Surrendered (Black Spruce Ranch #2)

Chapter 1

WAYNE

“Of course I closed it,” I brag, kicking my feet up on my desk. “This is me you're talking to. Gave them the night of their lives, showed them what American entertainment can really be like.”

Brett chuckles on the other end of the line. He’s kind of a dumbass, and only got into the firm he works at because of his dad’s connections, but he worships the ground I walk on.

“No karaoke bars?” he asks teasingly.

“Come on, they get enough of that back in Japan,” I say with a scoff. “We’re all about pleasure here, baby. I’m pretty sure that Masato guy almost had an aneurism when they—”

A soft knock, and the creak of my office door swinging open, cuts me off mid-sentence.

“Mr. Riggs?” My assistant peeks her head in, a perfect blond curl framing her face as she smiles expectantly.

She’s a picture perfect secretary, and if she wasn’t already engaged, I probably would’ve made a move on her by now.

“Mr. Jameson and the other partners asked me to have you join them in a meeting in conference room two.”

I grin. I’m ready for it. A lot of people think my methods are crazy, but they don’t succeed the way I do.

“I’ll be there,” I say, dismissing her with a wave of my hand. “Look, Brent, I have to go. I’m about to make partner, so I’ll send you an invite for the celebration.”

“Cocky bastard,” he jokes. “Call me later.”

He probably won’t make it to the guest list, if I’m being honest. It’s time to start narrowing my social circles down to people who are as successful as I am, and he just doesn’t have the kind of drive that I do.

I toss my phone down on my desk before standing and straightening my suit jacket. I know I look good, but now is a time to look perfect.

I head over to the conference room with a bounce in my step. I step into the room with a wide smile to come face-to-face with all five of the current partners. They’re all older, distinguished, the kind of business types who walk around with a stick up their ass and a fat fucking wallet.

They could use some new blood, some new energy.

“Wayne,” Mr. Jameson says, not standing from his seat at the head of his table. “Please, come in.”

He’s the original founder of the law firm I work for—serious and strict. He took a shine to me when I started interning because of my work ethic and how easily people get along with me.

“Thank you for inviting me,” I say, as I sit down and smooth my hand down the front of my jacket to ensure it stays free of creases. “I have all of the figures prepared for the Akagi deal, if you’d like to go over them.”

“That won’t be necessary,” one of the other partners, Mr. Frackett, says.

He looks annoyed, but he’s never liked me, anyway. I always thought I was too reckless and impulsive, and especially hated that he couldn’t argue with the results I got.

“Straight to business, then?” I ask, unable to hide my smile.

It’s not surprising that they’ve already looked everything over. They’re all the types to over-prepare.

“If that’s how you’d like it,” Mr. Jameson agrees, his wrinkled face creasing in a frown. “You’re fired.”

I blink in surprise at the statement. Then I choke off my laughter into my fist. God, I didn’t know these old bastards had a sense of humor.

“Do you find this funny?” Ms. Taleisin asks, disapproval sitting heavily in the crow’s feet around her eyes.

“My apologies,” I say, trying to dampen my smile. “I wasn’t expecting jokes, ma’am.”

Mr. Frackett snorts disdainfully at that, and my certainty falters when I see a hint of glee in his eyes. He’s made it no secret that he doesn’t want me as partner, but Mr. Jameson gets final say. Seeing him enjoy this is enough to give me pause.

“No one here is joking, boy,” he says harshly. “You insulted some of our most prestigious clients. A strip club? Are you nineteen? You may have lost us the entire deal.”

I look back and forth between him and Mr. Jameson in shock. There’s no way they’re actually mad about this. I mean, come on, everyone I took there was a man. Some ass shaking shouldn’t be insulting to anybody. I even took them to a tasteful place—more of a gentleman’s club than a strip joint.

“I expected better from you, Wayne,” Mr. Jameson says with a frown. “I gave you an unheard of opportunity, and you crashed and burned. This isn’t the first time you’ve rocked the boat with clients, but it will be the last. I’m not cleaning up your messes any longer. You’re out.”

Shock gives way to rage as I realize how serious they’re being, and I bolt upright from my seat. An angry scoff falls from my lips as I look at the five of them. They’re all weathered and old and starting to wither. My lip curls in disdain.

They want to fire me? Fucking fine.

They can regret it later.

“I’ll pack up my office,” I spit out.

I’m not stupid enough to say something that’ll truly burn any bridges, but they won’t get any sympathy from me.

I storm out of the boardroom, slamming the door behind me.

I take long, angry strides back toward my office.

I’ve relished this place. The massive windows overlook all of Billings.

And they’re stupid enough to kick me out of it?

I’ve made this place mine, given them everything, but all it takes is a tiny little fuckup for them to toss me to the curb.

Whatever.

It’ll be a piece of cake to get a new job. Anyone who’s anyone will take one look at my resume and beg me to join their firm.

