CHAPTER EIGHT
“GIRL TROUBLE?”
The question is asked by me and addressed to the youngest Grayson brother, Axton.
Or Ax, as everyone calls him. Apparently, they really like their nicknames at Rawhide: Mars, Arsen, Ax.
Anyway, it’s day two of my captivity, and we’re gathered at the little eating nook in the kitchen because it’s lunchtime.
By we, I mean me, Reverie, Haven, and Axton.
Ax is sitting opposite me and he’s yet to touch his tuna salad sandwich because he’s focused on his phone.
And with the way his fingers are flying on the keypad and the frown he’s sporting, he’s having a deep discussion with someone.
At my question, though, he looks up, his fingers coming to a halt as he stares at me with those dark eyes of his.
All Grayson brothers look more or less the same.
Dark thick hair with piercing dark eyes; Mars also sports a mustache that looks really sexy on him, I’m not going to lie.
The Grayson brothers also have sharp and handsome features that I’m sure every woman in the vicinity swoons over.
They’re all built the same too: broad shoulders, towering height, a body sculpted from hard labor.
With Arsen being the tallest and Marsden being the broadest. Axton falls somewhere in the middle but by no means is he any less impressive than his older brothers.
In fact, I think he probably gets the most attention.
On top of being a filthy rich cowboy, he’s also a senior in high school and the quarterback of his football team.
Even though I only met him yesterday—was forced to meet him—I already know Axton Grayson is the most popular guy in town.
The girls at the bonfire certainly flocked to him like their lives depended on the attention he gave them.
This also means I know he doesn’t have girl troubles.
I’m just fucking with him because why the fuck not?
His family has taken me captive; it’s the least I can do.
If I rile them up enough, maybe they’ll slip and reveal something I can use to my advantage.
So I throw him a sweet smile and his eyes narrow.
Pointing to the phone still in his hands, I ask, “Anything I can do to help?”
He lowers the device and cocks his head to the side. “You’re awfully generous.”
I raise my eyebrows. “You mean for someone who just got kidnapped?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, if you’re waiting for me to flinch and cower at your presence, then you’re going to have to wait a really long time.”
He studies me for a few moments. “Not sure what you’re tryna do, but if you’re lookin’ to buy favors around here, you’re barkin’ up the wrong tree.”
I shake my head, smirking. “I’m not a dog, Ax. I don’t bark. I purr.”
He smirks back. “You mean, like a pussy?”
“Axton Jonah Grayson,” Haven snaps, smacking him on the back of his head. “Watch your mouth.”
Frowning, he rubs the spot. “What, she started it.”
“And you don’t need to finish it,” she states.
“You know, Mars ain’t around right now,” Axton grumbles. “You don’t need to act like a lady or whatever.”
Another swat. “Again, watch your mouth. I am a fucking lady.”
I chuckle, shaking my head, and Ax snaps his eyes over to me. But before I can taunt him some more, I feel a pinch at my side. My best friend is giving me a look. I rub the spot at my waist. “What?”
She shakes her head. “Don’t.”
I roll my eyes at her. Apparently, she’s a little spooked right now.
Because this morning, I took her snooping.
We’re both in enemy territory. They’re keeping us here against our will.
Yes, they say they’ll let us go if we cooperate, but I’d be a fool to trust them.
I’d be a fool to not be prepared in case they decide to go back on their promise.
And yes, I think something is brewing between my best friend and the man who brought her here in the first place.
But again, I’d be foolish to trust him to abandon his revenge plans, something he’s been harboring for years, for whatever is happening between them.
I’m brought back to the moment when Haven declares, “I have to go deliver lunches to some ranch hands by the south stream. They can’t make it back to the bunkhouse, and they need to eat.” She turns to me. “You’re coming with me to help.” Then, speaking to Reverie, “And you’re staying here with Ax.”
“Can’t I just stay here with Axton instead?” I blurt out before I can stop myself.
“No.”
“Fuck no.”
