Chapter Ten
Galveston, Texas
Trey leaned back in his chair and crumpled the letter in his hand, his anger bubbling.
June Thatcher.
She and her orphan friends had been a pain in his side for years now.
Anger filled his nostrils as he threw the paper at his feet.
This office, one of the many he owned across several cities in Texas, was spacious enough.
He liked the dark wood paneling on every wall, and the window that overlooked the city.
“Can you believe this?” he snarled, more to himself than Asher Burns. His right-hand man was standing at the far end of the room, near the window, watching impassively as he slammed his hand down on his desk with a heavy thump.
“They think they can just run off and ruin everything I’ve built? Everything I’ve worked for?”
Asher said nothing at first. His hawkish eyes flicked from the city outside back to Trey. “How much do they still owe you?” he finally asked.
Trey’s lip curled in disgust as he leaned forward, stabbing a finger at the surface of his desk.
“It’s not just about the money—though that’s plenty bad enough.
The failed cleaning heists cost me a pretty penny.
The time wasted trying to plan it? Even more than that.
And now this? This little stunt? They’ve up and disappeared, just to make up their own little heist?
We’re bleeding money. Bleeding. Hemorrhaging it.
And I’m supposed to sit here while they figure it all out? ”
He stood up and began pacing behind the desk.
“June is clever,” Asher pointed out.
Trey snarled. “Clever?” he snapped, his voice rising, dripping with venom. “You think I give a darn how clever any of them are? They’re my property. My investment. And now they’ve gone off rogue somewhere.”
His boots struck the hardwood floor in deliberate, angry steps. “I should’ve seen it coming. Should’ve known better than to trust some desperate orphan girls. Desperation makes people bold, Asher. Bold and foolish.”
Asher’s expression didn’t change. He was generally always stoic, but there was a faint shift in his posture, as if he was subtly acknowledging Trey’s growing rage. “So… what’s the plan?” he asked calmly.
“The plan is to remind them who they’re dealing with,” Trey snapped.
He stopped pacing and turned to face his most trusted employee, bracing his hands stiffly on the desk.
“I want them found. I don’t care what it takes.
I don’t care who we have to bribe or threaten.
They think they can just disappear until they’re ready to pay up? Not on my watch.”
Asher raised an eyebrow. “And what happens when we find them? Don’t forget that they’re pretty good at what they do. That was why you trusted them with the heist in the first place. They look innocent. Sweet and beautiful. They can still do a lot for us.”
Trey shot him a cold smile. “When we find them, we still make an example of them. No one crosses me and gets away with it. No one.”
Asher lifted his eyebrows slightly. “Just be careful not to draw the wrong kind of attention. There are a lot of marshals onto us right now.”
Trey scoffed. He didn’t like Asher’s tone. Of course he knew about the marshals—he wasn’t stupid. “What’s the point of power if you don’t use it? Let them talk. Let them whisper. I’ve got enough money to quiet anyone who matters and keep all the lawmen at bay.”
Asher remained still.
“Well?” Trey barked. “Get some men on it!”
“Consider it done,” Asher replied. “But if something goes south—”
“It won’t,” Trey interrupted. “Because you’ll make sure it doesn’t.”
Without another word, Asher took off out the office door.
Trey plopped back into his chair bitterly, drumming his fingers on top of his desk. His anger was a slow burn that seemed to be getting hotter every second. He bent down and picked up the letter again.
“You think you’re clever,” he muttered to the letter as if he was speaking to June herself. “But you’re not. You’re nothing but a foolish little girl who doesn’t know her place.”
There was a knock on the large oak door. “What?” he barked.
Another one of his men stepped in, white-rimmed hat in hand. “Sir, there’s an issue with the east pasture. Looks like the fence got busted in the storm last night.”
Trey’s jaw tightened. Great. Another problem. Something else he didn’t want to have to deal with.
He shoved the letter into his top drawer and stood. “I’ll take care of it,” he said curtly, brushing past the man.
He needed some air anyway. If anyone crossed him today without cooling off, he might very well shoot them with his revolver. Square in the face.
