Chapter Two
Wrangler
It was nearly nine-thirty when he heard the sound of her approaching vehicle. It was later than usual, but he wouldn’t complain under the circumstances. The kids were officially on summer break and had nowhere to be the next day. Moreover, he’d never gripe about extra time with his offspring.
They were in the middle of their second round of Phase Ten when he put his cards down and said, “Your mom’s here.”
“Ah, man! I was totally gonna win this time,” declared Axel, throwing his cards onto the table in dramatic fashion.
At nine, Wrangler’s son was full of big energy. He had his mother’s blond hair and blue eyes but all of his father’s fire. A natural born dare devil, he was meant for the outdoors. But he also had a competitive streak that made it easy for Wrangler to convince him to sit down and play a game every now and again.
Chuckling, Wrangler suggested, “Tell you what, leave the cards where they are, we’ll pick it up when you get back.”
Axel’s spine straightened as a slow grin spread across his face, lighting up his blue eyes.
“Dad, we’ll be gone two weeks this time, remember?” pointed out Marlowe. He looked across from him at his daughter as she continued, “You’ll need your table to, you know, eat .”
That was his Marlowe, almost eleven and going on forty, always looking out for her daddy. She was all his. Same brown-black hair. Same blue-green eyes. Same subtle-freckles sprinkled across her cheeks—darker and more obvious after time in the sun. She was a whole lot prettier, though. He could only hope as she got older, his bookworm would keep her eyes on her stories and off the boys—'cause he knew the boys would be chasing after her.
“Nah, I’ll be fine,” he insisted.
The doorbell rang, and their time was up.
“Go grab your backpacks. I’ll meet you at the door.”
He watched them hurry toward their rooms, pausing a beat before he got up and slowly made his way to his front entry. There’d been a time, years ago, when he couldn’t wait to see Nicole—but those days were long gone. Civility was only guaranteed when their kids were present, so he tried not to open the door too soon.
His ex had just returned from her honeymoon. It was why he got to keep his kids a full two weeks. He’d like to think that new ring on her finger and more than a week on the beach would have her in a good mood, but there was no guarantee. She had a special talent for being a bitch just because she wanted to be.
He opened the door and spotted Nicole a second before Axel came racing from his room and straight into his father’s side. He threw his arms around Wrangler’s waist, and the hard shell of the cast he wore on his right arm smacked against his back.
“Bye, dad.”
“Bye, Ax,” replied Wrangler, affectionately rustling his hair. “Be good.”
“Duh,” he said teasingly before bounding out the door. “Hi, mom.”
He didn’t stop but skipped toward the still running car in the driveway.
“Hey, baby,” greeted Nicole, a hint of laughter in her tone as she watched him go. She was still smiling when she shifted her gaze back toward Wrangler. For a fraction of a second, he was reminded of her beauty. He used to like the way her eyes got soft when she was happy.
He looked away from her when he heard Marlowe approach. Like her brother, she walked straight into his side, wrapping her arms around his waist.
“Bye, dad. Oh, and don’t forget you said you’d return those books to the library for me.”
“First thing tomorrow. I know.”
She smiled, and he bent to press a kiss on top of her head.
“Bye, Lowe. Love you.”
“Love you, too.” She held on a second longer, giving him an extra squeeze, then stepped out to greet Nicole with a hug. “Hi, mom.”
“Hi, sweetheart.” She ran her hand over Marlowe’s hair and said, “Go join Axel and Evan in the car. I need to talk to your dad for a second.”
Marlowe looked between her parents warily then murmured, “Okay,” before she obeyed.
When she was out of earshot, Nicole asked, “So, how were they?”
Wrangler tried not to roll his eyes.
“They were fine. Last week of school was good. They’re excited to be out.”
“I’ll bet. And you remembered to wrap Axel’s cast whenever he got in the shower?”
He bit back his annoyance. He hated when she did this—treated him like he didn’t spend just as much time with their kids as she did; like he was a dumbass who couldn’t parent on his own.
“Yes.”
“Good.”
She folded her arms across her chest as a breeze blew by, but she didn’t say goodnight. He wondered if she was waiting for him to ask how her trip was. She’d be waiting all night if that was the case.
After a moment, she cleared her throat and said, “Listen, Evan and I spent a lot of time talking these last couple of weeks about the kids and what’s best for them. Now that we’re married, we can provide a really stable environment. We decided, after the summer is over, we want to keep them with us during the week. You can have them every other weekend.”
She said it like it was no big deal. Like she was telling him about upcoming vacation plans.
“Like fuck ,” Wrangler barked with a scowl.
She nodded knowingly, her civil demeanor gone as she replied, “I knew you would react this way.”
“How the hell did you think I would respond to your attempt to take my kids from me?”
“That— that right there. This isn’t about you , Wrangler. It’s about them and their wellbeing. They’ve been going back and forth between us for years. I’m finally in a place where I can provide them with a normal home life, and Evan fully supports this.”
