CHAPTER 49
Four months later
I didn’t sell the De Luca estate.
As much as I didn’t want it anymore, I didn’t want men turning up here all hours of the day either, so it’s become a base of sorts.
Money still needs to be made, and men still need to be put in their place.
Even if the world doesn’t see it, a De Luca has always controlled the city, and it will always be that way, even if it doesn’t look the same anymore.
The men still loyal to Anton have been dealt with, and what remains is now mine.
It feels fucking good to win.
“Look at you,” I coo to the bull and lean forward to press my lips to his cheek, leaving a faded lipstick mark and then admire my work. The blue bow is cute. “Such a pretty boy.”
“Get that fucking bow off my bull, Elena!” Knox yells from beyond the fence, his thighs stretched over the back of Honey with Apollo led by reins at his side.
“He’s not yours,” I holler back.
“Like fuck he isn’t! I raised him!”
“He likes me more,” I scratch said bull between the eyes and his rough tongue lunges out to lick at my wrist. The weather has cooled considerably since I first found this ranch, the trees now turning as we head into fall.
“Get your ass here, Hellion,” Knox demands, “We need to run the checks on the fence line before this storm arrives.”
“So bossy,” I whisper to Ralph but begin to walk to the fence line, hopping over it to take the reins from Knox and mount my horse.
He can pretend all he likes that Ralph isn’t mine, he may have raised him, but it’s me who is the only one able to deal with him. Knox can but Ralph is cranky with him.
Knox shakes his head. “The fuck am I going to do with you, woman?”
“I have some ideas,” I drop my eyes to the fresh bruise on the side of his neck.
He shakes his head. “Let’s go before it gets dark.”
His words say he’s exasperated with me, but the smirk on his mouth and the heat in his eyes tell me a different story.
I guide Apollo around and begin to follow him and Honey down a thin path to begin the check around the perimeter.
We only have the north to do since he now has over thirty guys working for him and the ranch now, picking up on a lot of the duties he had been forced to do himself.
The livestock count has grown, and restoration has begun on the house as well as on the many cabins around the ranch that used to be used for tourists looking to experience ranch life.
His debts are paid, the work is being done, and life is somewhat returning to what it should be.
Knox closed Rossi Enterprises in the first week of him having it, offering to sell back the land to the ranchers who lost it when Rossi bulldozed through these parts at a fraction of the cost. He lost millions of dollars doing it, but I understood, and he had plenty of money not to worry about his own land.
Not all of them took him up on the offer, but a good few did, and I know that eased some of his guilt.
Instead of destroying Rossi Headquarters, he’s building on it, turning it into a training facility and riding school, and he’s closed down the factories and warehouses that had destroyed so many livelihoods.
While the effect of their dominance over the last several years won’t be swept away overnight, this is a step in the right direction.
It takes us a few hours to ride the northern fence line, but it’s all intact and by the time we turn back, the sun has started to set, turning the land around us dim and almost washed out and without the sun, the temperature plummets.
We ride back in silence, side by side, and when we return, the workers are in the mess hall, the sound of their laughter echoing through the ranch.
But we don’t turn to eat with them; instead, we get the horses away and head to the house where Judge is waiting for us with a wagging tail and a tongue lolling out the side of his mouth.
The warmth of the house works to remove the chill from my bones as I slide my boots off at the door and hang up my jacket, placing my hat beside his on the hook.
We’ve fallen into a somewhat domestic routine. Knox cooks while I set the table or make drinks or do some work, and then we eat together. It’s calm. Gentle.
It’s what I’ve needed after being at war my whole life.
I watch Knox prepare a fire in the fireplace, positioning the kindling and wood before he sets it alight and waits for it to take and warm the room. A blanket is over my legs, and a glass of wine is in my hand.
When he’s happy with the fire, he places the guard in front and heads over to me on the couch. Judge immediately finds his spot on the rug in front of the flames.
He settles in beside me and releases a heavy sigh, his hand over the C-shaped scar on my thigh, thumb working circles over the mark.
He may have had to put that there to save my life, but the scar has a whole new meaning now.
I don’t look at it and think of the time I almost died; I see it and recognize home in the curve of the letter.
“I never thought I’d make it here again, darlin’,” He speaks to the ceiling.
“Where?” I settle into him, taking a small sip of my wine.
“Happy,” He sighs, but it isn’t heavy, it’s content, and he rolls his head toward me, a softness in him that contradicts every hard part of him. “You make me fucking happy.”
“And you saved me,” I whisper.
“I’ll always be at your back, Hellion, you’ll never do anything alone.”
“Always?”
“Always.”