Chapter 25
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Harper
Song- freak for you, Haiden Henderson
“Morning,” I whisper, as Ace tugs me tighter against him, kissing my face all over.
I lift my leg over him, feeling his cock press against me.
“Oh, someone is excited to see me this morning,” I tease.
“Mmm. Very,” he says, pressing his lips against mine.
I roll my hips, chasing the pressure.
“Have you had breakfast already?” I ask, licking my lips.
I know he usually wakes up at the crack of dawn.
He rolls me onto my back, pinning my wrists above my head with one hand. He kicks open my thighs, his free hand sliding over my stomach, and into my panties.
“Fuck, soaked,” he grunts.
Slowly, he pushes inside me, curling his fingers to hit that spot that makes me cry out.
“That’a girl. Hear that? Hear what I do to you?”
I nod, biting my lip to try and stop myself from crashing over the edge too early.
“You’ve always been wet for me, Harper,” he murmurs against my lips.
When he slides his fingers out, I cry out in desperation.
“No. More. Please. I want more,” I beg.
He chuckles, bringing his glistening fingers to my lips. I open instinctively, and he pushes them in. His cock nudges against my pussy, and I lift my hips to give him better access.
“My naughty girl wants cock before she’s even had a coffee, huh?”
I nod.
Darkness flashes across his eyes as he tilts his head, just staring at me.
“You’re beautiful. You know that, right? The most gorgeous woman to ever exist.”
He inches himself in. Not enough.
My moans are muffled by his fingers.
“So fuckin’ tight. Fuck,” he hisses.
I bite down on his fingers as he thrusts all the way in, hard.
“Oh, Goldie,” he moans.
He replaces his fingers with his mouth, and then his tongue. His hand wraps around my throat, hitting that point that makes my head fuzzy.
Waves of pleasure crash over me, like nothing I’ve experienced before.
“More!” I whimper.
He pulls back, flips me onto all fours. Sweat drips on my forehead as I’m smothered into the pillows.
His hand is pressed between my shoulder blades as he thrusts back inside me.
“This what you want? Huh?”
“Yes!” I scream.
His hand cracks down on my ass, and my breath catches.
“Fuck,” he grunts. “I ain’t gonna last. Such a good girl, squeezin’ my cock like this.”
My whole body ignites, from my toes to my head.
“Ace!” I gasp.
His hand slides up the back of my head, and he grabs my hair by the scalp, pulling my head up.
“There she is. My girl.”
Every time his piercings rub against me, it sends another shock through me.
“Give it to me, Harper. All of you. Come for me, baby girl,” he orders.
And I do. And he doesn’t let up. Reaching his own release inside me. Grunting my name like a damn prayer.
When he pulls out, he flips my spent body, so I’m on my back, my arms flop above my head, and I blow my hair out of my face.
“Well, good mornin’,” I tease.
He smiles, running his hands along my side, which makes me giggle. I’m so sensitive.
“See, lasted longer that time,” he says with a wink.
He bends down, hovering over me. I slide my hands around his neck.
“I don’t care how long, Ace. Whatever you do, it makes me come so fast, it doesn’t matter.”
I glide my nails over his chest, over his rock-hard abs, and stop on the sunshine tattoo on his hip.
“Sunshine. Goldie. Same thing. You’re the light in my life, baby.”
I blush so hard. This man has two tattoos for me, which he got while we weren’t even together. That speaks volumes.
“Should I get an Ace tattoo?” I ask, biting my lip.
He arches an eyebrow.
“Yeah. My name here.” He rests his hand over my pussy. “And here.” He grabs my ass. “And here.” He cups my breast.
And then he grabs my throat. “Maybe around your throat like a necklace?”
I roll my eyes, and he tightens his grip.
“Don’t, Harper. You know what that does to me. And I gotta go to work.”
He presses a hard kiss to my lips and then sits up.
“What kinda work today?” I ask, sitting up myself.
He bites his lip. “I thought you didn’t wanna know?”
“Oh. I see…”
He nods. “Well, some pretty blonde needs some answers, I gotta go get the source, tie them up and make ‘em speak.”
I’m listening. But I’m so distracted. My eyes track his body. He’s huge, all over. Everything. His thighs. His dick. His chest. Arms. God. I’m wet again.
“Is it bad that I’m kinda turned on?”
He chuckles. “What, because I’m gonna torture some guys to get you answers?”
I bite my lip. “Yeah.”
When he says it like that… nope. Still hot.
“I do have to feed the horses with Wyatt first. You know, balance. Then Jett wants me to do some stupid fuckin’ workout videos before we train.”
