6
I t’ll all be okay.
Bullshit. Nothing about this is okay.
Dakota’s forced words of bravado do nothing to instill confidence in me. No matter how much she wants to act like she has it handled, she doesn’t.
The only consolation I have right now is that she’s secure in the lodge, with me on guard.
An hour after the light in her room turns off, I stomp for the Bullshit Box, the place where I run all the ranch’s security operations. AKA another place for me and my brothers to bullshit.
I hate leaving Dakota alone, but I need a place to stew.
A place to dig.
When I get there, I head for my desk and take a seat. With my gaze on the computer monitor, I type Dakota McGraw into the search engine and scroll through the results.
Does the perfect cupcake exist? Yes, it does. And I found it at DC’s Milk Not Considered a Suspect
I rub a hand over my jaw. “Fuck.”
It’s good she’s back here. Resurrection will let her lie low. She can speak to the authorities and the insurance company over the phone. Because Dakota flying back to DC and being in the same state with the motherfucker who put hands on her is not happening.
If he comes after her, I have to be ready.
People go after the things they want. Especially when they’re out for vengeance. I’m not holding out hope that this guy miraculously fades into the ether.
To keep her safe, I have to keep her close.
Which means no surprises. Which means I plan.
Which means I need her entire story. If I know who he is, I can keep tabs on him. Because I already know I’m going to have my hands full keeping tabs on Dakota.
But she has to tell me in her own time. If the Marines have taught me anything, it’s that pushing never helps. It makes you clam up. It makes you run.
“You in here sulking?”
Ford steps through the door, followed by Charlie and Wyatt.
“No,” I lie, already wishing I can get back to my quiet evening of plotting someone else’s murder.
My twin smirks. “Liar.”
“Thought you could use this.” Wyatt sets a beer on the desk and heads to the dartboard.
“Thanks.” I switch over to the security monitors abruptly and scan the tense faces of my brothers. “What’s going on?”
Charlie drops into his chair, scraping a hand over his beard. He glances down at Keena, who’s curled up next to the space heater. “Rest of the dogs locked up?”
My skin prickles at the tone in his voice. “Yeah. Why?”
“Some maverick wolf’s tearing through the ranches,” Charlie says. “Marvin lost a couple of chickens late last night.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose and exhale. Fuck. Another goddamn problem. Last year, we had the Wolfingtons. Now we have to deal with actual fucking wolves. “Where? On the ranch?”
“Perimeter.” Ford hangs back against the wall, arms crossed. “Near the woods.”
“Set a trap,” I tell him. “Nothing lethal. We’re not killing wolves.”
This land belongs to them just as much as us. Our livestock, however, are off-limits.
“How was the rescue?” Ford asks, reaching into his desk drawer and opening a package of cinnamon hard candy. He’s been obsessed with them since the major leagues, trying to substitute them for tobacco.
“How do you think?” My words come out stony. “You saw her.”
Ford’s amber eyes flash. “Yeah. I did.”
A muscle jumps in Charlie’s jaw. “Take her to Stede?”
I flatten my lips, scanning the room. All of my brothers wear the same look of reckless fury crawling beneath my skin. “Earlier tonight.”
One of the hardest fucking things I’ve ever had to do. Stede kept it together, but I saw it all over his face. The devastation of a man who wasn’t able to protect the one he loved.
Ford rolls the candy around in his mouth, then says, “So, she’s gonna heal, find a job, and have a baby. Is that what this is?”
I have the sudden urge to drink the beer all in one sitting. “Yeah,” I grunt. “Rebuild.”
Wyatt whistles. “That’s a lot.”
“She’s got it.” I open the beer and take a sip. “She’s strong.”
“You know who the guy is?” Wyatt asks, flinging a dart blindly at the dartboard.
I sigh, already seeing an ambulance ride in my future. “If I did, you think I’d be sitting here?”
“No. I don’t,” Charlie says.
I don’t miss the harsh darkening of his face. The uneasy glances exchanged with Wyatt and Ford. Anger and adrenaline have each of my brothers in their hold. They want to find this guy just as bad as I do.
I stand and cross the floor to snatch the dart away from my younger brother before he injures himself or someone else.
“Why’s she here, Davis?” Charlie asks.
I sit back in my chair, already tired of the conversation. But I owe my brothers clarity about what’s going on. What happens at the ranch affects everyone.
“She thinks her ex will come after her.”
“Fuck,” Wyatt mutters, rubbing the back of his neck.
A muscle jerks in Charlie’s jaw. “Will he?” His blue eyes fall to the security cameras and the screen with his cabin, where Ruby sweeps snow from the front porch.
I harden my jaw. Guilt slices deep. “Trouble won’t land here, Charlie.”
Ruby was hurt because of my fucking mistake, and I spent the entirety of last fall installing new security measures.
I vet each staff member until I know their name and face in my sleep.
