Chapter Twenty-Three
Wrangler
When the sound of his phone roused him from sleep, Wrangler didn’t know what time it was, only that the sun had yet to rise. With just one eye open, he reached for the device and saw it was Mustang calling. He sat up with a start and swiped his thumb across the screen before pressing it to his ear.
“Hey,” he grumbled softly.
“We got him.”
Wrangler tossed aside the covers, wedging his phone between his shoulder and his ear as he asked, “Where are you?”
“Outside Estes Park. I’ll send you our exact location. We’ll sit on him until you get here. Come in your cage. We can’t trust him to go any other way.”
“Understood,” he agreed, stepping into yesterday’s jeans. “What’s he sayin’?”
“Nothin’. Not a word. We’re an hour away from Alvarez. We’ll take the party to him, see if he can open Hoffman’s mouth.”
“Alright. Be there as soon as I can.”
“Jed?” murmured Alexia as the two men disconnected. “Jed, is everything okay?”
“It will be,” he replied, headed for his dresser. Blindly, he reached for a tee-shirt and pulled it over his head. “That was Mustang. They’ve got Hoffman.”
“What? Where?” she asked, already more alert than she was the second before. She switched on the lamp nearest her side of the bed, illuminating the room in a warm, golden glow.
“Colorado. I’ve gotta ride, darlin’. You go back to sleep.”
“Go back to sleep? Papi, you have to know that’s not going to happen. Not now.”
He paused long enough to look back at her, and it was impossible to ignore the worry that tugged at her brow. In the short while he’d known her, he’d become as acquainted with her fear and anxiety as much as her amusement and happiness. It irked him how little he’d been able to do to put an end to it all—but now was his chance.
“We’re gonna get to the bottom of this. It’s almost over, Lex.”
“But what does that mean? What are you gonna do?”
“You trust me?”
“With my life,” she replied instantly.
“Good. Then go back to sleep,” he told her, headed to the closet for his boots. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
She didn’t argue, but when he returned to the room, she was still sitting up in bed, bathed in lamp light.
“This is my first rodeo,” she murmured, sweeping her hair behind her ears. “I don’t know what you’re about to do—if it’s legal or if I’ll have to be your lawyer when it’s all said and done—but I do know that I love you, and I’m not the only one. You don't need me to remind you of the two children you’ve got who couldn’t live without you, but I kind of feel obligated to say it, and now I have so—just—be careful. Please?”
It was barely four in the morning, which was damn near the middle of the night. He wanted coffee and a shower, but he had time for neither. He needed to get on the road, and he had every intention of relying on his adrenaline and his impatience for justice to keep him alert as he went.
Now he had the memory of this moment to carry with him, too.
Damn, but she was cute.
More than that, she was his.
“Come ‘ere, gorgeous.”
She didn’t waste a moment but crawled across the bed and hurried toward him in an instant. She got close, resting her open palms against his middle in that way that was all Lex. He held her around the waist and admired her face. He could honestly say, in his woman he’d found another reason to do what he did.
The Stallions were his brothers—the family with whom he belonged.
His kids were what he lived for—the driving force behind all his hard work.
But Alexia was for him. His prize. His future. His great love.
He wanted nothing more than to put this conflict behind them so they could get on with their lives. Together.
“This ends today, Lex. One way or another.”
He sealed his word with hard, closed-mouth kiss, pulling away before he was satisfied. He then took his woman by the chin, stared into her stunning amber eyes, admired her perfect, plump lips, and reminded himself who he was fighting for.
“I gotta go,” he muttered.
“I know,” she whispered with a nod.
He kissed her one more time, then let her go, walking away without another word.
He hurried down to the basement, extracted his holster and his Colt, nine-millimeter from the safe, then finally headed for his cage.
Even while traveling over the speed limit, it took Wrangler nearly five and a half hours to reach the cabin in Estes Park. It was a long way to go in his Tahoe, and the fact that his journey home meant another five hours closed in his cage only served to piss him off that much more.
Soon as he parked behind his brothers’ hogs, he was out of his vehicle and marching toward the cabin. Mustang stood beside the front entrance, his shoulder propped against the side of the doorframe, and did nothing to stop him as he barreled his way inside, looking for Hoffman. As soon as he spotted him, tied to a chair in the middle of the main room, Wrangler headed straight for him, his fingers already curled into a fist.
