Chapter 17
CAILTIN
T hree days after the poisoning, Starlight was back on her feet.
She was still weak—moving slowly, eating carefully, not quite herself—but she was alive. Every time I checked on her, she'd nicker softly and nudge my pocket, looking for treats. The first time she did it, I cried.
Sunrise had barely left her mother's side. The filly seemed to understand something had happened, something bad, and she'd appointed herself Starlight's personal guardian. It was the sweetest thing I'd ever seen.
"She's going to be okay," I told Blaine, finding him at the paddock fence where he spent most of his free time now. "Full recovery. Maybe a few weeks before she's back to normal, but no lasting damage."
He let out a breath I suspected he'd been holding for days. "Thank God."
"Thank modern veterinary medicine." I leaned against the fence beside him. "And activated charcoal. And the fact that horses are ridiculously resilient."
"And you." He pulled me close. "Mostly you."
"I'll accept partial credit."
We watched Starlight and Sunrise together—the mare grazing slowly, the foal bouncing around her in circles, full of energy her mother didn't have yet.
"Mike's coming up this weekend," Blaine said. "With the files."
"The files?"
"Everything the PI's gathered. Financial records, property transactions, witness statements. Mike's been organizing it into a case file." He paused. "We're meeting with Sheriff Martinez on Monday."
I squeezed his hand. "That's good. That's progress."
"It doesn't feel like progress. It feels like paperwork while Cole walks free."
"Paperwork is how you take down men like Cole. Not fists. Not threats. Evidence." I turned to face him. "You're doing this right, Blaine. The hard way. The way that actually works."
"You sound very sure."
"I am sure." I kissed him softly. "Now come inside. You've been out here for hours and you need to eat something."
"Yes ma'am."
Mike arrived Friday evening with Amanda, a rolling suitcase, and three banker's boxes full of documents.
"There she is!" Amanda dropped her bag and pulled me into a hug. "I've heard so much about you. Mike won't shut up about how Blaine finally found someone who can keep up with him."
"That's a generous interpretation," I laughed, hugging her back. "It's so good to finally meet you."
"Same. And this place—" She gestured at the ranch around us. "It's incredible. Pictures don't do it justice."
Mike set down the boxes and gave me a quick hug. "Good to see you again, Caitlin. How's our patient?"
"Starlight's improving every day. She's a fighter."
"Like someone else I know." He winked at Blaine, then gestured at the boxes. "Light reading. For your weekend enjoyment."
"Jesus." Jake picked up one of the folders, flipping through it. "How much is here?"
"Enough to make Vernon Cole very uncomfortable.
" Mike grinned—the sharp, satisfied grin of a lawyer who smelled blood.
"The PI is worth every penny. She found financial records Cole thought were buried.
Shell companies, suspicious transfers, loans from sources that don't exactly advertise in the Yellow Pages. "
"Illegal loans?" Blaine asked.
"Let's say 'ethically questionable.'" Mike pulled out a chair and sat down. "Here's the picture: Cole's been overextended for years. He keeps buying land, leveraging each purchase to finance the next one. It works as long as property values keep rising and deals keep closing."
"But his last two deals fell through," Jake said.
"Exactly. The Henderson property went to a conservation trust. The Morrison family got cold feet.
Suddenly Cole's sitting on a mountain of debt with no way to pay it off.
" Mike tapped one of the folders. "Enter Sierra Sol.
Prime real estate. Valuable breeding stock.
If Cole can acquire it—preferably at a distressed price—he can use it as collateral to refinance his other debts. "
"So he's not just greedy," I said. "He's desperate."
"Desperate and dangerous." Mike's expression sobered. "The harassment campaign makes sense now. He's not trying to buy the ranch—he's trying to break it. Drive down the value, scare off the owners, swoop in when everything falls apart."
"Except we're not falling apart," Blaine said.
"No, you're not. Which is why he's escalating.
" Mike pulled out another folder. "Tyler Vance.
Former military, dishonorable discharge.
Worked private security for some very shady people before landing with Cole.
He's not just a ranch hand—he's a fixer.
The kind of guy you hire when you need problems to go away. "
"And Cole's been paying him under the table," Jake added. "Separate from his regular payroll. Cash withdrawals that correspond with each incident at Sierra Sol."
"Can we prove the connection?" Blaine asked.
"We're getting there. The PI's working on phone records, trying to establish direct communication between Cole and Vance around the time of each attack." Mike leaned back. "It's not a slam dunk yet, but it's close. Another week or two, and we'll have enough to make Cole's life very difficult."
"A week or two." Blaine's jaw tightened. "A lot can happen in a week or two."
"Which is why we're going to the sheriff on Monday. Even without a perfect case, we have enough to open an investigation. Get Cole on the defensive. Make him think twice before his next move."
Amanda, who'd been quietly listening, spoke up. "What about protective orders? Restraining orders? Something to keep Vance away from the property?"
"Already drafted." Mike smiled at his fiancée. "We file Monday morning, right before the sheriff meeting."
"You've been busy," I said.
"I've been motivated." He looked at Blaine. "You're family. And nobody messes with family."
The room went quiet for a moment. Then Tre—who'd been uncharacteristically silent—raised his glass.
"To family," he said. "The kind you're born with and the kind you choose."
We all drank to that.
Later that night, after everyone had dispersed to their cottages, I found Blaine in the office, staring at the banker's boxes like they held the secrets of the universe.
"You should be sleeping," I said from the doorway.
"Can't." He didn't look up. "Too much in my head."
