Chapter 6 JACE
JACE
From my wheelchair, I scan the ranch through the monitors in front of me. Cattle are moving slower than usual in the heat, horses swatting away flies with their tails, the ranch hands fanning themselves with hats, their boots kicking up dust as they move about their different duties.
I roll forward, the whirr of the motor on my chair echoing softly against the floor.
My laptop is open on my desk, security reports stacked neatly beside it.
The ranch’s cybersecurity audit is on my mind, and so is the new hire.
The “consultant” I brought in last week.
Tessa, or Sienna Carter, as she’s pretending to be.
Everything about her feels wrong, from her fake name to the secrets she is hiding.
She’s good at her job; everything she’s done so far has met my expectations—there is no denying that—but I cannot ignore the red flags.
Maybe it’s the perfect résumé, too clean and polished references, or maybe it’s the way she keeps looking at me—polite, professional, but with an edge.
I swipe the screen of my laptop and open her file again.
Sienna Carter. Her picture stares back, all smiles and professionalism, but my memory fights against it.
This Sienna Carter has the same face as the woman I slept with in D.C.
, but they have different names. The details are not adding up, and I need to keep my family safe.
I just hope I didn’t invite the wolves in, thinking I was hiring a security expert instead.
Zane walks in while I’m in the middle of my turmoil and leans against the doorframe, arms crossed, a smirk playing on his face. “You look like shit,” he comments.
“I feel like it,” I mutter back.
I haven’t had a proper night’s sleep since Tessa got here, and it’s messing with my performance.
“What’s eating at you? You’ve been a restless mess ever since Sienna got here,” he questions.
I’ve been keeping her busy and away from the family, but her name got back to them. I consider lying, but rethink it as he might help me get some perspective on all this.
“I don’t know, Zane,” I say, my fingers tapping against the armrest of the wheelchair. “Something about this girl doesn’t sit right. She’s too perfect—it just feels off.”
Zane raises an eyebrow. “Perfect is a good thing, Jace. You’re acting like she’s a threat to your empire.”
I grit my teeth, adjusting the chair to face him. “She might as well be. Her references check out, her résumé is flawless, but my gut? It’s screaming. Something’s wrong. I can’t shake it.”
Zane steps closer, shaking his head. “You’ve been burned before, I get it. But maybe it’s time to do more than stew about it. Why don’t you run a background check? Full sweep. Make sure nothing is hiding in the shadows.”
I pause, considering it. He’s right—he usually is. “Yeah,” I say slowly, my voice low. “I need to know exactly who I’m letting around the ranch, around our family. I can’t afford mistakes. Not after everything.”
Zane smirks again, this time with a hint of approval. “Then do it. If there’s nothing there, you’ll stop obsessing. If there is…” He taps the side of his head. “You’ll know before it becomes a problem.”
I nod, dismissing him with a wave. It’s time to dig, make sure I’m not being paranoid.
First, the basics: name, aliases, previous jobs. Everything comes back flawless. A résumé like hers should have some minor blemishes, a little messiness. Instead, it’s spotless, polished, almost unreal.
I pick up the phone. “Hello, this is Jace Morgan. I’m following up on a reference for Sienna Carter.” I keep my tone neutral.
The first reference is a calm, professional voice. “Yes, Mr. Morgan. How can I help you?”
“I just have a few questions about her work ethic, reliability, and anything you can share about her time with your company.”
“Oh, she was exemplary. Never a problem, always ahead of schedule, extremely professional. We were sorry to see her go.”
I hang up and run a hand over my face. Too perfect.
Next call.
“Hi, this is Jace Morgan again. Calling for a reference about Sienna Carter.”
“Ah, yes,” the voice says, a bit too friendly. “She was fantastic. Smart, capable, completely trustworthy. Honestly, one of the best we’ve had.”
I stare at the phone in my hand, jaw tight. Every reference is glowing. Too glowing. Something’s not adding up.
Leaning back in the wheelchair, I mutter under my breath, “You don’t just sweep through three references without a single slip unless you’re hiding something.”
I tap into some deeper databases, combing through online records. That’s when I start seeing the breadcrumbs—mentions of her last employer, AegisTech.
The name hits a nerve. I remember it from the conference—sleek, corporate, too polished. And the CEO, Richard. Yeah, that guy. He was a total dick.
And now, she’s tied to this mess? I scroll through the news articles, whistleblower reports, lawsuits filed, and boardroom meltdowns. Names, figures, shady deals—everything pointing to a company built on corner-cutting, lies, and intimidation.
I tap my fingers on the desk. Something isn’t adding up. Every reference has come back spotless, yet here she is, linked to one of the biggest corporate train wrecks of the last decade.
My gut churns, and I mutter under my breath, “You expect me to believe you had nothing to do with this?”
Even before I’ve confronted her, I know I need to get answers. And if she’s lying, she won’t like the consequences. I don’t care that we shared a night of passion once; my family comes first above all else.
I lean forward, tapping the phone again, dialing her line, summoning her to my office.
My hands rest on the wheels, fingers tightening, loosening, tightening again. I rehearse the words in my head, my voice low and controlled.
A knock on the door makes me tense. “Come in,” I say, keeping my voice steady, professional.
