Chapter 29
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
RHETT
M y eyes fly to Wylie who looks just as smug as her older brother, and I suddenly want to retch. Because Maverick is looking at her too, like he’s caught on to their matching confidence. Like he knows the tables have turned in the game.
Fuck , I think, turning my gaze to Colt to find a bead of sweat sliding from his temple as he concentrates on the table in front of him. He’s sweating , even though he’s already out of the round.
He knows too, then. Mother fucker .
Anger flares hot and bright through my chest at the realization of what the Rustlers have done and the danger Ellis is throwing us in. That they’d kept me in the dark, knowing I likely wouldn’t be here if I’d known the truth. A trap for only Maverick and these cowboys from Cheyenne, but one set for me too. Because they know I’ll fight for them, despite all their fucking bullshit.
It takes a sharp focus to keep my emotions in check while we still sit around the table. Ellis might be able to get away with pulling wool over the eyes of dumb cowboys or unknowing tourists, but to try to pull it over Maverick is fucking foolish. And we don’t know these Cheyenne boys well enough to know we can get away with bullshit like this. He’s just upped the ante on the whole thing, from illegal gambling to outright stealing, and when this goes south—because it will fucking go south—we’re going to have to fight our way out of here.
God, no wonder the pot is so damn high. Ellis never intended to lose.
I look back at him and find him watching me, the corner of his mouth rising. I glare back at the cocky son-of-a-bitch as that molten anger spreads through my body, mixed with a fear I haven’t felt in a long time and hoped I’d never have to feel again. “All right, fellas,” Ellis says. “Last hand of the night, and all the cards are down. Let’s make it count.”
Maverick fastens his oily gaze on Ellis, and my pulse kicks up another notch. I look at the cards clutched in my hand, skimming over the full house I’ve secured. A good hand, all things considered—but I doubt it fucking matters with whatever Ellis has cooking up.
All eyes turn to me, and I realize it’s my turn. There’s still a small pile of cash in the backpack at my feet for me to raise this bet even higher, and knowing the players from Cheyenne came with half a mill bets means there’s still plenty of room to do so. But Maverick looks furious as it is, and I’m worried raising the bet past his limits is going to lead to bloodshed.
I could fold , I think. I could fold and bid this table farewell and get the fuck out of here. There’s a girl waiting for me, and I want nothing more than to leave Ellis and his bullshit behind so I can race home to her. And if it was just Ellis at this table, I might fucking do it.
But Colt sits next to me, Wylie beside him. And I’m mad as hell they chose to keep me in the dark, but Ellis can’t protect them both from the monsters at this table. Not without help. And I’m not particularly fond of the idea of having their deaths on my conscience.
So I wave my hand to stay and hope like fucking hell there’s a way out of this without anyone getting hurt.
Next to me, the first cowboy folds. “I’m out,” he says nonchalantly, dropping two cards from his hand to the table. He briefly looks at his partner next to him—the first look I’ve seen them share all day—and then leans back in his chair with an expression that’s hard to read.
The man next to him straightens, looking down at his cards. Silence wraps around the entire barn as he considers, and my heart pounds so hard in my chest I don’t doubt everyone can hear it. And then he moves, taking a deep breath before saying, “I’m gonna raise another two fifty.” His accent is thick, but different than ours. We all watch as he pushes stacks of banded cash toward the middle of the table.
And I decide I can’t do this anymore. The amount of money on the table is almost sickening, and I can’t bring myself to add to it, to keep playing this game. I’ll stick around for the fight that’s no doubt about to take shape, to keep my best friend safe, but I’m not participating in Ellis’s fucking schemes. He has a death wish as far as I’m concerned.
So I throw my hand on the table in a show of defiance, look right at Ellis, and say, “I fold.” His eyes narrow, but I don’t care. This isn’t a numbers game anymore, and it doesn’t matter that I’m not still in play.
Maverick clicks his tongue, the sound sharp enough to whip across the table, and when I look at him, I see it: his terrible temper unfurling. Because Maverick is out of cash. Maverick, who once pushed the blade of his knife through my best friend’s ribs, is near spitting with anger at being made to look like a fool in front of the eight other people at this table.
For thieves like him, money is king. Money is everything , a direct reflection of status and power in the underworld he prowls in, and I know he would do anything to protect the image he’s worked so hard to build over his long devious years. For Ellis to invite him here and not tell him how much cash would be in play . . . A reckless, foolish mistake. I know Ellis was only seeking retribution for his little brother, but this was a mistake .
In a move so sudden it causes Wylie to scream from her seat, Maverick launches to his feet, flipping the table over toward Colt and me. I push Colt out of his chair and fall to the ground to avoid getting hit by the weight of it as cash and playing cards go flying around us. The table lands on my legs and a flash of pain flares in my left knee, but I’m able to kick it off me. When I look up again, Maverick is pointing a gun at Ellis, who shields Wylie behind him.
“I’m no fucking fool,” Maverick drawls.
“You sure?” Ellis smiles, a corrupt heat in his eyes.
“What the hell is going on?” one of the cowboys says, sitting up from the floor with a hand pressed against his forehead.
But Maverick ignores him. “You’re playing a few different games tonight, aren’t you, boy?”
Ellis simply shrugs.
The second cowboy jumps to his feet beside me, and I’m surprised to see him point a gun at Maverick. “Put the gun down!”
The first cowboy also rises, still clutching his palm against his head. I don’t see any blood coming out from beneath it, but I imagine the table must have hit him hard enough to knock him a little loose. He holds his free hand out, and beneath the bald light that hangs above us all, a golden badge shines.
“Oh fuck,” Colt mutters on my other side. “Cops.”
Faster than lightning, Maverick turns his attention to the men from Cheyenne and fires his pistol. The cop holding the gun drops to the ground, clutching the side of his neck. Wylie screams again.
