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Story: The Wrong Ride Home

But that was never going to be possible. Not with a ranch this big, sitting on prime real estate. Like it or not, Duke would always have to navigate the political machinery to protect his legacy and keep Wilder Ranch in the family for generations to come.
When Kaz explained why we needed to be in Dallas, we knew we didn’t have a choice. In a last-ditch attempt to sink her claws into her son one last time, Gloria hadtold the DA she wouldn’t negotiate a deal unless Duke was there.
Mac joined us upon Kaz’s advice. He was back to being Kaz Chase, rich and pampered developer—and Duke and I had kept our word to him, not revealing his cover to anyone, though Duke had to tell Kaz that he’d let Hunt in on his suspicions before Kaz read us in.
The room we were ushered into was cold and impersonal, which I expected—glass walls, steel-gray furniture, and the faint scent of burnt coffee and desperation—a little like the observation room we’d been in.
Gloria was already seated at the long conference table when we walked in. She was dressed to the nines, as always—gray silk blouse, black tailored slacks, pearls that probably cost more than most people’s cars. She was the perfect picture of a grieving widow, never mind that she was only grieving for herself.
“I want only Duke.” Gloria stood up when she saw us. She looked up at Duke with wide, watery eyes, the same ones that had manipulated him his entire life.
“You get all three of us or none of us,” Duke told her and then waited.
“My baby,” she whispered.
The DA, an African American woman, looked like she was at the end of her rope with Gloria. She waved a hand to the empty chairs, and we were seated.
“Duke, can’t you come sit next to me?” Gloria patted the chair by her like he was a child, and she just wanted a hug.
“Gloria, this is far enough,” Duke muttered.
She folded her arms and looked straight ahead. “If he won’t sit with me, I’m not doing this.”
The DA sighed. “Fine, let’s get you back to processing and?—”
“No, no,please,” Gloria’s lawyer, a white-haired man in a suit, implored. “She’s just distraught. Duke is her only son.”
“Rusty, let’s get this show on the road,” Duke instructed the lawyer who he obviously knew.
The lawyer mopped his forehead with a handkerchief.
After that, no one spoke for a while and, finally, the DA let out an angry sound. “Mrs. Wilder, you asked for this meeting.”
Gloria let out a shaky breath. “I want to talk to my son.”
The DA didn’t look impressed. “Then, for the love of everythin’ holy, please talk.”
Gloria’s lips trembled as she looked at me. “Duke, sweetheart, you have to help me.” She pressed a delicate hand to her chest. “I’m your mother. I know I made mistakes, but I did everything for you. I?—”
“Not here to help you, Gloria,” Duke cut her off. “I was told you won’t deal unless I’m here. I’m here. Make a deal.”
She flinched.
“Mrs. Wilder, you know we have enough evidence to put you away. You go to trial, and I promise you a jury finds out you tried to kill your son, they’ll give you the death penalty, no questions asked,” the DA warned her.
“Now, let’s not scare Gloria,” the mild-mannered Rusty interjected.
“I’m not scaring her, Mr. Tinder, I’m just laying out the facts.”
Gloria licked her lips and batted her eyelashes. “But…but what if Duke decides not to press charges? Then what?”
The DA looked at Rusty as if asking, “Has she lost her ever-lovin’ mind?”
“Actually, Gloria, since I was the one who got shot thanks to you hiring a hitman to kill your son, I’m the one who would have to drop charges, which I won’t,” I said with a great amount of satisfaction. I wasn’t petty, not usually, but this woman had ruined way too many lives, and I hated her entitled ass.
“You don’t speak to me,” Gloria screeched.
The DA shook her head. “Mr. Tinder, is your client acting this way because she thinks she may have an insanity defense? ‘Cause I can tell you that ain’t gonna work.”