The door opens, and there she is. Pink hair pulled back, eyes alert, posture straight. She steps in carefully, scanning the room.
“Mr. Morgan,” she says, voice polite but wary.
I motion toward the chair opposite me. “Have a seat, Sienna.” My tone carries no warmth.
She hesitates, then slides the chair back and sits. I watch her. Every shift, blink, tiny tightening of her jaw tells me she’s aware of what’s coming.
I wheel a bit closer, enough to assert presence but not threaten.
My hands hover over the armrests, keeping me grounded, ready to react.
“I’ve reviewed the references and background you provided,” I start slowly, deliberately, “and while everything looks spotless, I need to know why it feels like you’re hiding something. ”
Her eyes flicker—for a second, maybe a microsecond too long.
I lean back slightly, arms crossing over my chest. “If you’ve lied to me, Sienna, or if there’s information you’ve withheld, I need to know now.
Because if I find out later…” My voice drops just a fraction, carrying the weight of both threat and promise.
“…there will be consequences. Legal consequences. And I won’t hesitate. ”
Her lips press together. She swallows, then leans forward, eyes locked on mine. “I’m here to do a job, not to be interrogated.”
So that’s how she wants to play it?
“I’m the boss here,” I say, voice low but commanding. “And this is my home. My family’s safety. And if there’s even a shred of deception, I need to know now. Because I can call the cops, Sienna. And I will.”
The tension in the room spikes, thick enough to taste. She exhales slowly, her posture stiff but defiant. “You can call them. Doesn’t change the fact that I’m here to work.”
I tilt my head, studying her. The defiance is real, but so is the fear behind it. I can see it in the slight tremble in her fingers, the flicker of unease in her eyes.
“You’re playing a game,” I continue, voice steady, deliberate. “And I don’t like games. Especially not when it involves my family’s legacy.”
Her gaze sharpens. “I’m not playing anything.”
“You’re telling me you just showed up here?” I ask, voice tight, deliberate. “No one sent you? No one’s backing you? You’re just here for the job?”
Her hands tighten in her lap. Her pink hair catches the last light, almost mocking me with how out of place she looks in Wrangler Creek. “Yes,” she says quickly. “I’m here for the job. That’s it.”
Too quick. Too precise. I know the tells.
I roll closer, letting the creak of my chair mark every deliberate inch I cover. “You expect me to believe that? You just happened to land at my ranch? Six months after Washington? And what, you didn’t think to warn me?”
At the mention of Washington, her face shows she knows she’s been caught.
She flinches, just slightly, but I see it. “It’s a coincidence,” she says, voice pitched firm. “I’m not—“
“Not what?” I cut her off, leaning forward, letting the small space between us feel like a cage. “Don’t try the innocent act with me. You’re either hiding something or you’re the dumbest spy I’ve ever seen.”
Her jaw tightens. There’s fire in her eyes, rebelliousness, but I can also feel the tension rolling off her in waves. I can smell the faint sweet vanilla on her, the heat of her pulse racing under her skin. Damn it. She’s distracting me. Not now.
“I’m not a spy,” she says, voice low, almost daring. “I’m here to work. That’s all.”
I snort, leaning in even closer, the wheels of my chair squeaking as I angle deliberately. “You think I’d let just anyone near my family? My business? My secrets?” My hand taps the armrest like a metronome of warning.
Her lips press together, tight and sharp, and I know she’s biting back something. I can see it in her eyes—she doesn’t fear me, and if she does, there is something she fears more. She doesn’t even flinch much, and that pisses me off.
“I gave you a week, thinking you’d come clean yourself, but my patience has run out.”
Her jaw tightens. “I’m not—“
“Not what?” I cut her off, my voice low and sharp, rolling through the room like a whip.
“Not a liar? Not a traitor? Not the kind of person who would sneak in under someone else’s name to steal company secrets?
You lied,” I say, voice cutting. “Your references? Perfect. Too perfect. Your history? Clean as a whistle. Your name? Fake as they come. The company you came from? Burned to the ground. All the people who knew you? Either scared or gone. And you expect me to believe you’re just here for a job? ”
Her lips part, but nothing comes out. She’s cornered. Good.
“Since you won’t give me the answers I need, I’m not taking chances. Not with my family, or my ranch, not with the people who rely on me.” I push myself slightly forward, letting my presence fill the room. “You’re fired. Effective immediately.”
Her eyes widen. There’s a flash of panic, but she recovers quickly, still trying to hold her poker face. “You must be joking. You can’t fire me. The job is not done.”
“I’m serious,” I growl. “I’ll find someone else to do it. You have one hour to pack and leave. If I catch a single thing out of place, don’t think I won’t call the cops. Consider this your one and only warning. Leave my ranch, or I swear you’ll regret it.”
She swallows hard, the color draining from her face, and for a moment, I almost feel sorry for her. Almost. But then I remember the stakes. My family. My livelihood. My trust.
“Mr. Morgan—“
“Out. Now!”
Her shoulders stiffen, and she looks like she wants to argue, but she doesn’t. She gathers herself, moving stiffly toward the door. I watch her every step, because I know this isn’t over. It’s never over with someone like her.
And I’ll be ready.