Chapter Eighteen
“You’re a bunch of snakes!” a man yelled, pounding the table so loud that cards scattered on the floor.
Grayson grumbled and rolled his eyes.
It was just the usual rowdy crowd of the night. Drunk fools, betting at poker. The floor was already damp in places from good whiskey that had been spilled as the night came into full swing.
That didn’t matter much to Grayson tonight, though. His interest lay solely in the man who hadn’t paid him yet. Pierce sat across from him, a bottle of cheap bourbon and a deck of cards between them, his scowl deeper than the scars on his knuckles.
“Where’d you get those?” Grayson asked, gesturing at the man’s hands as he took a sip of the whiskey, reveling in the feeling of straight fire sliding down his throat and settling in his belly. There was nothing like a good drink to warm a man up.
“Punching teeth. Sometimes glass.” But Pierce didn’t meet Grayson’s eyes as he said it.
Grayson chuckled and took another drink. The man didn’t seem as tough as he made himself sound.
“Play cards?” he asked, already shuffling the deck without waiting for an answer. He had no doubts about beating Pierce at cards. The man didn’t seem like the kind to play any sort of long game.
Which is why he’s going to lose this one.
He dealt the cards, glancing briefly at Pierce’s eyes. They were far from sharp. They were dicey. Twitchy. Just like his hands.
Good.
That meant he was desperate. To prove himself, or to win, or to get what he wanted. Whatever it was, Grayson was going to take advantage of it.
"You’re out of your mind,” Pierce finally spat, with far more acid than Grayson was fond of hearing. He decided he didn’t much like the way Pierce was looking at him. It seemed this man was trying to make an enemy out of him.
He'd better stop if he knows what’s good for him.
Grayson didn’t respond, merely picked up his hand of cards.
“You hear me?” Pierce growled. The men playing poker next to them paused, even in their drunken stupor. Funny, how they could be drunken fools and still have more sense than Pierce did.
And he just kept going. “You’re out of your mind!”
The men quickly looked away.
At least some of them can mind their business. Everyone in town knew better than to interfere with Grayson Remington’s business. At least, if they knew what was good for them.
Grayson smirked, swirling the bourbon in his glass. “Am I?” he asked. “Out of my mind?”
Pierce’s jaw clenched. “We had a deal, Remington. You find Josie Tate, you bring her to me, and I pay you what we agreed. That was the plan. Now you’ve got my money, and I still don’t have Josie Tate or my son.”
Grayson sighed and leaned back in his chair. “Yeah, well, plans change, and you agreed to the change.”
Pierce’s fingers curled into a fist, and for a moment, Grayson almost laughed. He really thinks he can fight and win? Here? The fool actually thought he could intimidate the man who owned Austin?
Apparently, Pierce did. “You listen to me,” he growled. “I didn’t hire you to play your own game. You just went in there, caused a ruckus and left! We saw her! She has my son. That girl—”
“That girl,” Grayson cut in smoothly, “is tucked away real cozy at the Montgomery ranch. You know what that means?”
Pierce looked at him, eyes dark, as if trying to intimidate him.
But Grayson wasn’t afraid. Not even a little.
He leaned in, the volume of his voice dropping lower.
“It means she ain’t alone. Means you can’t just ride in, grab her, and be done with it.
The Montgomerys are stubborn as mules and tough as nails.
You try to take her by force, and they’ll put you in the ground before you can even touch her. ”
Pierce scoffed—as if pretending he had a spine.
Grayson curled his lip in derision. You can’t fool me.
Either the man was so dense that he truly didn’t understand the danger, or he wanted to pretend like he was something he wasn’t. The Montgomerys were tough. And Pierce was not. It was clear as day who would come out the winner in a fight.
“But you wear ‘em down?” Grayson shrugged, taking another sip of bourbon. “You take their livelihood, make them bleed in ways they don’t see comin’? Then they’ll break. They’ll be desperate. And desperate men make deals. I’ve given them time to think.”
Pierce’s brow furrowed, and there was fear behind his eyes. But then he shook his head. “They ain’t gonna hand over their land.”
“Not today,” Grayson agreed. “Not tomorrow, either. But when we’re done with them?” He let the sentence hang there.
He’d had a few plans up his sleeve for a long time. Plans that were going to make the Montgomery boys regret the day they ever told him “no” the first time he’d asked to buy their ranch.
Pierce took a deep breath, exhaling harshly before reaching for the bottle. “You really think you can pull this off?” he asked, popping the cork.
Grayson grinned. “I don’t think—I know.”
If he wanted to break the Montgomerys, he had to be smart. Cutting fences was just the beginning. He needed more. A bigger hit. And he knew exactly where to start.