The first no came from Haven, and the second, more emphatic one, was from Ax, and they both said it at the same time.
I have no particular interest in staying with the youngest Grayson—in fact, if I were to choose, I’d pick Haven any day of the week—but in this case, I wish I could stay with Ax.
Because I don’t want to face the men. I don’t know what men she’s talking about, but I already know I don’t want to be around them in case one of them is… you-know-who.
“We’re late,” Haven announces, standing up from her seat.
I can do this, I tell myself. I have to anyway. It’s not like I have a choice, and I’ve faced worse things.
You’re such a liar, Peyton. You know you haven’t faced anything worse than him. The beautiful cowboy with a wicked scar and green eyes whose life your father destroyed.
Getting up from my seat, too, I help Haven with all the stuff she needs to gather before we head out.
Since we’re going to the south stream, wherever the heck it is, we need a mode of transportation.
In this case, a side-by-side ATV. I lived on a ranch until I was eleven so I’ve been in an ATV, but I absolutely hate riding in them.
My stomach churns as Haven starts it up and pulls out of the driveway.
Every bump, every jostle, every freaking turn we take, I taste bile in my mouth and my limbs feel hot and heavy.
Just as I think I’m not going to make it and I’m about to throw up all over Haven’s and my own cowboy boots, she stops.
I stumble out of the vehicle and stand, leaning against it for a few seconds to get my bearings. I seriously hate living on a ranch.
Good thing it wasn’t a horse, or I would’ve died on the ride over.
But then all the commotion around me penetrates and I straighten up.
We’re indeed by the stream like Haven had mentioned.
It’s fast-moving and is flanked by high ground on both sides.
Immediately, I know why the men can’t make it to lunch this afternoon; they’re trying to retrieve a calf from down there.
Not only a calf, though, but a stuck one.
As in, one of its legs seems to have gotten wedged under a fallen tree trunk, and the ranch hands are gathered around, shouting out commands and instructions, trying to get a handle on the situation.
My own stupid fear and discomfort vanish as I hear a bellow.
I rush to the edge of the stream and notice trembles running through the calf’s white, skinny body.
It’s trying to free the leg on its own but to no avail, and that’s only making it bellow harder.
Not to mention, I don’t think it likes so many people around.
Every time a ranch hand tries to get close, it becomes more terrified and struggles harder.
It’s a vicious cycle, and I have absolutely no idea how they’re going to save the poor animal.
But then I hear hooves. The distinct sound of a horse galloping on the ground, approaching fast.
I snap my eyes up and see a flash of white streaking through the woods on the other side of the stream.
A dark figure sits atop a white horse, wearing a black Stetson and a bandanna over his face like a mask.
And despite knowing better, my breaths start to come easy.
I know he’s going to save the calf. There’s not a single doubt in my mind about that.
You’re such an idiot, Peyton.
As usual, his shirt is bursting at the seams, trying to contain his wide chest, and his washed-out jeans seem to be painted on his bulging tree-trunk thighs.
His sleeves are folded up to his elbows, and even though I’m far away from him, I can still see the bulge of his bronzed forearms as he holds the reins in his powerful hands.
When he jerks his horse to a stop and jumps down with an ease that only comes from years and years of practice, I squeeze my thighs.
Still masked, he strides over to one of the ranch hands and a hush falls over the group.
A certain calm. They all stand taller and lose the tense lines of their bodies as they speak to him.
As if they know, just like me, he’s going to take care of it.
As though to prove my thoughts correct, I feel Haven coming to stand by my side. I glance over to see her watching him and the others as she says, “It’s going to be okay. Rad’ll take care of it.”
Rad.
I know that’s what they call him, but I don’t think it’s appropriate for him at all.
He’s a king, in both his name and his aura.
He deserves to be called by his full, kingly name: Radisson.
I’m not proud of it, and I will take this secret to my grave, but I love his name.
The moment I heard it from Haven, I knew it was perfect for him.
Perfect for the only man at Rawhide bigger and broader than all the Grayson brothers combined.