He landed three solid blows to the face before someone took hold of his arm to stop him. Wrangler glanced over his shoulder and saw Bull. The president shook his head once before he muttered, “That’s enough for now. We need him conscious.”
Wrangler didn’t realize how hard he was breathing, or how worked up he was, until he took a step back and shrugged off Bull’s hand. He raked his fingers through his hair, drew in a deep breath through his nose, then nodded as he worked to get control of himself. It was then he realized he hadn’t been the first one to lay hands on the lawyer. Wrangler likely broke his nose, but the black eye he had, and the busted lip he sported weren’t so fresh.
“Right. Gang’s all here. Let’s get this show on the road,” said Maverick.
As if he understood his fate was sealed, Hoffman didn’t put up a fight as the men escorted him to Wrangler’s SUV. They hog-tied him in the trunk, and then they were on their way.
Gabriel Alvarez’s offices were located on his compound in Laporte, Colorado. Surprise visits weren’t encouraged, and when the Stallions rolled up to the gate less than an hour later, they were stopped. At least this time, bullets weren’t flying.
A short exchange with Bull was enough to grant them access, and they were greeted outside their final destination by Alvarez’s muscle—Raphael Borrero. Wrangler was stepping out of his Tahoe as he spoke.
“You don’t have an appointment. State your business.”
Bull said nothing but turned to look back at Wrangler. That was all the cue he needed. He went to the back of his SUV, opened the hatch, and dragged Hoffman out. He landed on the ground with an unforgiving thump , and the man grunted in pain.
Borrero made his way around the Harleys to get a better look at the reason behind their visit. His face went blank when he registered who it was, and he simply nodded and said, “Right. Come with me.”
Maverick helped Wrangler free Hoffman’s feet, then all five of them trailed after Borrero. They journeyed through a maze of hallways until they reached the double doors that opened into Alvarez’s office.
“Wait here,” instructed Borrero before he granted himself access.
It wasn’t long before the door reopened. Except, it wasn’t Borrero who walked through it, but a petite blonde in a tight dress and high heels. She stopped short at the sight of the Stallions, then cleared her throat, tugged at the hem of her skirt, and smiled before walking around them. Her heels made a clicking noise that echoed off the concrete floors as she went. The sound of her cadence was still bouncing against the walls when Borrero stuck his head out and addressed Bull.
“Only two of you—and the lawyer, of course.”
No discussion was needed. Maverick and Mustang took a step back as Wrangler and Bull stepped forward—Wrangler’s hand still clasped tightly around Hoffman’s arm. Satisfied, Borrero granted them entrance.
“Bull. It’s been a while. Good to see you,” greeted Alvarez facetiously.
He didn’t move to stand from where he sat behind his desk.
Prick , thought Wrangler.
“I thought we had a deal,” said Bull instead of hello. “You mind your business, I’ll mind mine.”
“But of course. What seems to be the problem?”
“Seems you’ve been mindin’ my business. Though, your choice of mole was a bit asinine.”
Alvarez frowned, as if bewildered. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Hoffman, here, was on retainer for my operation up your way. As I understand it, he was free to take on new clients.”
“Don’t fuckin’ bullshit me—you had him in your pocket. He’s admitted as much.”
Alvarez hesitated a moment, glancing at Hoffman before he stood with a sigh. “Fine. I’ll admit it. I thought he’d be useful,” he said with a shrug. “Turns out, I was wrong.”
“So, what, you ordered a hit on his replacement?” spat Wrangler, unable to hold his tongue a moment longer.
Alvarez frowned, as if he found the accusation silly. “No. I had nothing to do with that.”
“There was a time I might have taken you at your word, but that time has passed. Trouble we had last summer was handled, fair and fuckin’ square. I let you have one of mine, and we walked away—now this is evidence of our truce?” asked Bull, nodding toward Hoffman. “Your little toy was defective, but that doesn’t mean you couldn’t use him to try to start that war you seem so keen on fightin’ with our lot.”
Alvarez's frown morphed into a scowl that Wrangler thought might have showcased genuine disbelief.
“You think I want to go to war with you? Bull, I’m a businessman, not a war lord. I don’t have time for that shit. Sure, I had Rocco hire him to keep an eye on you to make certain you weren’t doing anything to jeopardize my money, but as soon as you let him go, I figured you’d cottoned on, and I cut my losses. He wasn’t given me shit anyway.”
