural, like something a predator dragged in.”

I nod, feeling a spark of excitement. “And we’ll place the cameras in a wide perimeter around the site, to cover every angle. That way, no matter which direction they approach from, we’ll get it on camera.” I toy with my braid. “I’ve got a pretty good idea of where this thing likes to hang out, and whoever set that trap does too.”

Ben seems to like the idea, he nods in agreement, a thoughtful look crossing his features. “We’ll need to be careful about the placement though. If we’re too obvious, whoever’s doing this might catch on and avoid the area completely.”

“Agreed,” I say. “We’ll set up the cameras at a higher vantage point, and make sure to hide them in the trees. That way, they won’t be easily spotted, and we’ll have a better view of the entire site.”

Ben nods, tapping a spot on the map where the forest is particularly dense. “Here. This area has good cover, and there’s a natural clearing nearby that could work for the bait station. It’s far enough from the main trails that it won’t be stumbled upon by accident, but close enough to known poaching areas to attract the right attention.”

“That’s perfect.”

Ben looks at me, his hazel eyes searching mine. “You realize this could be really dangerous, right? If we’re dealing with poachers, they’re not going to take kindly to being caught on camera.”

“I know,” I say quietly, meeting his gaze. “But this might be our only chance to get the evidence we need. It’s a risk worth taking.”

I can feel the heat of his gaze on me, his eyes flicker between mine and my lips, and suddenly, the air outside feels a little too thick. My heart skips a beat as Ben moves just a fraction closer, his hand brushing lightly against mine. There’s a tension there, something simmering just beneath the surface, and for a split second, I forget about the plan, the danger, and the uncertainty of everything.

All I can think about is how close he is and how much I missed kissing and touching the brothers.

And then, before I can even process it, he leans in, his eyes locking onto mine as if he’s searching for something—permission, maybe, or just a sign that I’m feeling the same thing he is.

“Mac…” he murmurs, his voice is soft, almost hesitant, as if he’s not quite sure where this is going but is willing to take the leap anyway.

Just as he starts to close the distance between us, the patio door swings open with a loud creak, and we both jerk back as if we’ve been caught doing something we shouldn’t. Hank stands in the doorway, his eyes narrowing as he takes in the scene, his expression a mix of confusion and something else—anger, maybe, or suspicion.

“What the hell is going on here?”

Ben straightens up, running a hand through his hair as if to shake off whatever just happened. “We’re just discussing the plan,” he says, his tone is neutral, but I can tell he’s rattled by Hank’s sudden appearance.

Hank’s eyes narrow even further. “Doesn’t look like just a discussion to me.”

I feel my cheeks flush, and I quickly look down at the ground, trying to gather my thoughts, and figure out how best to diffuse the situation. “We were talking about how to set up the cameras,” I say, forcing my voice to stay steady. “Ben was just… helping me figure out the logistics.”

Hank doesn’t look convinced, but he doesn’t press the issue either. Instead, he steps out onto the porch, and crosses his arms. “So what’s the plan, then?”

“You want to help?” I ask in a tight voice.

He shrugs. “Sure as shit not going to let Ben run off alone with you and have all the fun.”

I blush, feeling the heat creep up my cheeks.

“Well, then, if you’re coming along, you might as well strap in, because it’s going to be a long night.”

“My favorite kind,” he replies with a smirk.