I crossed the room and perched on the edge of the desk. "Want to talk about it?"
"I keep thinking about my grandfather." He finally met my eyes. "What he'd say if he could see all this. The security team. The lawyers. The PI. All this money and manpower just to hold onto what he built."
"He'd say you're doing what needs to be done."
"Would he?" Blaine shook his head. "Grandpa Earl was old school. He solved his own problems. Didn't rely on outside help."
"Times were different. Threats were different." I reached out, ran my fingers through his hair. "Your grandfather built this place. You're protecting it. That's not weakness—that's evolution."
"Hector said something similar."
"Hector's a smart man." I tilted his chin up to look at me. "So are you. Even if you don't feel like it right now."
"I feel like I'm playing defense. Reacting instead of acting. Cole makes a move, we respond. He makes another move, we respond again." His frustration was palpable. "When do we get to make a move?"
"Monday. When you walk into the sheriff's office with three boxes of evidence and a team of people who believe in you." I leaned down and kissed him. "That's your move. That's when you stop playing defense and start playing offense."
"You make it sound simple."
"It's not simple. But it is straightforward." I stood, tugging his hand. "Now come to bed. You're going to need your strength."
"For the sheriff meeting?"
"For that too." I smiled over my shoulder. "But I had something else in mind first."
He was out of the chair before I finished the sentence.
Saturday was almost normal.
Mike and Amanda toured the ranch—properly this time, not just a quick walk-through. Jake showed them the breeding facilities while I walked with Amanda, pointing out the highlights.
"So how are you really doing?" Amanda asked as we watched Mike attempt to make friends with Cisco. "This whole situation sounds terrifying."
"It has its moments." I watched Cisco investigate Mike's pockets. "But Blaine's handling it. We all are."
"Mike's been working around the clock on this case. I've never seen him so invested in something that isn't billable hours." She smiled. "He really loves Blaine. They all do—Jake, Tre. It's sweet, watching them together."
"They're good men. All of them."
"And Blaine's a good man who found a good woman." She nudged my shoulder. "Mike says he's never seen Blaine like this. Happy. Grounded. He thinks you're the reason."
I felt my cheeks warm. "I think the ranch deserves some credit too."
"Maybe. But ranches don't look at people the way he looks at you." She laughed at my expression. "Oh, you've got it bad too. Look at you blushing."
"I'm not blushing."
"You're absolutely blushing. It's adorable." She linked her arm through mine. "I'm glad he found you, Caitlin. He deserves someone real. Someone who sees him, not just his success."
"He makes it easy." I watched Blaine across the paddock, laughing at something Tre said. "He's not what I expected."
"What did you expect?"
"I don't know. Arrogant? Entitled? He's a very successful businessman. I figured he'd be all sharp edges and ego."
"And instead?"
"Instead he's... kind. Patient. He holds baby carrots in his pocket for a horse that isn't even valuable, just because it makes the horse happy." I shook my head. "Who does that?"
"A man worth keeping." Amanda squeezed my arm. "Don't let him go."
"I don't plan to."
We walked in comfortable silence for a while, watching the guys interact with the horses, the sun warm on our faces.
"You know," Amanda said eventually, "Mike and I have been together for four years. And I still remember the exact moment I knew he was the one."
"When was that?"
"We were at a restaurant, fancy place, and the waiter spilled an entire glass of red wine on my dress.
I was mortified. And Mike—without missing a beat—knocked over his own water glass and said, 'Look at us, we're a matched set.
'" She smiled at the memory. "It wasn't about the gesture.
It was about making me feel less alone in an embarrassing moment. That's when I knew."
"That's sweet."
"What about you? When did you know with Blaine?"
I thought about it. The emergency foaling. The awkward dinners. The way he'd looked at me that first night, covered in blood and exhaustion, like I was something miraculous.
"The generator," I said finally.
"The generator?"
"Cole's people destroyed the backup generator.
Starlight almost died because of it. And Blaine—he didn't yell, didn't rage, didn't make it about himself.
He just looked at me and asked what he could do to help.
" I shook my head. "His ranch was under attack, his horse was in danger, and his first instinct was to ask how he could help me do my job. "
"That's a good man."
"That's my man." The words came out before I could stop them. I felt my cheeks flush again. "God, that sounds possessive."
"It sounds right." Amanda grinned. "Embrace it."
That evening, we had dinner together—all of us crowded around the big kitchen table, passing dishes, talking over each other, laughing at Tre's terrible jokes. It felt like family. It felt like home.
After, when the dishes were done and the wine was finished, Blaine and I sat on the porch swing, watching the stars emerge one by one.
"Good day?" he asked, his arm around my shoulders.
"Good day." I nestled closer. "Amanda's great. I can see why Mike fell for her."
"She said the same about you."
"She did?"
"She cornered me in the barn and told me if I ever hurt you, she'd make Mike sue me into oblivion." He laughed at my expression. "She was kidding. Mostly."
"I like her."
"She likes you too." He pressed a kiss to my temple. "Everyone likes you. Hector practically smiled at you this morning. That's basically a marriage proposal in Hector-speak."
"Now you're exaggerating."
"Only slightly."
We sat in comfortable silence, the porch swing creaking softly, the sounds of the ranch settling around us.
"Tomorrow's going to be interesting," Blaine said eventually.
"How so?"
"Just a feeling." He pulled me closer. "But whatever happens, I'm glad you're here."
"There's nowhere else I'd rather be."
He kissed me then—slow and sweet, tasting like wine and contentment.
And for one perfect evening, I let myself believe that everything was going to be okay.