I glance away. I’ve seen some of his social media content. I’ve read the thousands of comments thirsting over him.
“Harper Jones. Look at me.”
Reluctantly I do, blushing like crazy.
“Yes, Ace. I got myself off watching you do push-ups online. Alright? And I’m sure plenty of other women have too.”
He rubs his hands along my thighs and settles them on my ass.
“Damn, Goldie. If I’d have known the abs would bring ya back, I’d have let Jett convince me to do this bullshit five years ago.”
I tap his chest, and he grabs my wrist, bringing it up to his lips. I yank it free and get on all fours.
His dick is already hard. Without breaking eye contact, I run my tongue along the ridges of his eight-pack.
“Mine,” I say as I work my way up to his throat.
He grabs my ass and squeezes.
“I’m gonna be late, Hunter’s gonna be pissed,” he murmurs.
I kiss his neck and then suck on the skin. Marking him. Mine.
“Fuck it.” He pushes me onto my back. “I’ll be late. Spread those legs, pretty girl,” he growls. “And this time, you don’t come until I give you permission. Understood?”
Excitement buzzes through me.
“Yes, sir.”
The New Falls town offices haven't changed.
Same brick building on the corner of Main and Third. Same pole out front with the Arizona state flag hanging limp in the morning heat. Same cracked concrete steps, same glass door with the hours posted in faded cardstock that nobody's updated since 2019.
I used to come here with my dad when I was a kid. He'd file ranch permits, chat with whoever was behind the counter for forty-five minutes about nothing, and buy me a soda from the machine in the lobby on the way out.
I push through the door. The air conditioning hits me, and I take a breath. I had Ace drop me home this morning so I could shower and get some fresh clothes on. My rental car was already in the drive thanks to Jett.
I need the sales records for Ranch 42. The transfer documents, the purchase agreement, the land survey—anything that shows who bought it, when, and for how much.
If the Greeks acquired that property through legal channels, there's a paper trail.
And if there's a paper trail, I can follow it back to whoever's funding the operation.
The lobby is empty except for a woman behind the front counter. She's got her head down, scrolling through her phone, long acrylic nails tapping against the screen. Blonde hair pulled back in a high ponytail. Too much bronzer. A name tag that reads Tiffany.
My stomach drops.
Tiffany Lane.
The girl who made my life hell from sixth grade through sophomore year. The girl who called me ranch trash in front of the cafeteria. Who put gum in my hair on the bus. Who told every boy in our class that I smelled like horse shit and no one would ever want to touch me.
Until I started dating Ace Sterling. And then Tiffany Lane couldn't even look in my direction without her hands shaking, because the name Sterling in this town means something, and the boy who had his arm around my shoulders was not the kind of boy you fucked with.
She stopped. Overnight. Never said another word to me. Crossed the hallway when she saw me coming. And now she's sitting behind a counter in the town offices with the same ponytail and the same nails and what I'm guessing is the same personality.
I approach the counter. She doesn't look up.
"Hi. I need to request some property transfer records," I say.
"Take a number." She gestures at an empty ticket dispenser without lifting her eyes from her phone.
"There's no one else here, Tiffany."
Her head snaps up. Her eyes narrow. The recognition takes about three seconds, and I watch it land, the confusion first, then the placement, then the oh shit.
"Harper Jones." She leans back in her chair. "Well, well. The girl who ran off to the big city."
"The girl who's back. And needs property records."
She arches an eyebrow. Looks me up and down the way she used to in the hallway.
"What property?"
"Ranch 42. Recent sale. I need the transfer documents, the purchase agreement, and the land survey if you've got it."
She sucks her teeth. "That's a lot of paperwork. Might take a while."
"I've got time."
"Might take a long while." She picks her phone back up. "We're pretty backed up."
I look around the empty lobby. The empty chairs. My fists clench.
"Backed up with what, exactly?"
She doesn't answer. Just keeps scrolling.
A power play so transparent it's almost embarrassing. Almost. Except I’m now dealing with Hudson Blake, Gianna Milano, and an assortment of mafia associates who could end a life over lunch and not lose their appetite.
Tiffany Lane and her acrylic nails don't even register on my threat scale anymore.
I rest both hands on the counter and lean in.
"Tiffany. I know you remember me. And I know you remember what happened the last time you decided to make my life difficult." I smile. "So let's skip the part where you pretend to be busy, and you can go pull those records for me. I'd really appreciate it."
Her jaw tightens. She puts the phone down.
"You don't scare me anymore, Harper. You don’t have Ace to fight your battles."