How dare she?
How dare she think she could double-cross him like that and not come back immediately to face the consequences? How dare she think she had the right to go off and earn money to pay him back?
She can’t start over. She can’t build a life away from me.
And the sooner she learned that, the better. There was no escaping Trey Bishop.
***
Trey watched carefully as Asher traced the rim of his whiskey glass.
It was a long-engrained habit, from what Trey could tell after years of careful observation.
He didn't know the full story of what Asher Burns had been doing before he’d landed in this position.
As far as he was concerned, the boy had made it.
He was living large right next to one of the most ruthless and famous criminals in the West.
Fifteen years ago, Asher had been nothing more than a street-smart teenager out East, working odd jobs, running small cons to keep food on the table for his sick mother.
Trey had first noticed him during a poker game.
He was trying to bluff his way to bigger and better things, but Trey had taken one look at him and decided that there were other plans for him.
He liked Asher’s tenacity. His charisma.
His guts. He had approached Asher about some work, helped him with funds to keep his mother alive for a couple more years.
Then, when she’d finally kicked the bucket, Trey had used it to his advantage.
Asher Burns had quickly surrendered his moral compass over to him.
It was just the way Trey liked in a mutt. A dog. An employee.
It was getting late, and he was getting tired. He wasn’t sure what had exhausted him more: building back the fence and taking care of animals in the hot sun, all by himself, for the first time in as long as he could remember, or being fuming mad the entire day.
But he was tired.
After returning to his office, he’d gone straight to his desk and pulled out the bottle of whiskey he’d stashed there for times like this.
When he’d turned around to take a swig straight from the bottle, Asher had been leaning against the wall with a small, satisfied grin on his face.
Trey had poured him a glass to get him talking.
“What is it?” he growled now, watching Asher continue to run a finger along the lip of the glass.
He took a sip from his bottle, feeling burning liquid roll down his throat, and sat down in his chair.
“I’ve been thinking,” Asher began pensively. “Maybe there’s a better way to handle this situation with June.”
Trey raised an eyebrow, but didn’t interrupt. The whiskey was soothing. And besides, Asher was the only one who had enough tenacity to talk to him like this. Trey had grown to respect the man. Employee though he was, the guy was smart, and he sure was fearless.
“How about you just leave them to fend for themselves?” Asher suggested. Trey’s face twisted into a scowl as he continued. “If they’re out there on their own, without anyone to help them, they’ll come crawling back. Sooner or later.”
Trey snorted. “Ain’t that the truth.”
“They can’t make it without you. They’re smart enough to know that.”
Trey’s mouth twisted into a bitter smirk as he took another swig of his whiskey. That was true, too. “You think they’d come back willingly?”
“Maybe not willingly,” Asher admitted. “But desperation’s a funny thing. That’s what got them into this mess in the first place, and that’s what’s kept them around this long.”
Trey took another long sip of whiskey, considering the idea.
The thought of letting the girls flounder was tempting… but it was a lot more tempting to just kill them.
Asher leaned forward, his tone shifting slightly. “Look, I get it. You’re angry. But think about it. Those girls are darn good at what they do. Stealing, scheming—they’re naturals. That’s not something you find every day. They’ve made you a lot of money before, and they can do it again.”
Trey’s eyes narrowed, his grip tightening on the bottle. “You’re saying I should just forgive and forget?”
“I’m saying you’re a businessman,” Asher said shrewdly. “You know the value of a good asset. And those girls are some of the best you’ve got. Let me go find them. Talk to them. I’ll bring them back here and they can work on paying you back.”
Trey leaned back, pursing his lips.
He wanted to put a bullet right between each of their eyes for what they’d pulled… but Asher wasn’t wrong.
The only sound in the room was the faint crackle of the fire in the hearth, and it was just enough to pull him back into the moment.
Finally, with a large, relenting sigh, he set his bottle down with a decisive clink. “Fine. Go. But if they cross me again, there won’t be any more second chances.”
Asher nodded. “You won’t regret it.”
“I’d better not.”