You are beyond on camera. We monitor every inch of the ranch, except for the tree line and forest. Still, if Dakota’s ex plans to come after her, it’s dangerous having her on the ranch and Charlie knows it.
I look him in the eye. “And if it does, I’ll handle it.”
“You’ve handled enough,” he gruffs.
Ford’s expression holds none of its typical laid-back attitude. He looks pissy even for him. “So, the plan is she stays at the ranch?”
I nod. “She stays twenty-four seven until she’s safe.”
A shit-eating grin curls on Wyatt’s face. “And what exactly does that mean?”
I scowl. The last thing I need is Wyatt reminding me Dakota and I are going to be in very close confines for the next however many months.
“You focus on the ranch,” I bark. Of all my brothers, I’m the hardest on Wyatt.
He and I have always butted heads over rules and discipline.
If he only knew it’s because I’ve been losing sleep over the kid ever since he climbed on the back of a horse.
My little brother has at least six I-should-have-died-but-didn’t stories.
“We open in four fuckin’ months and if I’m remembering correctly, you still have a horse to break.”
Wyatt rolls his eyes. “Bossy bastard.”
“Well, you got us,” Charlie says, shoving up to stand. “We’ll help. Whatever you need.”
With a knot in my throat, I give Charlie a nod of thanks. I don’t tell my brothers enough what they mean to me. They’re the ones who’d roll up to my house with an empty trunk and a roll of duct tape, no questions asked.
Without another word, my brothers exit the Bullshit Box. Glad to be rid of them, I go back to my computer. After a glance at the lodge on the security cameras, I pull up Dakota’s Instagram page.
She would snap my neck with a rolling pin if she knew I was poking into her business. But she’s going to have to deal with it.
Find this guy.
It’s the singular war cry in my mind.
As I click through the bright, glossy images of Dakota’s life, I pick apart the kernels of information I’ve been doled out over the years by Stede and Fallon, and even Dakota herself before she broke contact. She traveled the world. Earned accolades. Started her own business.
Her photos show all that and more.
Culinary school graduation. Food festivals. Recipes. Behind the scenes posts of her bakery.
There are no tags. No mention of a man.
Is it you, fucker? My gaze narrows on a man standing watch over Dakota as she holds a tray of cookies. The ball of rage in my chest doubles in size.
She may be smiling in her most recent Instagram pictures, but if I look closely, I can see it. While brilliant and blazing, her smile doesn’t reach her eyes.
Fear. It’s the only word to describe it.
It tracks. Two years ago, is when we lost contact. She pulled away because of her ex.
Now that I have more answers than questions, I can breathe a bit easier. There’s enough of the story to at least puzzle it out. I still don’t have his fucking name, but that can wait.
Once again, guilt tightens my chest. Guilt that I never followed up over her silence. Guilt that I didn’t know anything was wrong.
The only thing worse than knowing I pushed her away is that I pushed her into the arms of someone who hurt her.
“Fuck,” I blast.
Rolling out my neck, I scroll back to the past.
An image of Dakota at Lake Cascade with Fallon, me, and my brothers. A day that stands out in my mind as a top-tier memory.
With a wild whoop, she had jumped into the icy water, and like a fool, I followed her in.
The photo hits like a sucker punch.
She’s cheesing so hard her beautiful brown eyes looked closed. I can see her nipples through the thin fabric of the skimpy bikini she wears, her tight little ass breaking the surface of the lake.
And then there’s a memory that the photo doesn’t show.
Me dragging Dakota under the dock and peeling off those thin bikini bottoms. Slapping her tight little ass as she bounced on my cock and rubbed her tits in my face. All while our siblings splashed twenty feet away.
Koty.
My Dakota.
Mine.
Suddenly, it’s not just her memory I want, I want her . I crave her taste, crave her wild, black hair dragging down my stomach, her supple ass straddling my hips, delicate hands scraping over the muscle of my back.
Dangerous, torturous beauty.
Look, but don’t touch.
Duty, not desire.
A ragged groan rips from my chest. I’m hard as a rock, and I loathe it. Loathe what she does to me. Loathe the way I’m giving in, already reaching for the zipper of my jeans.
Helplessly, I grit my teeth.
Before I can stop myself, I’m standing over my desk with my cock out. Pleasure licks its way up my spine as I use my hand to get myself off like I’m a fucking teenager all over again. I stroke myself in a frenzy to get her out of my mind. My veins. My heart.
Wrong. So goddamn wrong.
“Fuck, fuck, Dakota,” I pant, hating myself, yet unable to stop the hard milking of my shaft.
She’s still in my bloodstream. She’s never been gone. Not for a hot fucking second. Never.
Now I’m calling a code-red on my cock all because she’s living under my roof.
Goddamn, I don’t have a chance.
My body shakes, shudders. Then, with one final violent wrench of my cock, I erupt. My release covers the desktop as my roar tears through the air, while the security monitors blink red.
Panting, I sit back down and bow my head.
So much for fucking duty.