Chapter 3
The smell in the barn usually grounds me instantly, but today it doesn't. The past two days, since Delilah entered my office, have put me in a state I haven't felt since I left Black Ridge. When you have to get away with something and rely on someone else’s decency to escape scrutiny, it’s dependence.
I hate depending on other people.
I should have told my dad and brothers I needed to skip this Saturday morning ride.
But they'd become rare as each of my brothers finds new commitments.
New lives. New loves. And the truth is, as much as I need to keep digging on Delilah, I don't have any more skills to search with, and that leaves me with one option to find intel.
I want to take matters into my own hands the old-fashioned way — heading back up to Sacramento to tail her. But I can't do that. If any of my old MC brothers at Black Ridge saw me, it would resurrect too much. I've been cut off long enough to be a ghost, and it needs to stay that way.
My brother Santi arrives at my stable door. "Chuck me a hoof pick."
"You don't have a hoof pick?" I scoff.
He clicks his tongue. "Since Theo's been helping with the horses, supplies have a tendency to wander."
Theo is his fiancée's son. We never used to have kids around here.
I thought it might ruin the peace, but when I come across Theo and Santi's foster son, Owen, in here, I have to admit it reminds me of easier times when my brothers and I had nothing to do but manual labor and ride.
Easier times. Despite them being hard, the memories sit easy in my chest and are welcome when they revisit.
My mare, Vega, is already saddled up. I pat her rump, look inside my grooming kit for a hoof pick, then pass it to him. "Give it back when you're done. Meaning you've got two minutes with it."
"Alright, alright…" he wanders back to his stall.
I slip Vega's bridle over her nose, smoothing it over her white stripe and ears. I should welcome this potential distraction from Delilah Cross. All I've thought about the past two days is her.
I'm sure when she waltzed into my office, CEO of a cybersecurity and tech firm, she thought that somehow made me some wizard and code geek.
I'm not. I run the business. Sure, I know everything there is to know about our tools, but my skills with them are very low-level, and I'm no hacker like Enzo and Ava.
When Delilah left my office, I was able to run her for a criminal record and stalk her socials. That's about it.
I think back on her profiles. Little Miss Blackmail is a dog groomer. She doesn't post about anything but her business, something she appears proud of.
Very annoyingly, I can't get one particular image out of my goddamn brain.
Delilah with a mini poodle, a tuft of its hair dyed pink, licking her cheek.
The smile on Delilah's face in that photo makes her a thing of beauty beyond even the siren that walked into my office.
I hate that the image is somehow burned into my skull, begging me to consider she's not a bad guy.
The woman came into my life with blackmail, for fuck's sake. Blackmail that could put my family’s livelihood at risk.
Our company's reputation is built on truth. On integrity. If anyone knew most of the start-up capital came from selling weed, underground gambling, and betting rings, we won’t survive that.
And I've been here like a sitting duck because when I came up short looking for anything I could use against her in return, I realized I needed help. I outsourced the search on Delilah to a mid-level techie, one I think is discreet, and not currently on any projects with Enzo or Ava.
I don't want my family involved. My past lurked on Enzo's shoulders long enough. I don't want him worrying about it. I've got this. On my own. Like I always do.
My dad is already mounted, waiting at the large opening of the double barn doors when I guide Vega out of her stable. His reins are loose in his fist as if he's been sitting there since dawn, waiting for the rest of us to catch up. "You boys are slow moving these days."
"Nice to be retired, isn't it, old man?" Santi mutters jokingly from the stable next to me.
Dad snorts. "I was faster than you back then, too. Vagos…"
"Lazy?" Gabriel's voice lifts from his stable at the end. He defends himself. "Pops, you're more invested in the telenovelas these days than the producers."
Enzo's snigger reaches me from a few stables down.
Yes, Dad likes daytime TV now. And I want to keep it that way.
The man worked damn hard running our fledgling ranch back in New Mexico when we were younger.
He has a bad back and arthritic knees to show for it.
I know we all take great pride in having our dad here now, enjoying the finer things.
I can't let Delilah near GhostEye. This is the lifeblood. This is our legacy. This is my dad's retirement.
Delilah fucking Cross and her damn poodle.
She gave me a five-day deadline, and I've already wasted two. I was hoping my techie, David, would have gotten something by Friday, and now it's the weekend. To top it off, I don't mind him digging on Delilah, but I sent him the Chilean passport information, too.
That was a dilemma.
Sending those over and possibly finding the women overstaying their visas could mean trafficking. It could also mean me finding two women trying to start a new life here in the States. These are touchy subjects these days.
I wouldn't put it past Delilah to throw two illegal immigrants under the bus to lead me down a rabbit hole. She wants something. She needs something. And the clock is ticking. What does she want out of this?
My dad's voice is impatient now. "Vámonos, hijos. We finally get a morning together and we're wasting it."
I lead my mare out of the barn. Hoisting myself up, I swing my leg over and slide my boots into the stirrups. We're finally all congregated outside the barn, and Gabriel points over one of the hills. "Let's go west first? Sun behind us?"
