Chapter 1
CHAPTER ONE
KASEY
My heart pounds so violently I feel like I can’t breathe.
Before I have a chance to register what it means, my feet are already moving, aiming for the burst of light spilling out of the open barn door.
I’m only vaguely aware of Wells shadowing behind me, his booted steps just as quiet and careful as mine as we pick up speed.
Maybe if I had a little more reason, I’d tell my youngest brother to stay back, to wait in the truck where it’s safe.
I’d try to keep him away from what I know in my gut is going to be something bad.
But my attention’s focused on that gap in the ramshackle building’s dilapidated sliding doors, on another brother I know is inside and in danger.
The sound of a loud crash reverberates through the air, and I whisper out a sharp “Fuck” before hurling myself faster for the barn. I hear a woman scream.
“What do we do?” Wells asks at my heels.
I don’t know how to respond because I don’t know what the fuck to do, so I just keep moving.
The Rustler family has always been reckless—even more than ours—but their illegal card games don’t typically include screaming, which means whatever’s going on in there is much worse than I thought.
Reaching the open doorway, I pause for two full breaths to steel myself before twisting around the outer edge of the doorframe, scanning the god-awful scene inside.
Rhett’s sprawled out beside an overturned table, Colt Rustler only feet away in a similar position.
Both of them are gaping up at a man looming over them on the other side of the table, brandishing a pistol that glints beneath the bald light above.
A gunshot slices through the night, and a man I don’t recognize falls to the ground, clutching his neck.
There’s another scream—Wylie, hiding behind Ellis, is covering her mouth with her hands.
My gaze drops again to Rhett, finding him wild-eyed with fear.
Playing cards are scattered all around the floor.
Another shot cracks, and the man next to Maverick drops.
Maverick shouts, aiming his pistol to shoot the other man again.
This time the shot’s fatal, and the man goes still.
Maverick turns his focus to a second man I don’t recognize and shoots him without thought.
Then he turns to Ellis. “Was all this worth it?” he asks, voice low and deadly.
“Dead cops and all this money gone when I walk out of here with it—was it worth it, Ellis Rustler?”
Holy shit. Dead cops? This is bad bad.
I know in an instant Maverick won’t let anyone out of here alive, not after we’ve all witnessed him kill two officers. There’s enough of us to stop him, but that gun in his hand will no doubt keep firing, and I’m not about to let it anywhere near my fucking brothers.
My mind goes utterly black as I squeeze the shotgun’s trigger.
The deafening boom nearly knocks me sideways, my eyes closing shut on instinct.
I open them to find Maverick’s hateful, cold glare changing, growing fearful as a spot of blood swells across the front of his shirt, painting his chest a shade of red so dark it almost looks black.
But Maverick’s grip on his gun only tightens. The hole torn through his chest is somehow not enough to deter him, and the fear in those strange dark eyes dissipates as his mouth curls into a dangerous grin. “You really thought you could stop me?” he asks, voice dripping with venom.
“Rhett, run!” I shout.
But Rhett doesn’t have a chance. Maverick aims his gun right at him, and before another sound can leave my throat, he’s pulling the trigger.
Another loud crack whips through the air, and Rhett is pushed backward from the force of the shot hitting him in the shoulder.
Maverick pulls the trigger again and a second shot hits Rhett in the stomach.
Terror floods through my body as I watch my brother, one of the best friends I’ve ever had, slump forward. His gaze moves to where I stand as Wells screams behind me.
“I’m sorry,” Rhett says, blood spilling from his mouth. It runs down his neck. Stains the collar of his shirt dark crimson.
“NO!” I yell with everything I have.
My eyes fly open to a white ceiling, darkened by the night.
Cold sweat beads along my brow as I gasp for air, my heart slamming against my ribs inside a too-tight chest. Turning to my side, I curl into a ball and heave for a solid breath, but I can’t for the life of me catch one.
There’s a part of my mind still separate from the panic that knows this will eventually pass, just like it does every morning.
But it’s not enough to ease the bone-deep fear that rockets through me that my brother might actually be dead on the ground of some dirty fucking barn.
I’m home, I tell myself. I’m home in my bed. I’m not there. Rhett’s not there.
It’s been almost three weeks since Wells and I pulled Rhett out of that terrible situation.
Three weeks since I took someone’s life.
Mean-Eyed Maverick is not exactly the kind of man the world’s gonna miss, but it gnaws at me that he’s just .
. . gone. That his existence was snuffed out of this world because of me.