I laugh. “Ace just fucked me more times in one morning than you get all year. So yeah, I do. And I’ll call him if you want? Perhaps get Hunter Sterling down here, too.” I tilt my head. “Would you like me to do that? Or are you going to go do your job… Tiff.”
Her face goes red. She opens her mouth, and a door behind her swings open.
"Harper? Harper Jones, is that you?"
A man steps out from the back office. Tall, gray-haired, with reading glasses perched on his nose. He's got a coffee mug in one hand, a stack of folders in the other, and a grin spreading across his weathered face.
Dale Hutchins. My dad's oldest friend. They still play poker every other Thursday. He's been the records manager here since before I was born.
"Mr. Hutchins!" The relief almost buckles my knees. "It's so good to see you."
"Good to see you, sweetheart. Your dad told me you were back in town." He sets the folders on the counter and pulls me into a one-armed hug. "You look just like your mother. How's LA treating you?"
"It's... an adventure."
He chuckles. "That's a diplomatic answer." He glances at Tiffany, who has suddenly become very interested in her keyboard. "Everything okay out here?"
"Just requesting some records. Tiffany was about to pull them for me."
Dale looks at Tiffany. Tiffany looks at her screen.
"What do you need, Harper?"
"Ranch 42. Recent property transfer. Sale documents, purchase agreement, land survey—whatever you've got on file."
He nods, already moving toward the back. "Give me five minutes. I know exactly where that is; it came through a few weeks back. Caused quite a stir."
"Stir how?"
He pauses at the door. "Well, a ranch that's been in the Carson family for generations suddenly selling off? People talk. Especially when nobody around here recognizes the buyer's name. People don’t like that. Especially when everything had to be done silently."
He disappears into the back. I stand at the counter. Tiffany types furiously at nothing.
"It was really nice catching up, Tiff," I say.
She doesn't respond.
Dale comes back with a folder and sets it on the counter, and slides it across to me.
"Transfer of sale, recorded three weeks ago. Buyer is listed as a company, Aegean Holdings LLC."
"Thank you. Can I take copies?"
"Already copied. Those are yours." He taps the folder. "Your dad know what you're up to?"
"He doesn’t need to know."
Dale studies me for a moment. The same way my dad looks at me when he knows I'm not telling the whole story, but trusts me enough to let it go.
"You be careful, Harper. There's been some strange folks around here lately. Not the usual kind of strange. The dangerous kind."
"I will. Thank you, Mr. Hutchins. Really."
"Anytime, sweetheart. Tell your dad I'll see him Thursday."
I tuck the folder under my arm and walk out into the sun. The heat hits me after the air conditioning, and I stand on the steps for a moment, squinting against the glare.
I flip open the folder and start scanning.
Aegean Holdings LLC. Registered in Nevada. Filed six weeks ago, the company itself is barely a month older than the sale. That's a shell company. Has to be. You don't form an LLC in Nevada and buy a ranch in Arizona three weeks later unless you're hiding who's really writing the checks.
The purchase price is listed at $21.2 million.
For a ranch that size, in that condition, with that land?
It's low. Way too low. Carson's property is rough, but the acreage alone is worth double that.
Either Carson got desperate, or someone made him an offer that came with the kind of pressure you don't say no to.
The signatures are there. Carson's. A representative for Aegean Holdings, a name I don't recognize.
But something feels off. But to Hunter? This might be gold if he can decode it. And then, something for me to give Gianna.
I flip to the land survey. It's dated two weeks before the sale, which tracks. Except that the survey company listed is Pinnacle Land Services. I grew up here, so I know every surveyor, every assessor, every company that's ever stuck a stake in the dirt within fifty miles of New Falls.
I pull out my phone and search for the name. Nothing. No website. No reviews. No business registration in Arizona.
A surveyor that doesn't exist, attached to a shell company that's barely a month old, buying a ranch at half its value.
This doesn't feel like a sale. It feels like a stage set.
Everything in the right place, all the right paperwork, filed and stamped and official.
Someone wanted this to look legitimate. They did a decent job.
But decent isn't good enough when the person looking is a criminal journalist who was trained to find the cracks in stories people don't want told.
I close the folder and head for my car.
I need to talk to Hunter. Because either the Greeks bought Ranch 42 through the most suspicious shell company in Nevada history, or they didn't buy it at all.
And if they didn't buy it, if Carson still owns that land and this whole sale is a front, then the question isn't what the Greeks are doing at Ranch 42.
It's what Carson is doing with the Greeks.
And that changes everything. Because this might give Hunter their weak spot.
But that also might open the doors for Gianna. And the last thing the Sterlings need is the Milano family making a move in New Falls.