Page 6

Chloe didn’t sleep well. When she caught snatches, she had dreams of skeletons and snakes. Her subconscious was real subtle.

The sun was only a faint glow in her window when she gave up and got out of bed. She’d check on Ry, go for a run and then figure out a way to sneak some coffee without having to sit down to a whole Hudson breakfast.

She considered tracking down her traitorous cat, but she had a feeling she knew exactly where Tiger would be this morning, and it was best if Chloe stayed away.

Satisfied with her plan, she got dressed in her running clothes, then quietly left the bedroom Mary had put her in last night. She knocked on the door next to hers—no answer. She eased the door open, but the room was empty. Dread curled in her stomach.

She thought she’d scared Ry enough into staying put, into not causing trouble, but when had that ever been the case?

She berated herself as she did her best to silently hurry down the stairs. She needed to make sure he’d left and wasn’t wreaking havoc somewhere on Hudson property. Or sneaking around this house trying to sniff out some booze.

But when she reached the bottom of the stairs, she breathed a small sigh of relief. Ry was there, creeping toward the front door. Maybe he’d slept and was only now considering his escape. She certainly hoped so.

“What the hell are you doing?” she hissed at him.

He jumped and whirled. Then his shoulders slumped in relief when his eyes landed on her. “I wasn’t doing nothing,” he whispered right back.

She didn’t bother to correct his grammar like she might have ten years ago. Back then she’d been so sure she could change him, mold him, at least get him to graduate high school so he’d stop hanging out with their father and his no-good crew.

No such luck there. Now she just hoped she could keep him sober for however long she put up with the Hudsons trying to protect them from whatever was being threatened. Then go back to the hands-off life her therapist had suggested was best.

How on earth had she gotten twisted up in this very complicated situation? She should have known all those years ago, when her father had been adamant about transferring his assets to them before he’d been arrested, that having her name on the ownership of Brink land was only ever going to bring her trouble.

So much trouble.

She got close to Ry and waved her finger at him. “You promise me, promise me , you don’t know what that snake thing was about?” She’d already had this conversation with him in the car last night, but he’d been a little drunk after finding her secret stash while she’d been out watching the sunset with Jack.

Because that was what a girl got for doing something she wanted to do.

But anyway, she wanted to make sure he’d still promise when he was sober.

“Nobody knew I was staying at your place, Chlo. Even if they did, they’re gonna steer clear of a cop’s house. Why would my friends want to mess with you?”

She believed him, mostly because for all the trouble she’d had with Ry before, it was nothing like this. Nothing that targeted her directly. He’d only ever asked her to get him out of trouble. Or for money. No petty dead-animal games with her brother’s equally useless addict friends.

It really bugged her that the most reasonable explanation for the snakes was connecting it to the skeletal remains on the ranch. Bugged her because it meant she agreed with Jack, and it meant it would make sense for them to keep staying here.

But boy, was her brother the biggest liability.

“Morning.”

Ry let out a little yelp of surprise, and Chloe reached for the gun she was not wearing, thank goodness. But when she turned to face the source of the voice—Jack, of course—she noted his raised eyebrow like he knew exactly what she’d been doing.

“Going somewhere?” he asked casually.

But there was nothing casual about the way he looked at Ry. Cop to criminal. Looking for signs that he’d done something wrong. Just like Chloe herself had done.

But when Jack did it, she had to fight the urge to stand between them. To defend her brother.

“A run,” Chloe said, offering him her best sunny smile. “I was trying to convince Ry to go with me, but he’s not much into exercise.”

Jack nodded as if he believed her story. She knew he didn’t.

“Chloe tells me you’re good with animals,” Jack said. Directly to Ry.

Ry stared at Jack, unblinking for a full minute. “Er, yes, sir.”

Chloe wanted to laugh, even with her insides all twisted up. She wasn’t sure she’d ever heard her brother call anyone sir , but Jack was the kind of guy who brought it out in people, she supposed.

“I’ve got a job for you, if you’re wanting to avoid running.”

“Uh.” Ry looked at Chloe, clearly hoping for her to make an excuse for him.

“He’ll take it,” Chloe supplied instead. She didn’t relish the idea of Jack and Ry hanging out, but she’d seen that look on her brother’s face when she’d caught him trying to creep out of here. He’d been ready to go stir up some trouble, and the only thing that ever kept him out of trouble was work. Work with animals was even better. He was good with them. Much better than he was with people, that was for sure.

“Cash could always use a set of hands. I’ll take you over.” Jack tilted his head away from the front door and toward the back of the house. “Follow me.”

“Uh. Okay,” Ry said, clearly uncomfortable, but it was hard to argue with Jack when he was in Mr. Ruler of the World mode. Which was most of the time, she supposed.

Ry took a few hesitant steps forward before Jack began to lead him out of the room.

