Chapter 52
CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO
HUNTER
As I approach Jett, an uneasy feeling creeps beneath my skin. The kind that never shows up without a reason.
He flicks the end of his cigarette into the dirt and grinds it out beneath the heel of his boot.
“What’s up?” I ask, stopping in front of him.
He tips his chin toward me. “We got Greeks tryin’ to play cowboy and have shoot ups on our land now.”
I drag a hand down my face and let out a slow breath. “Fuckin’ hell. I’m sorry, Jett.”
He’s driven an hour to tell me that, so I think it might be worse than he’s letting on.
He chuckles under his breath and shakes his head. “Nah. You’re all good. I was getting a bit bored anyway. None of us got hurt. But we gotta do something about this, Hunter. We can’t let them keep coming here and trying to pluck us off.”
My fingers scrape along my stubble as I think it through again. “Orders are to take out the ones that come. Hold them off until I get this shit with Ashley’s murder sorted.”
Jett nods once. “Yeah. That’s fine. But how many men they got?”
“Enzo is looking into it. He said they’re small fish. If it gets worse, tell me. We might be able to pull in some of the Vegas guys to help.”
The Volkov brothers run Vegas. Russian mafia. All of them are fucking terrifying men. Their leader, Mikhail, never shows his face. Always masked. Always hidden. Yet somehow nobody ever causes trouble in their territory.
That kind of reputation is earned in blood.
Jett scratches his jaw thoughtfully. “So, the Greeks are trying to take our ranch now? That’s their play? You said no to their deal, and now they think they can shoot their way in?” There’s disbelief in his voice, like even he can’t quite believe the balls on them.
“It seems that way,” I reply. “My guess is they’re in deep shit in LA.”
Jett shrugs. “Then maybe we need to start making new allies over there.”
I nod slowly. That’s already part of the plan. Find the people who hate them and see if we can work together. Or wait until Enzo sends the manpower, and I walk into LA myself and wipe every last one of them off the map.
Either option works for me.
I’ve got a plan.
Behind us, the arena erupts with cheers as another rider bursts from the chute. Music blares through the speakers while the announcer shouts over the crowd, the whole place vibrating with adrenaline.
Ace steps up beside me, rolling his shoulders as he watches the arena. “Couple rides before mine,” he mutters.
I nod absently, scanning the grounds. Then someone steps into my peripheral vision. A cowboy, and not one that I recognize. And he’s making a beeline right towards us with purpose.
The unease in my chest sharpens instantly.
Jett notices him too. “You lost, partner?” he calls casually.
The man stops a few feet away. Something about him feels wrong. My hand drifts slowly toward the gun tucked at the back of my waistband.
“Depends,” the stranger says.
Then his hand moves, and a shot cracks through the air.
Jett jerks violently beside me as the bullet hits him.
Everything slows. But my body moves before the sound even finishes echoing.
I slam into the shooter with enough force to drive him back into the metal fencing beside the arena gate.
The gun fires again as we collide, the bullet tearing harmlessly into the dirt.
My fist crashes into his jaw. Really fucking hard.
He tries to lift the gun again, but I grab his wrist and smash it against the rail until the weapon clatters to the ground.
“You stupid motherfucker,” I growl, gripping his collar and slamming him into the fence again.
Boots pound toward us as people start shouting. But the rodeo noise is loud enough that most of the crowd barely notices.
“Who sent you?” I hiss.
Blood runs down his chin as he grins at me. “You don’t get it,” he rasps.
My grip tightens in his jacket. “Then explain it.”
His gaze locks onto mine. “Accept the deal.”
The words land cold. Fuck him.
“Work with the Greeks,” he continues hoarsely, “and they’ll give you the people responsible for Ashley’s murder. That was the message I have to give you.”
My jaw tightens.
“Work with them, and you’ll get your freedom.”
Freedom. That’s what they think I want badly enough to betray my own people for.
My fist crashes into his face again, hard enough that his skull cracks against the metal rail. Behind me, Ace drops beside Jett, who is sitting in the dirt with one hand pressed to his side, blood seeping through his fingers.
But the stubborn bastard is awake. And furious.
“Son of a bitch winged me,” Jett growls.
Ace lifts the edge of his shirt and checks the wound. “It’s clean,” Ace mutters. “In and out.”
Jett spits in the dirt beside him. “Fuckin’ prick ruined my day.”
Relief loosens the tight knot in my chest. It takes a lot to kill a cowboy.
I drag the shooter across the gravel toward the line of trucks and trailers behind the arena. Jett’s horse trailer sits hitched up nearby.
Ace helps Jett to his feet and limps him toward my truck parked a few spaces over.
“Hunter,” Ace says.
“You’ve got another ride,” I tell him. “You’re not missing it.”
Ace glances toward the arena where the announcer is already hyping the next riders. “You sure?”
“Yeah.”
Jett leans heavily against the side of my truck, still gripping his ribs. “Motherfucker shot me,” he mutters again.
Ace snorts. “You’ll live.”
Together, we haul the shooter to the back of the horse trailer. He’s barely able to stand now, blood smeared across his mouth, but his eyes still carry that same smug glint.
I grab the trailer door and yank it open. Ace shoves the bastard forward, and he stumbles inside.
I slam the door shut and slide the metal latch into place with a heavy clang. Now he’s locked inside with nowhere to go.
Ace wipes his hands on his jeans. “Problem for later,” he mutters.
I nod once. “You deal with him after your ride.”
Ace’s eyes darken slightly. “Oh, I will.”
Jett groans as he slides into the passenger seat of my truck.
“Tell Colten I’ve had to handle this,” I tell him. “And that he needs to take the girls home.”
Ace smirks. “Your wife ain’t gonna like that.”
“No. Neither do I. But she knows the score.”
Lola gets it. And I’ll make it up to her tenfold later. With my tongue.
He types out the message quickly. “Done.”
I glance back toward the horse trailer where the shooter sits locked inside. Then I climb into the driver’s seat and start the engine.
Ace leans against the door for a second. “What’s the message for him?”
My gaze drifts back toward the trailer. “Slice him up,” I say calmly. “And carve something into his chest. Something that makes it obvious.”
A slow grin spreads across his face.
“What message are you sending?” Ace asks.
I meet his eyes.
“NO. That’ll do it. Then let the asshole make his way back to the Greeks with barefeet.”
I pull the truck into gear and drive out of the lot, Jett grumbling beside me as he presses a hand against his side.
“How bad does it hurt?” I ask, keeping my eyes on the road.
“Like a motherfucker, Hunter.”
I chuckle. “The vet will get you fixed up in no time, buddy. Colten has a ton on call at the Ranch for his sanctuary.”
He groans. “A fucking vet? A doctor, please.”
I shake my head. “You wanna explain to a doctor why you got shot at a rodeo, and why the shooter is beat to shit in the back of your trailer?”
He shakes his head.
“No. Didn’t think so.”
And I have to leave my girl at the rodeo. I know Colten will get them home safely. But I also know she’s going to be worried about me. And I hate that.
At least now I know for certain, we’re getting closer to finding the truth. Their web of lies is going to crumble pretty damn soon, I can feel it.