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Duke put a hand on my shoulder, the one that wasn’t shot, and rubbed gently.
"The shooter was positioned high, likely using a long-range rifle. Whoever it was knew what they were doing—steady hand, clean shot. No hesitation.”
A chill ran down my spine. The man was using terms I’d never heard in my life like,sniper’s perch. What the fuck was that?
My stomach turned as what he said sank in. I looked at Duke. “Someone was watching us,” I whispered.
He continued to stroke my shoulder. “Yeah, baby.”
My skin crawled at the thought. Somewhere up there, hidden in the trees or behind a rocky outcrop, someone had been lying in wait, eyes locked on us, finger resting on the trigger while we made love.
I could picture the nest—trampled grass, the smell of gun oil lingering in the air, maybe a spent casing left behind in the dirt. The shooter had been still, patient, waiting for the right moment. Not an amateur. Not a panicked, last-second decision. He waited until we were done, dressed…God!
And then it got worse.
“We have some intel that says the hit was meant for Duke?—”
“Hugh, shut the fuck up,” Duke snapped. “I told you we weren’t going to?—”
“No, don’t shut the fuck up,” I raged. “I got shot because of you, you motherfucker, I deserve to know everything. So, tell meevery fucking thing, Sheriff.”
He chuckled. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Elena—” Duke began.
“Why the hell is someone wanting you dead, Duke?” I cried out. “I mean…what the fuck?” Then I looked at the sheriff. “How do you know it was for him and not me?” But I already knew why. I was a nobody.
“You moved suddenly…according to Duke, and I think you got hit on the shoulder. If you hadn’t, Duke would’ve taken that bullet to the chest."
My stomach dropped. I had wanted to kiss him before getting on Whiskey. “What are you…like doing cartel business or something in Dallas?” I looked at Duke, incredulous.
Duke kissed my temple laughing softly. “No, baby, I’m not.”
“Then what?” I looked around.
“We think this may be connected to me not wanting to sell Wilder Ranch any longer,” Duke explained.
"You're telling me”—I let his words sink in—"that I got shotbecausesomeone wants to kill your assbecauseyou won’t sell this fucking ranch?”
Duke arched an eyebrow. "Elena?—"
I stood, my chair scraping against the floor andwinced. "I swear to God, Duke, if you don’t figure out who did this and fix it, I will personally kick your ass. And you, Sheriff, do you know how to handle somethin’ like this? It’s not like we shoot people around here.”
Sheriff Dillon cleared his throat, trying not to smile. "Yes, ma’am, we can handle this."
After the sheriff left, I went toourbedroom since Duke had moved me out of the bunkhouse.
Duke followed. “Baby?”
I swallowed and flopped down on the bed. “You can’t die.”
“I won’t.”
“I got shot…so, yeah, you can, too, die,” I retorted angrily. “Maybe just sell the ranch. It’s not worth your life.”
“I thought we decided not to run scared anymore.” He put an arm around me, and I rested my head on his shoulder.
“You think the universe is sending us a message? We had sex for the first time sincethat summer,and I got shot. What’s gonna happen next time? The house burns down?” I knew I was sounding dramatic, but I felt fucking awful.