The sounds must alert others who wait outside, because the shadows of two more men come creeping into the barn with guns drawn, and I know in my heart this is all over. Those of us who sat at the table tonight will either die in this barn or walk out of it in handcuffs. For a heartbeat, Olivia’s face flashes in my mind. I’m not going to make it to her tonight like I promised.
It’s a sickening feeling, one that almost has me puking right here where I’m crouched—not because I’m going to be arrested or that I’m disappointing my family in one of the worst possible ways when they need me most, but because I’m not going to make it home to her .
I look up to watch the inevitable, taking in the new men coming in, no doubt more cops—but my heart lurches when I see their faces.
Another gunshot slices through the air and I startle, turning to find the downed cop has raised an arm to take a shot at Maverick. He misses, hitting one of his cronies instead. The man drops like a bag of feed and doesn’t move.
Maverick hollers out a loud curse before firing again, hitting the cop on the floor with another shot before aiming for the other one who still stands.
“Put the gun down!” the cop tries to yell, eyes wide with fear in the face of the barrel Maverick points at him. His own gun, I realize, is still holstered at his hip.
Maverick doesn’t so much as flinch before he shoots him. And before the man is even done falling, Maverick turns to point the gun back at Ellis. “Was all this worth it?” he asks in a quiet, menacing tone. “Dead cops and all this money gone when I walk out of here with it—was it worth it, Ellis Rustler?”
Ellis seethes, opening his mouth to say something. But then a loud boom rattles through the barn, heavier than any of the shots fired so far, and Maverick is hurled backward. His back slams into the ground with a thud.
I turn to look at the two men who just joined us in the barn, at the one who holds a smoking shotgun pointed where Maverick had just been standing. His hands are shaking with the force of what he’s just done.
Kasey.
And beside him, stands Wells.
They came for me.
Ellis turns to look at his sister with a panicked look. “Run!” he shouts at her before turning to his own brother. “Get out of here!”
Colt turns to look at me, and I nod. He rockets to his feet, turning to grab his sister by the hand before pulling her through the barn’s open doorway and out into the night.
Kasey cocks his head toward Ellis. “You motherfucker,” he smolders, taking a step toward him, his gun now pointed at the ground between them. “You reckless, dumbass fucking cowboy.”
Ellis throws his hands up. “It wasn’t supposed to go like this, Kasey.”
“Of course it wasn’t!” Kasey roars. “It’s never supposed to end like this, is it? But you’re too fucking stupid to see all the ways it can. Those are fucking cops on the ground! ”
Ellis trembles, his shoulders bunched in fear. And I can’t blame him—I’ve never seen Kasey like this. Even with all the shit I’ve put him through over the years, he’s never looked as scared or angry as he is right now.
“Kasey,” Wells says low beside him. And I can’t comprehend how it’s possible, how my brothers knew I’d need them tonight, how they’d known where to find me.
A shuffle sounds from the ground where the other side of the table had been, and we all realize at once that Maverick’s second man, who’d seemingly been pretending to be down amidst all the chaos, is very much not . He shoots to his feet with a low grunt and races out of the barn.
Kasey glares at Ellis. “This is on you , you hear me?”
Ellis nods. “I’ll take the fall if it comes to it. For Colt and Wylie. For Rhett. I’ll do it.”
Kasey stares at him for a long moment before lowering his gun to his side and turning to me. “Get in the fucking truck.”
Without another word, he turns and walks out of the barn. My gaze shifts to Wells, to his wide eyes and tight jaw, and realize he’s also holding a gun. My baby brother, with a gun in his hand. Rising to my feet, shame curls tight against me as I look at him. “I’m sorry, Wells.”
But Wells just shakes his head and gives me his back, following Kasey out into the dark night.
I rise to my feet and throw Ellis a hard glare.
“This wasn’t supposed to happen,” he says again, voice trembling.
And the weight of all that’s happened presses down around us. Ellis might have taken too many risks tonight, but he’s not the only one at fault. I should have never been here. I should have never thought this would be the way out.
Still—I look at all the money on the ground.
“I expect sixty percent of this cash to be in my hands within three days.”
Ellis frowns. “Sixty?”
I nod. “Twenty for me, twenty for Kasey, and twenty for Wells. Isn’t that how this works? We protect each other and split the profits?” He’d be an idiot if he didn’t think I’d expect shares for my brothers.
“Fine,” he says. “Three days.”
“And the rest of it goes to Colt and Wylie. Twenty each, Ellis.” I lean down close to his face. “ None of this goes to you. Nothing but the blame, should it come to that. Got it?”
Anger sparks in his eyes, but he nods.
“Don’t fuck with me, Ellis. I’ll make sure Colt knows. I don’t care if you told them what was happening here tonight—I know you didn’t give them a choice. You played with fucking fire and now it’s time to feel it burn. If Colt and Wylie don’t get their cuts, I’m coming for you.”
And then I turn and walk out of the barn.
Kasey’s truck sits next to where my bike is parked, and I watch my brothers work together to lift it into the bed.
“I can ride home,” I say, looking at Kasey.
But he just shakes his head and looks back at me. “You owe her,” he says.
Owe her?
And then the passenger door of the truck is swinging open and Olivia is jumping out. My heart stutters and then stops altogether as she faces me, her eyes so full of emotion that I can hardly breathe. The relief on her face is palpable, and in the light of the moon, I notice the tears that spill off her chin. “Rhett?” she says.
It was her . She tipped off my brothers. “Olivia,” I say on a rough exhale.
She rushes forward, and I open my arms to catch her body against mine. But when she reaches me, she stops. I watch in fascination as her relief turns into a scowl, her sad eyes narrowing in anger.
And she punches me right in the jaw.