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"Doesn’t change a damn thing," he quipped.
I clenched my jaw, heart pounding, hands trembling. This was too much.
Mac cleared his throat. "Just letting you know that once it's signed and notarized, it'll be officially recorded with the county clerk. Copies will be filedwith your attorney and executor, and the original will be kept on record.”
“Let’s get to it.”
I swallowed hard, but my voice still came out shaky. "Wait. What if I don’t want it?"
Duke’s lips curled just slightly. "Too bad."
Nokoni came up to Duke before he left and hugged him. When he set him away, tears rolled down his cheeks. “Thank you. For not selling. For making that will.”
Duke shrugged and then grinned. “Just sayin’, Nokoni, I’m plannin’ on having a shit ton of kids, so I don’t know if you’ll get your hands on the ranch.”
Nokoni looked at me. “Shit ton of kids?”
I sighed with feigned distress. “I have no words.”
That night, when we lay in bed, gasping for air because we’d both just come hard, I told him that I didn’t like that he had a will.
He stroked my back as I lay on top of him. He was still inside me, spasming with aftershocks. He’d refused to make love to me until I’d forced the issue tonight, riding him for all I was worth.
“Gotta have a will, Elena, when there’s so much money involved, or the government will stake a claim.” He kissed my hair. “That’s the legal stuff. Emotionally, I need to know if something happens to me, you’re taken care of.”
“I don’t want anything to happen to you,” I whined, raising my head.
“I’m going to work real hard to stay safe and keepyousafe,Florecita,” he murmured. “But shit happens, yeah?”
Duke’s warm, steady breath brushed against my bare shoulder as I lay curled against him, my body relaxed, my mind quiet for the first time in weeks.
Then—the yelling began.
“Fire,” I heard someone scream.
“Fuck!” Duke sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. The muscles in his back tensed, shoulders squared.
I was about to get out of bed when he stopped me. “Stay put.” His voice was gruff, commanding.
My brows pulled together. “Like hell!”
“I mean it, Elena.” He pulled on his jeans, then grabbed his boots and shirt, moving fast. Too fast. He kissed me quickly. “Just stay here. I’ll handle it.”
I didn’t stay put. I threw on my clothes and boots.
“What’s going on?” Itzel asked, bundling into a robe when I got to the kitchen hallway.
“Fire. Take care of Ally.”
I was about ten minutes behind Duke, and I ran all the way to the stables, my shoulder throbbing. I wasn’t a hundred percent. It took a while to get better from a gunshot wound.
The air was dense with smoke and thick with panic. Flames devoured the barn, turning the night into a blinding inferno—a nightmare brought to life. Voices shouted orders, and hands moved fast—a bucket line was already forming. But then, over the roar of the fire, I heard my horse, Whiskey Rush.
No!
I ranto the stables, confident that Duke and Hunt had the barn fire under control.
When I got there, the stalls were empty, just as they should be. The horses had already been moved to the paddock—standard protocol during a fire: keeping them confined inside a structure, even one that wasn’t burning, was too risky. Smoke could spook them, cause them to thrash, bolt, or injure themselves. Out in the open, they had space, air, and safety.