Chapter 40
CHAPTER FORTY
HUNTER
“Jerry, what the fuck happened?” I ask as he hops out of the truck.
I take another drag of my cigarette and blow it out slowly, watching him wipe the sweat from his forehead. Paulie climbs out of the passenger side, looking pissed as hell.
“These two little assholes tried to shoot us up on the track back. Dumbasses thought we wouldn’t spot a sparkling, new Mercedes parked next to a cactus.” Jerry spits in the dirt. “Fuckin’ idiots.”
“Either of them talk?”
Jerry shakes his head. “Well, one got a bullet between the eyes on sight. The other only took a hit on the shoulder. So he might talk if you scare him enough.”
I nod. Take one last drag and stub the cigarette out beneath my boot.
I walk over to the truck and run my fingers along the bullet hole in the side panel.
Feel the jagged edge of the metal where it punched through.
Every month, my guys do the same run—different routes, same cargo.
Arms from Mikhail Volkov in Vegas. From there, I either send them to Frankie in New York or out to the Quinn brothers in Pennsylvania.
Sometimes, other places, depending on where Enzo wants them, and who had the highest bid.
We get some nice pieces flowing through here.
Unusual shit you can’t just walk into a store and buy.
Shit designed for a war, not a ranch shootout.
“Get him out,” I order, and bang on the back of the trailer.
I’ve put word out to Enzo that I need him, but I’m still waiting for him to make contact. He’s getting harder and harder to get hold of these days, and we all know something’s brewing on his end. To him, my turf war with the Greeks is background noise.
But he still needs us. So he’ll help me. Once he hits that goddamn call button.
I sent word to Drago, too, even though he’s living the quiet life in Monaco now with his wife and kid. Doesn’t matter. He’s still in the game. You never leave this circus. The tent just gets bigger. And if anyone can reach Enzo, it’ll be him or Frankie. I need one of them to come through with this.
Jerry and Paulie drag the limp body of the Greek out of the trailer and toss him on the ground.
They rip the bag off his head as he sputters.
Blood soaks through his shirt where the bullet caught his shoulder, which is not helped by the fact that his arms are tied behind his back. He blinks against the sunlight.
I step in front of him and just stare.
“What do you want with me? Why not kill me?” he shouts.
I arch a brow. Pull my gun calmly from the holster. Flick off the safety. “Good question, boy. Good fuckin’ question.”
I crouch down.
“You can kill me, Hunter. But they’ve got more men just like me. Nobodies with nothing to lose. They’ll just keep sending them. And one day, they’ll get you.”
I nod slowly. Like I’m genuinely considering it. “Hmm. Was that supposed to scare me?”
His eyes go dark. “It should.”
I click my tongue against my teeth. “And you think we haven’t been battling to keep this place alive our entire lives? You think we’ve never come up against anyone like you?”
He shakes his head. “I know you haven’t. You’re cowboys. Not mafia. It’s a different league.”
I scoff. It almost comes out as a laugh.
“They really didn’t give you the write-up on my family, did they?
” I press the tip of the gun under his jaw, and he swallows against the barrel.
“Because if they did, you’d know I’ve worked for the most feared mafia families in the world.
That half my life is dedicated to this ranch, the other half to the organization I fuckin’ lead here. ”
I lean closer. Close enough that he can see his own reflection in my eyes.
“So no. Your family doesn’t scare me. Not with your fancy cars and cocaine up your nose. You should be petrified that I’ll step foot out of New Falls and shoot up everyone you love. You’re starting wars with cowboys.” I tilt my head. “And we ain’t scared to make shit go bang.”
He blows out a shaky breath. His whole body is trembling.
“Now, you’re going to end up in an unmarked grave next to your friend. And no one will ever step foot on my property to say goodbye. All because you thought you could take a shot at my family.”
He squeezes his eyes shut, I pull the trigger, and his body drops onto the dirt with a thud that barely disturbs the dust.
I stand, holster the gun, and brush myself off. This is an inconvenience at best. I can’t change who I am. And I have to pray to God that Lola accepts me for exactly that. Darkness and all.
But none of that means shit if I can’t find the person who killed Ashley before it gets pinned on me. “Jerry, get some more hands in to bury these fast. I’ll let Colten know your change of the schedule for today.”
As I turn, Ace arrives on his stallion, Seven. The horse is blowing hard, flanks slick with sweat, as Ace pulls him up in a spray of dirt.
“Ace. I need you to go back and start unloading the arms that Jerry brought into the barn.”
“Yeah, no problem. I’ve heard word from some of Ashley’s neighbours that some men have been sniffin’ round her place. Going to send some guys to discreetly keep watch, see who we catch in our traps,” Ace tells me.
“Good work.” I nod, stroking Seven’s mane.
He tips his hat and wheels Seven around.
I hop in my truck and head back toward the house.
Checking every pasture as I pass. Every fence line.
Every treeline. Everything around me is calm.
Peaceful. The ranch has never run smoother.
The cattle are healthy, the horses are strong, and the crew is solid.
Ace is making his bull riding come back, putting the Sterling name on the map.
And our horses are making big money at shows.
The ranch is doing exactly what it should be. It would make my dad proud.
Yet, outside these fences, it’s going to shit. It’s like I put out one fire and another erupts before the smoke has cleared. We needed the mafia to keep the ranch alive, yet it’s the very same thing that could kill everything. It was a risk my dad knew. But it will be me who pays the price for it.