Before I hear any answers, my cell buzzes. I slip it out of my pocket.
David. Shit.
It's not good timing with Enzo around, but he seems to be staring off into the distance, so I nudge Vega so that I'm facing away from them a few feet.
"Yeah. David. How's it going?"
"Great. Just thought I'd give you the first report on your search details, see if I flag anything that needs me to work overtime this weekend."
"It's Saturday. You already are. Which I appreciate."
His laugh carries gratitude. I don't give compliments often. "Well, it's not every day the big boss gives me a special assignment."
If this guy helps me — and keeps it quiet — he'll be getting a promotion. "I assume you have something for me."
"Yeah. Well, first, the two passports. The women. Legal entry into SFO about four weeks ago. Visas are still valid. I haven't been able to track any debit or credit card usage from them, or any foreign exchange at the airport. Or anywhere."
"None at all?"
As a company that details people for a living, we understand patterns. Average travelers. And those with things to hide.
"No. It is odd, given that most tourists from Chile exchange money here, since the peso is a restricted currency, it's not common for them to arrive with dollars. But they could have met someone here who had them."
Someone like Iron Covenant? I try not to just to that conclusion, but skepticism has always been wired into me. Thankfully, David is trying to earn the promotion he can probably sniff out and is already one step ahead.
"We have a contract with SFO. I asked for airport CCTV to see if they met family members. Unfortunately, they walked out to the short-term parking lot and got into a car with plates that don't match the vehicle. So I don't know where they headed after that. Or who they were with."
Swapped plates is enough to kick up my pulse.
But it’s nothing I can use. It doesn’t tell me enough.
The women aren't here illegally and haven't overstayed their visas. If they were trafficked, they haven't been here long. The illegal plate is sketchy as hell, and it definitely concerns me. But again, they could be visiting family who aren't here legally.
"Do you want me to see if I can trace the vehicle somehow?" he asks.
I know these things can turn into a wild goose chase. But Delilah has a meeting booked at HQ on Monday. "Yeah. You around to clock overtime on this?" I ask.
"Sure thing." His keyboard clicks in the background. "There's also this Delilah Cross search."
My stomach tightens.
"She doesn't have any criminal record. Self-employed.
I have an address on her and there's nothing out of the ordinary going on there.
Is there anything in particular you're looking for?
My usual avenues aren't pointing to anything criminal.
Unless it's financial. Tax-related… haven't done any of that yet. "
I'd take anything right now. Anything to watch her pretty green eyes blast open at my counterattack on Monday. But I can't lead David straight to Iron Covenant. That can't come from me. "I need everything you can get. Family connections. Friends…"
"Well, there was one thing I found. It was interesting because there's no evidence of any relationship on her socials."
No, there was no boyfriend. I would know. I spent enough time staring at that poodle picture.
"She applied for a marriage license four weeks ago."
Delilah is engaged? The idea shouldn't bother me, but by the way my stomach twists, it does. I file it away quickly. This could be leverage. An engagement is leverage. A fiancé is pressure. Maybe her deadline isn't about the women at all. Maybe she's trying to run away with Romeo.
David's voice comes through my cell. "The other name on the certificate is… uh…" he pauses to pull up the file, "Luther Vaughn."
Everything inside me drops a level as if I've missed a step in the dark. My throat tightens. For once, I'm speechless.
Delilah is engaged to the new president at Black Ridge. The president. That's how she got the folder. Ray must have given it to Luther, and he showed it to Delilah?
Fuck. I don't have one person trying to use me. I have two. They want to take down Iron Covenant. Black Ridge was enough for Ray, but apparently, it isn't for his son.
And Delilah? She isn't concerned with finding these women or ensuring their safety. They're using me to take down the rival. Take down her daddy. She's the princess who wants to be the queen of it all. And she thinks I'm her pawn.
"Hermano?" Enzo's voice snaps me upright. I wrap up with David. "Listen. I've got to run. Let's chat tomorrow." I hang up, slip my phone into my pocket, and turn Vega around to find my twin staring at me, eyes narrowed behind his Clark Kent glasses.
"What's wrong?" he asks.
"Just work."
"Yeah. Got that. What's wrong?"
"Nothing."
"Why are you lying?"
Fucking twin telepathy. He probably feels the vibration in his bones because I'm buzzing with fury. I click Vega forward and move past him. "It's Saturday. Let's just hit the trails. Yeah?"
He lets it go, like we often do.
I can't get him involved. GhostEye is his creation. His brainchild. His life's work. It's personal to him and has helped him get over demons he didn't deserve to carry. He can't ever think any of it is at risk.
I won't let my past become his problem.
I squeeze my legs. Vega moves into a trot. I position myself at the front of the herd so I don't have to look anyone in the eye while I consider the deep shit I'm in.
Delilah doesn't want me to find two women.
She doesn't even want me to start a war.
She's using me to finish it.