I don’t regret pulling that trigger—not when I saw the rage in his eyes and knew what he would do to Rhett and the others if given the chance.
Still, the anxiety compounds every day as I wait for law enforcement to break down my door and drag me away in handcuffs.
Ellis promised to take the heat should it come to that, but Ellis has been a fucking piss-poor friend for years, far more interested in all the ways he can make a buck than he is in loyalty or human decency.
I’d be glad to never see that sad-sack of shit ever again.
Maybe this stupid relationship between the Bennetts and the Rustlers can finally die—my brothers have been sucked into their bullshit far too many times.
I hope like hell what happened in that barn was enough to scare Rhett straight.
He may have thought he had good reasons to put himself in danger like that, but at the end of the day this ranch and our name isn’t worth his life.
The possibility of losing everything our family has worked so hard for over generations cuts deep, I get it.
I’m going to fight like hell to make sure Uncle Huck has a hard time taking it all from us.
But if we fail, if we lose this place, I know we’ll be okay.
If we were to lose Rhett . . .
This family has suffered enough.
It takes several long minutes, but the panic from my nightmare eventually begins to recede.
I suck down a deep breath through my nose, filling my lungs with air, and hold it for as long as I can before pushing it out through my mouth.
Looking toward the digital clock on my nightstand, the dim red numbers tell me it’s a few minutes past three in the morning.
I still have an hour before the alarm goes off, but I don’t think I’ll be going back to sleep anytime soon.
I look back up at the ceiling, rubbing the sleep away from my eyes, and wonder if Brooks is awake in his cabin too.
If he’s found any semblance of peace lying in his bed alone.
I think of Rhett and Wells and the girls they have in their lives—are they happy?
Are they sleeping with the warmth of their partners wrapped around them?
Or are they awake too, contemplating every ounce of shit this family has been served in our lifetime.
The grass over Melody’s grave hasn’t even had a chance to sprout again, and already we have more problems to navigate.
When is it enough? When will this family have the opportunity to live an easier life?
Isn’t that the whole purpose of what we do—to disentangle ourselves from the world outside of these grounds?
Huck is supposed to be one of us. He’s a damn Bennett . . . He’s supposed to understand the sanctity and beauty of our work; he grew up here, just like we did. But all he seems to care about is what this ranch can do for his wallet, not for his soul.
I groan, sitting up in bed and throwing the covers away. Stepping into my slippers at the foot of the bed, I head for the bathroom and splash a few handfuls of cold water on my face as the weight of the world settles over my shoulders.
This is all on me, I know it is. My dad sure as hell doesn’t have the capacity to fight any legal battles with his brother, and Brooks is already going through so much.
He just lost his wife, for fuck’s sake. That Huck would even think to take advantage of that loss for his own sleazy benefit is disgusting.
Leaning on the edge of the bathroom sink, I look at myself in the mirror.
I have to figure something out. I have to find a loophole in the inheritance terms, a way to keep Huck out from what we all know damn well doesn’t belong to him.
Maybe someone in town knows a good lawyer and would be willing to help us . . .
I heard somebody’s in need of a wife?
I squeeze my eyes shut as another wave of anxiety builds. The memory of Ava Jones walking through the doors of Wild Coyote plays on a near constant loop during my waking hours, the sound of her cool and confident voice as she narrowed those sapphire eyes on me.
Turning out of the bathroom, I head down the hall toward the front door, pushing it open so I can get some fresh air.
The sky is a blanket of stars twinkling down over the ranch, the moon only a sliver above the distant tree line.
Even in the dark I can see an incoming burst of clouds.
The humidity in the air is thick, but cool enough that goosebumps swell across my shoulders and chest. I don’t mind it one bit, the way it reminds me that I’m of this planet too.
I sit down on the top step of the porch, eyes trailing the worn path below that leads to the main house and other cabins, listening to the song of crickets who have long since awoken.
Soon the sun will peek out from over the eastern horizon, and the horses will whinny from their stalls.
My brothers will wake if they’re not already up, probably brew some strong coffee and pull on their boots for the work ahead.
And we’ll spend the day doing what we love: cowboying.
Caring for these horses, ensuring they have the opportunity to find good homes with good people.
We’ll ride the ones who don’t want to be ridden and convince them that we’re trying to help, and we’ll do our best to keep this way of life alive because it’s important.
I lean forward, resting my elbows against my knees, and take it all in: our legacy. The purpose of our family name. Breathing in lungfuls of fresh air so crisp it feels like it’s right off the Gulf, I find the courage to keep going.
And then I do.