As I pull up outside the house and cut the engine, I hear a shriek. I glance over at the bull pen, and my heart damn nearly explodes on the spot.
Lola and Wyatt. Running in circles, being chased by not just Gary but all of his goat friends, bleating and sprinting, hooves clattering on the hard ground.
Wyatt is screaming with laughter. Lola’s red hair flying behind her, that damn hat still on her head, and she’s shrieking so loud it echoes off the barn.
They’re having the time of their lives. City girl looks good here. Happy even.
I sit in the truck and watch them. My son and my girl.
And then my phone rings.
Finally. Fucking Enzo.
I answer the call and wait for the line to secure.
“Hunter. What do you need? I don’t have long.” Enzo’s Italian accent fills the cab.
“I’ll keep it short and sweet. I got two problems. One, you know about: The Greek mafia based in LA. They want me to join them. I told them to fuck off, and now they’re retaliating, shooting up our shipments. Making threats.”
“I can send some guys to you to go to LA and finish it?”
I scratch the back of my neck. “It leads me into prong two, Enzo. I got arrested for murder, and I’ve got ninety days to prove my innocence. They’re sayin’ I killed my kids' mom.”
He laughs. A proper, full-bellied laugh that crackles through the phone line. “Fucking hell, Hunter. Did you do it?”
“No. I didn’t. She’s Wyatt’s mom. I’m not that much of an asshole.” I watch Lola scoop Wyatt up and gently swing him onto her good hip. Wyatt never had moments like this with Ashley. There was no laughter. No fun. No mother's love.
I shake my head, pulling myself back into the present. Into the mess I need to clear up. “I think the Greeks are involved. I was set up, but it’s a different town from the cops on my payroll. And they want a murderer. I need to give them one.”
I hear him sigh.
“I can’t leave New Falls until it’s dealt with. And I fired my lawyer.”
“Fuck,” he hisses.
“How would the Greeks have known you were going to be there? I’ve told you before, coincidences don’t happen in this life,” he says.
It’s not often you get this deep a conversation from Enzo. That man is on his own mission for world domination, and I’ve heard through the grapevine, hunting for a woman that he lost years ago.
I sigh, rubbing a hand over my face. “I’m either being tailed. Or I have a fuckin’ rat problem. I’m hoping it’s the first option.”
“Okay, okay. We’ll fix this. I can get Romeo to arrange everything for you, whatever you need; he will get it done. I just need you and your brothers on hand the second I say so. So we need this cleared up.”
I nod. “I need a lawyer. Preferably someone good at making dirty deals with the feds. I’ve called Drago already, but he’s waiting for your call.
And I need some help finding the person who actually murdered Wyatt’s mom.
That’ll lead us to the source of the bigger issue.
Because if some fuck has set me up, I need to know who that is and deal with them. ”
“Yeah. You do.” A pause that weighs more than the words around it. “Trust no one, Hunter. I’ll have resources looking into it. I’ll send over Romeo’s number. Work with him. Whoever did it won’t be able to hide from us.”
Finally. Some light at the end of the tunnel. Romeo is Enzo’s second-in-command. The guy Enzo sends when shit is heading south.
This is why my dad made the deal with Enzo all those years ago. The connections he has are powerful enough to make murder charges disappear. Powerful enough to keep Sterling Ranch standing for another generation.
“And what shall I do about the Greeks?” I ask.
“They come near you, keep killing them until we devise a better plan. Let’s fight battles the smart way. We don’t want a war on all fronts. They’re small fish in a big pond.”
I blow out a breath and glance up through the windshield. Lola and Wyatt are leaning on the metal railings of the pen now. Both are watching my truck. Wyatt waves. Lola’s hand rests on his shoulder. My hat on her head. The sun behind them.
“Alright. I’ll reach out to Romeo. Get this murder charge gone, and then we can figure out the LA shit.”
“I’ll send Drago over to you,” Enzo confirms.
Perfect. That’s exactly what I need. A petrifying Russian mobster who moonlights as a lawyer. If nothing else, he’ll scare the officers into a deal just by walking into the room. And Reese? He won’t stand a chance against Drago. Will probably piss himself on first sight.
The call ends, and I sit there for a beat. Then I’m out of the truck and moving. Not walking. Nearly running. Across the yard, past the barn, over to the pen where Lola and Wyatt are waiting.
I can’t go to jail. I fucking won’t. Because I’ve got these two right here.
I stop as I approach them. Wyatt grins up at me with dirt on his face. Lola smiles, reading my expression the way she’s already learned to, checking for damage, looking for the thing I’m not saying.
And a thought lands in my head that stops me cold. If shit goes south—and by the tone in Enzo’s voice, it may well do—Lola has no protection. Not legally. Not in any way that matters.
She’s not a Sterling.
As it stands, if something happens to me, the ranch goes to Beau. And Beau has no reason to keep her safe here. None of my brothers do, really. Not in the way the law demands. Not in the way that would force their hand if I wasn’t around to force it myself.
If it were Ace taking control, I’d trust him to do the right thing.
But if she were my wife?
She’d have an interest in the ranch. She’d carry my name. And in this town, the Sterling name is a shield that no one dares test.
My brothers would have an obligation. Not just a moral one. A legal, binding, unbreakable one.
Fuck.
I wasn’t joking this morning. I need her to be my wife.