Wrangler shrugged flippantly. “I don’t give a shit what Evan thinks. Evan is not their father. I am. They are just fine with how things are.”
“Wrangler, listen to me, I’m not taking them away from you. You’ll still see them.”
“No. We’re not talkin’ about this anymore, because it’s not happenin’.”
She huffed a sigh, unfolding her arms before running her fingers through her long, tousled hair. “Okay, you can stand there in denial all you want, but I suggest you get a lawyer. I’ll be seeking to modify our custody agreement effective at the beginning of the school year. I’d like us to handle this outside of court, but that’s up to you. I’ll text you my lawyer’s contact information. As soon as you’re ready, we can schedule a mediation.
“Goodnight, Wrangler.”
He stared at her as she turned her back on him and walked away.
He was seething .
He shouldn’t have been surprised, but he was. She’d been playing games since the moment they split. He was used to her bullshit, but this—this crossed the line.
When the car began to ease out of his driveway, he slammed his door shut and faced his living room. He saw the large, gray, L-shaped sectional that sat in front of the TV he had mounted on the wall. It was as comfortable as it was sturdy. So far, it was able to withstand the way Axel threw himself onto it whenever they settled down to watch a movie.
Beyond the living room was the kitchen. Marlowe’s completed library books were perched on the island. His dining room table, on the other side, was littered with Phase Ten cards. Everything he saw as his eyes scanned his surroundings was for his kids.
The hardwood floors underneath his feet, the roof over his head, the food in his fridge—it was for his kids.
He was unequivocally two things: a father and a Stallion, and in that order.
Nicole knew that. She fucking knew it. But she was always trying to best him at something. Now she was married to some lame fucker who thought he was going to help Nicole rob him of his children.
Then it struck him.
Wrangler closed his eyes and dropped his chin when he realized what must have set her off.
Axel broke his arm a week before her wedding. He was with Wrangler when he fell. It was an accident and bound to happen, Axel being Ax. He would be fine. His arm would heal, but he had to be in a cast for six weeks.
He chose a black wrap.
Apparently, Nicole’s wedding colors were muted and neutral. Axel’s cast likely stood out like a sore thumb in all the pictures. Wrangler wasn’t there, but he was sure she was pissed. Pissed enough to pull this shit.
He let her get away with a lot of foolishness, but there was no way in hell she was going to win this one.
Still standing near the door, he pulled his phone from his pocket and dialed Bull’s number.
“You got me,” answered the Stallions’ president on the second ring.
“Where are we at with Hoffman?”
Fred Hoffman. The Wild Stallions’ General Counsel.
Up until a few months ago, he was a trusted resource. At the end of last summer, things had taken a turn.
It started when he became a glorified messenger between Scorpion, the club’s former president—currently five years into his seven-year stint in prison—and Viper, the former VP of the Stallions’ Cheyenne chapter. Those messages, delivered by Hoffman, resulted in conflict with Gabriel Alvarez and his drug cartel.
Nobody wanted to stir up trouble with the cartel—least of all the Stallions. They were living in peace, and they wanted to keep it that way.
Once partners in the drug trafficking business, the Stallions and the cartel had parted ways on good terms when the club gave up drugs as a means of income. The events of the previous summer disrupted the trust between the organizations. Now there might not have been bad blood—Viper’s life the cost of a negotiated truce—but trust was tenuous at best.
And it wasn’t merely trust between Alvarez and the Stallions that had been broken.
Hoffman’s loyalties were in question.
“His assistant is still in our pocket. Not much new to report. He’s still meetin’ with Rocco ‘bout once a month, but he’s followed our orders otherwise. He hasn’t been in contact with Scorpion.”
Rocco Borrero, the younger brother of Raphael Borrero. Raph was Gabriel’s muscle at his home base down in Laporte, Colorado. Rocco was the cartel’s man in Gillette, the top dog responsible for the revenue in the region.
The Stallions still didn’t know why Hoffman had taken him on as a client. Seemed like a conflict of interest, but it hadn’t caused a problem yet. Hoffman was free to take on other business, and the Stallions were free to keep a close eye on him.
“Why? We got trouble?” asked Bull.
“Yeah. Nicole. Tryin’ to take my kids now that she’s married.”
“Fuck,” Bull muttered.
“They’re my kids, prez—I don’t need some back-stabbing motherfucker screwing me over now.”
“No. I know,” he said.
Wrangler knew he meant it.
Bull was a father, too; and a damn good one. His ol’ lady stuck around, and they were raising three boys together. A custody battle wasn’t a problem he would ever have to face, but he knew what it meant to fight for family better than anyone.
He’d fought for the Stallions—a real war with casualties and sacrifices alike—and he won.
It’s how he earned his president patch and the authority to lead them all.
“Don’t go to Hoffman with this. I don’t trust him enough. Call around. I will, too. We’ll find someone else. You work with him, and you like him, I’m open to new representation. We’ll create a job opening.”
“Alright. On it.”
They disconnected without saying goodbye, and Wrangler headed for the couch, ready to begin his hunt.