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CHAPTER 39
duke
Kaz was a master of saying a lot without saying a Goddamn thing.
He sat across from me on the ranch house porch, sprawled in one of the Adirondack chairs, like he had nowhere to be and all the time in the world, with a look on his face that said he already knew the ending to a story you hadn’t even started reading.
"Funny thing about bullets," Kaz mused, rolling a whiskey glass between his fingers. "They don’t always hit the person they were meant for."
“Yeah, I’ve been hearing the same thing.”
“How’s Elena?”
“Infuriating! Honest to God, I’ve been tempted to knock her the fuck out. She thinks she can get right back on the horse, literally, after a week of being shot.” I set my glass of whiskey down on the arm of my chair with some force.
At least she was sleeping now. She didn’t have muchenergy, and she went down right after dinner. I stayed with her, holding her, while she talked about which horse needed what. I listened, telling her that between Ben, me, and the others, it was all taken care of.
“You increased security around here,” Kaz remarked.
I nodded. We had.
Cameras went up first—high-definition, motion-activated, infrared for night coverage. Not that they covered everything. On a hundred-thousand-acre ranch, that was damn near impossible, but we placed them at every entrance, along the main roads, near the bunkhouses, barns, and paddocks.
Next came patrols. Hunt had the hands riding the fence lines in pairs, looking for anything out of place. The gates were checked twice a day, and if someone so much as cut through the wire, we’d know.
We reinforced the ranch house, bunkhouses, and barns, installing new locks and floodlights—simple fixes.
No one got onto the property without someone knowing. Guests had to be cleared first. Deliveries were checked. Strangers didn’t get past the front gate without a damn good reason.
I even had Ben and a few of the hands carrying—not all of them, just the ones who were comfortable with it. And I kept my own .45 Colt within arm’s reach.
Was it enough? Probably not. But it was a hell of a lot more than we had before.
I let out a tired breath. “You got something to say, Kaz, or just feel like talking in riddles today?”
Kaz smirked, the kind that could get a man punched,especially since my patience was running thinner than a cheap saddle on a long ride. He set his glass down, tapping one long finger against the table. "Might wanna think about who stands to gain from you being six feet under."
“You think I haven’t?”
Kaz grinned like I’d passed some kind of test. "Good.” He pushed back from the table, standing with an easy stretch. "Keep your head on a swivel, Duke. Would be a shame if all this was for nothing."
On that happy note, he left, and I realized he had told me absolutely nothing, but he had given me food for thought.
After making sure Elena was still asleep and giving Itzel strict instructions to call me if she so much as whimpered, I walked to Hunt’s cabin. It was tucked back in a stand of ponderosa pines. It was a solid, well-built place—not flashy, just comfortable and lived-in: wide wraparound porch, firewood neatly piled against the railing, and a pair of rocking chairs that had seen their fair share of late-night conversations.
Inside, it smelled like cedar, old leather, and faint traces of coffee. The open floor plan made it easy to see everything—a sturdy wooden dining table, a stone fireplace, and a well-worn couch that looked as comfortable as hell. Everything had its place, no clutter, no nonsense—just like Hunt.
I dropped the bottle of whiskey onto the kitchen counter with a dull thud.
Hunt settled against the counter, arms crossed, bootsplanted like he was bracing for some bad news. “Bad news?”
“More like confirmation.” I grabbed two glasses from the cupboard and generously poured each of us two fingers.
“You think it’s Piper?”
“Who the hell else?”
We clinked our glasses and drank some of the amber liquid. “How’s Kaz involved in all of this?”