“Maybe ‘cause there’s no shit to give. I don’t know how many times I have to say it, we’re out of the drug business.”
“Yeah, well, I believe you now.”
“Wish I could say the same.”
“I didn’t order him to shoot anyone.” Alvarez shifted his attention onto Hoffman. “Is that what you’re telling them? You’re putting my name on your fuck-up?”
“He’s not saying much of anything,” muttered Bull when Hoffman continued to keep his silence.
Without any further preamble, Alvarez reached behind his back, pulled out a gun, cocked it, and pointed it in Hoffman’s direction.
“I suggest you speak up.”
Hoffman cowered immediately, folding in on himself as he stammered, “Don’t shoot. Don’t shoot! I-I-I—I acted alone, okay? Fuck —I acted alone. I was trying to make a play. I needed to prove to you I still had value,” he cried, peering hesitantly down the barrel of Alvarez's gun. “I warned that bitch, and she didn’t listen. I—”
The gun went off, the bullet aimed true, and before Wrangler’s mind could process what was happening, Hoffman’s brain was splattered on the carpet. He lost his grip on the man as he fell limp to the ground.
“The fuck?” cried Bull.
The doors behind them burst open, Maverick and Mustang racing to their brothers’ aid. As soon as they saw the dead man wasn’t one of them, they froze.
Alvarez put his gun away as he said, “There. Problem solved. We good?”
“We weren’t gonna kill him.”
“That’s your problem, my friend. You don’t kill your traitors, you let them rot in jail. Trouble is—unless they’re dead, there’s always the possibility their stink will come back to haunt you.” He then looked to Borrero and instructed, “Get the clean-up crew in here. I just bought that fuckin’ rug.”
It was nearly six o’clock that evening when Wrangler pulled into his garage. He’d had more than enough time to get over what happened that morning. While he wished he’d had his chance to exact his own vengeance against the man who tried to kill the woman he loved—Alvarez was right. After all he’d done to betray the Wild Stallions and everything they stood for, Hoffman’s death was warranted.
Now, for what felt like the first time since he laid eyes on her, there were no threats looming over his Lex. They could move on—finally.
Before he could even step out of his Tahoe, she was standing at the garage door, anxiously waiting for him. After hours on the road, he was exhausted, and she sure was a sight for sore eyes.
“Hi,” she murmured as he approached.
“Hey, darlin’.”
Her amber eyes gave him a quick once over, scanning him from top to toe before she reached for him. With her arms wrapped around his shoulders, she made it easy for him to lift her off her feet and carry her inside.
“What happened? Is everyone okay?”
He shut the garage door behind them and took her to the couch. With her still held against his chest, he flopped down onto his back, taking her with him.
“Jed,” she laughed. “Papi, say something.”
He moved to gather her hair away from her face, sweeping it behind her ears before he said, “It’s over. Hoffman’s gone.”
Her smile fell, a frown tugging her eyebrows together. “Gone?” she murmured.
“He’s dead, Lex.”
She gasped, propping herself up against his chest. “What? How?”
“Wasn’t us,” he assured her with a shake of his head. “Our hands are clean. I promise.”
He watched as she processed the news. It took her a minute, but he knew it had settled when she nodded and whispered, “It’s over.”
“Yup.”
“Okay.”
He could tell her acceptance of the situation didn’t make it any easier to swallow, but she didn’t pepper him with questions. She didn’t need the gory details. She was good like that. Pure. He hoped that never changed.
“What’d you do today?” he asked in an effort to redirect her thoughts.
“Oh, um—remember the other day, when I said I wanted to work because if I didn’t I’d probably end up deep cleaning your house?”
Wrangler grinned. “Lex, tell me you didn’t.”
She was smiling now, too. “I can’t do that without lying to you. Not sure if you noticed, but there are no more boxes with my clothes in the garage. If you don’t like the way I rearranged the closet, I can change it, but—”
“I’m sure it’s great.”
“It kind of is, actually. Also, I didn’t touch the kid’s rooms, but I did do a little snooping. I think I know what I want to get Lowe for her birthday.”
Wrangler stared up at his ol’ lady. Her flawless, olive skin and long, silky hair. Her stunning amber eyes and cute nose. Those plump, sweetheart lips—meant for kissing. Not for the first time, and certainly not for the last, he couldn’t help but think how he’d never wanted any woman more.