39 #2
Declan’s face stays placid. “I’ll admit I was wrong,” he says. “I should have offered you what your land is worth. I should have tried other negotiation tactics. So, I’ve come to make amends. Your community is loyal. Your town is honest, which has me feeling ... let’s just say generous.”
“Negotiations?” I take a step forward. Ruby slips her hand around my bicep, her touch calm and reassuring. “Don’t you mean sabotage? I know what you tried to do.”
“Call it what you will, but putting hands on my son wasn’t a wise move, Mr. Montgomery.”
I clench my teeth so hard my jaw aches. “I’ll put hands on anyone who touches my family. Your son got off lucky in my book.”
A long sigh, then the mask slips on Valiante’s face. “I’ve been a nice man, Mr. Montgomery. I’ve sent someone to talk. I’ve offered money. I have pushed. But now ...” Declan unbuttons his suit jacket, exposing a holstered gun on his waistband.
All I see is red.
Is this motherfucker really threatening me?
“Ruby,” I say, pressing her back slowly. “Go into the house. Now.”
She doesn’t move.
I glance down at her. She’s staring at Declan with narrowed eyes.
“Go, baby.” I give her a pat on the ass, and she scowls, but lets me usher her inside. Relief courses through me.
I want her far away from this confrontation, because Declan’s about two seconds from getting his head ripped off.
“This isn’t up for discussion,” I say gruffly. “We’re not selling, so get off my property.”
His lip curls. “You might want to rethink your decision. By refusing DVL, refusing me, you play with fire, Mr. Montgomery. I know people in Chicago who can make your life a living hell.”
I snort as he buttons up his jacket. This piece of shit is all show. Never in a million years would he use his gun. He’ll get someone else to do his dirty work.
That’s when I see Declan’s eyes on Ruby. The angle of his gaze, intense and scrutinizing, sets off an atom bomb inside of me.
No more calm. No more thinking. I act. I bare my teeth and advance, grabbing the collar of his shirt to shove him backward off the porch, putting Ruby out of his sight.
And then I hit him with the crushing blow of a car crash, pinning him up against the side of my cabin.
Declan makes some type of huffy protest, but I shut him up real fast when I tighten my grip.
“Don’t look at her,” I growl, and his panicked eyes flick to mine.
“Look at me and hear what I’m telling you.
I’ll say it once. You think you know people?
I am the people. Stay away from my land.
Stay away from my family. You come on my property again and I won’t call the cops.
I’ll take care of it right then and there.
You think I have ten thousand acres just for cattle, you worthless piece of shit? ”
With that, I leave the man sputtering in my gravel drive and storm inside, slamming the door behind me.
Seconds later, the sound of an engine.
Ruby’s at the island, her eyes glued to her phone. She’s trembling, her face pale, but her expression determined.
“Baby.” I go to her, wrapping her up in my arms. “You okay?”
“He’s a bad man, Charlie,” she whispers against my chest. “He’s the one who hurt Wyatt.”
I grip her chin and force her gaze to mine. “What did he say to you?”
“He didn’t say anything.”
I exhale and hold her tight, drawing comfort from the feel of her body, soft and safe in my arms.
Through the window, I see Davis’s cherry-red F-350 rumbling down the drive.
Fucking took them long enough.
“Charlie,” Ruby says in a voice that sends shivers down my spine. She stands straight, looking up at me. Her phone’s clasped to her heart. “I need to show you something.”
The living room is bathed in light. Whiskey bottles crowd the coffee table. Ford and Wyatt are sprawled out on the couch. Outside, thunder rumbles.
Davis paces behind the couch, his eyes on Ruby’s phone, on the photo of Declan Valiante.
Ruby stands shyly on the sidelines, back by the fireplace, until I murmur into her hair, “Sit down, Sunflower.”
She shakes her head. “This is family stuff.”
“You’re part of our family,” I tell her firmly, staring into her bright blue eyes. “Whether or not you like it.”
A beam of a smile hits her lips.
Davis lifts his hand. “Charlie, you just saw this?”
I rub my jaw. “I did.” I look at Ruby, her pretty face uncertain. “Tell ‘em, baby.”
Perching on the edge of the couch, Ruby spends the next ten minutes explaining the night she took the photo to all my brothers. She and Fallon in the back alley, watching the scene at the brothel, not knowing that the man in question was Declan Valiante.
I stand behind Ruby and cross my arms over my chest.
When she’s done, she puffs a lock of hair out of her face. “I didn’t know who he was,” she says. “I just took it.” Her nose wrinkles. “Blame Fallon.”
“Fuck,” Ford exhales, taking the phone from Davis.
The image is clear enough. It’s gold.
Declan Valiante with a woman at the brothel, pants around his ankles. No denying his trademark shock of silver hair, or the belt buckle shining bright with his family crest.
The same belt buckle that ties him to his wife and son.
That ties them to their dirty summer deeds.
Ford passes the phone to Wyatt.
“Damn,” Wyatt says. “Ruby went hard as fuck for real.”
I grin.
That’s my girl.
She flops back against the couch, curling her legs beneath her. “I don’t want this to cause trouble.”
“Nah.” Davis tosses Ruby a smile. “It won’t. You helped us out. A hell of a lot.”
Wyatt grins, tilting his whiskey toward me. “We got ammunition now.”
Ruby looks uneasy.
“Valiante say anything else when he was here?” Ford asks, his eyes on me.
“Typical bullshit,” I grouse. “Said we were playing with fire. That he knows some folks in Chicago who could make our lives hell.”
Wyatt scoffs.
My free hand balls into a fist. I rove a cool gaze around Ruby, my brothers. “They’re not turning Resurrection into some cement city. This is our town and we protect it.”
A blanket of seriousness falls over the room.
“They used social media to fuck with us. We use it when we need it,” Davis’s loud voice booms. A gavel of finality.
Ford shoots back his whiskey. “Campaign season.”
“Damn straight,” I agree.
Releasing the photo will blow up Valiante’s entire world. It’ll ruin his wife’s business, his son’s chances at college, destroy his career as a politician. With one hell of a fight on his hands, he’ll have more important shit to deal with than targeting the ranches in Resurrection.
“Stede has that contact in Missoula at the paper,” Wyatt reminds us. “We could give the photo to him. Let him put it on all that social media shit Ruby loves.”
Ruby’s teeth sink into her lower lip. “Is that smart? Should we do that?” She looks around the room, worried, then up at me.
I blow out a deep breath and put a reassuring hand on her shoulder, pulling her closer, needing the proximity to her.
She still seems concerned.
Davis, locking his eyes to mine, laughs and sighs at the same time. “They declared war first. We’re just gonna end it.”
Wyatt lifts his whiskey glass in a toast. “Cheers to social media.”
Ford rubs at his temples. “Let’s hope we get out of it in one fucking piece.”