I’ll pack up my office and go back home to my sprawling condo and make a few calls. I’ll be drinking whiskey on my couch and deciding between offers before the sun sets tonight.

But the first few calls I put in after I get home go straight to voicemail.

The next three don’t make it past a secretary.

The familiar excuse of being out of the office and an offer to take a message is all I get.

The few people who do pick up quickly find something that needs their attention and hang up on me before I can even start my winning spiel.

Even fucking Brett only gives me about five minutes of his time.

“Dude, I hate to say it, but you just became unemployable,” he tells me, bluntly. “Jameson blacklisted you everywhere in Billings. You’re fucked.”

The pity in his voice sets my teeth on edge. He’s a fucking kid, and he doesn’t know shit about actually practicing law. I hang up on him without saying goodbye, tossing my phone carelessly to the other end of the couch.

Bullshit.

All of it, fucking bullshit.

I allow myself some time to seethe, knocking back glass after glass of whiskey. I had planned to get drunk tonight, but it was supposed to be in celebration, not sitting alone on my couch with the bitter taste of anger in the back of my throat. Fuck this.

I’ll just take a vacation back home for a bit, wait for all this to blow over.

It’ll probably be awkward as hell, but Dad stopped confronting anything after Mom died. At worst, he’ll ignore me. If anyone gives me shit for how long I’ve been gone, it’ll be Jenny, but she’ll get over it quick enough.

Besides, I don’t intend to be there for long. Just long enough to get my head back on straight and find something else to do.

Someone in Billings will see sense if I give it enough time. I can be patient and take some time to regroup. It’ll be nice to see my buddies back home, and last time I talked to Jenny, she mentioned something about Dad dating someone. That’ll be a sight to see.

Decision made, I fall into bed for the night, planning to pack in the morning.

I wake up in a horrible fucking mood, and my packing mostly consists of throwing whatever clothes are closest into a duffel bag. I still have some of my old clothes at the ranch, and while I’ve put some muscle on through the years, they should still fit.

The drive back to Windy River takes a good four hours, and I spend most of it alternating between calling some old contacts in the hopes that someone has an opening for me and stewing in my own rage.

I left home before the sun was even up, not wanting to contend with rush hour traffic, but the sun is bright and right in my fucking eyes by the time I pull up to the ranch.

That old wrought-iron sign out front, with its big letters saying Black Spruce Ranch, looks just as rickety and rusted as ever, but it’s admittedly a bit nostalgic to see it again after years away.

The place is still kind of a wreck, just like the last time I was here, but it looks like they’re in the middle of some renovations right now.

I think Jenny said something about Dad revamping the place last time we talked.

Hopefully he plans to do more than just fix the fences.

Pretty much everything around here could use a facelift.

Dust flies up from the dirt road and coats the freshly waxed paint on my SUV in filth.

I pull into a random empty spot close to the walkway and wait for the dust to settle before hopping out.

I pull my duffel bag from the backseat and close the door, but before I have a chance to even start up the walkway, the front door slams open.

Jenny storms her way down the porch steps in a tank top and Care Bear pajama pants, her brown hair barely contained in a ponytail at the base of her skull. Her face is drawn into a mutinous scowl. I drop the bag and hold my arms out with a wide grin.

“Big sis!” I greet cheerily. “You look like you’re having a great day already.”

Sarcasm drips from my tone, but it is genuinely good to see her. She’s always grumpy when we talk, so I’m not surprised to see her in a bad mood now.

“You righteous fucking asshole!” she shouts, closing the distance to drill a finger into my chest as she glares up at me. “Who the hell do you think you are to just show up here out of nowhere?”

I scoff, knocking her hand to the side and rolling my eyes. Sure, I’ve been gone for a while, but it’s not like I disavowed the fucking bloodline.

“Uh, your brother?” I say snarkily. “Didn’t realize I needed a written invitation to come home.”

She looks way more upset than I expected her to. Her anger is genuine, and actually directed toward me. I’m used to her taking her frustrations out on me, but I don’t know of anything I did to piss her off this much.

“You definitely do need one when you desert the fucking family, Wayne,” she bites out.

“You fucked off to law school and left me and Dad to deal with the ranch on our own. I begged you to come home, over and over, but you were always too busy with your big city job. And now you just come waltzing back home like you never left?”

I blink at her in surprise, my grin faltering. She’s actually serious.

I mean, sure, she asked me to come help at the ranch a few times, but I wouldn’t call it begging. And it’s not like I could just leave my job when I was so close to making partner. That thought makes bitterness curl, sour and heavy, in my gut.

“Jesus, Jenny, I just wanted to come home for a vacation,” I say with an annoyed laugh.

“Yeah, well, don’t expect anyone to be happy to see you,” she spits.

She turns on her heel before I have a chance to respond, left sputtering and baffled at the acid in her tone.

Welcome fucking home, I guess.