“You wait right here, Chloe,” Jack said firmly, his back to her as he led Ry away. “We’ll take that run together.”

She scowled after his retreating form. She hated when he bossed her around. Well, in this kind of context, anyway. But since she was a guest in this house, she felt like she had to listen to him.

Which was really, really annoying.

J ACK LED R Y toward Cash’s dog barns without saying anything. It was a bit early yet, even for the ranch, but Jack hadn’t been able to sleep. He’d laid in his bed, staring at the ceiling, knowing Chloe was right above him. Talking himself out of going up there over and over again.

He felt terrible from lack of sleep, but he was damn proud of himself for having some restraint when it came to Chloe.

The morning was cool—a little overcast, so the dawn seemed to hang on longer than usual. Cash and Carlyle wouldn’t be out at the barns just yet since it was so early, but it gave Jack a chance to have a one-on-one conversation with Ry Brink.

He studied the man. Slight and fidgety, but not angry. Uncertain and nervous, sure, but he didn’t look like he was going to bolt or be defiant.

Jack didn’t know what Chloe and Ry had been discussing this morning at the front door, but it definitely wasn’t a run . A lecture about behavior, maybe, but Jack doubted Ry was up at the crack of dawn for good reasons.

Jack pointed to the dog barn in the distance. “You know about my brother Cash, right?”

“Sorta. He’s got lots of dogs or something?” Ry looked around the barn like he was expecting them all to come running. “I do like dogs.”

“He trains them, for all sorts of things. Carlyle Daniels works for him helping train them, but they can always use another body. It’s a lot of work, training them and making sure they’re in good shape. If you like dogs, it’s a good way to spend a day. And you can spend as many days as you like doing it, as long as you follow instructions.”

Ry pulled a face at that. Jack sighed inwardly. He dealt with people all the time who didn’t like to be told what to do—his family, people he pulled over, flat-out criminals—so he knew he had to lay this out in the simplest terms lest Ry be rebellious just for the sake of not following someone else’s rules.

So he stopped, leaned on the fence and studied Ry with his most detached cop look. No emotion, no reaction. Just reason and sense. “I know you don’t like cops—or me. And that’s fine, I don’t need you to.”

Ry fidgeted, not meeting Jack’s gaze.

“I know a lot of things about you, Ry. But first and foremost, I know this—your sister feels responsible for you. You mess this up, you mess her up.”

Ry chewed on his bottom lip, looked around at the dusky dawn of morning across the ranch. “I know.” Then he shrugged. “I don’t do it on purpose. I don’t like messing her up, but I can’t seem to help it.”

“Try. For as long as it takes to figure this out, give it your best shot. We can keep you busy. We can help in whatever ways you might need that don’t include substance abuse. But I need to know you want to try.”

Ry’s frown was frustrated but not belligerent exactly. “I just like to have a little fun and get carried away sometimes.”

“You’re an addict, Ry. First step in helping your sister would be admitting that to yourself.”

The frown turned into a scowl, with some pointed anger thrown in. “I didn’t have anything to do with those bones, man.”

“I don’t think you did.”

Ry looked up at him suspiciously. “Really?”

“It takes time for bodies to decompose, Ry. I can’t imagine you were more than seven when those bodies were put in the ground. Even if they were newer, you don’t strike me as mean enough to kill anybody.”

“I’m not.”

He did not say those words proudly. He said them almost as if he was ashamed of it. Jack couldn’t say he liked that take on the matter. It gave him a different kind of worry—that Ry might want to be capable of murder.

But he could only handle one problem at a time. “Your dad, on the other hand...”

“It does sound like something my dad would do,” Ry agreed. “I mean, I never heard about him killing anybody, but he sure liked to beat people up.”

Jack knew this. He’d arrested Mark Brink for a domestic assault his first year working as a county deputy. But the girlfriend he’d beaten up had refused to press charges. And Jack never liked to think about what that might have meant for the childhood Chloe endured, even if her parents had divorced early on. But she’d bounced between the two—neither one upstanding, reliable or good parents, clearly.

“You ever see him get close?”

Ry sighed, not nervous or fidgety so much now. Bored. Craving a hit. Who knew. “The cops already asked me all about Dad. I don’t have like some secret memory of him killing someone and burying them at the ranch, man. And there isn’t anything in it for me if I protect him, so I ain’t lying.”

Jack nodded. Fair enough. And he’d told himself he’d stay out of it. He could hardly ask his siblings to do what he told them if he was investigating.

He had to let Bent County take care of it.

He squinted across the yard, saw Cash and Carlyle making their way from the main house. When they reached the fence where Jack and Ry were, Jack made introductions, even though Ry and Cash knew of each other.

Jack knew Cash and Carlyle could handle this, but still he hesitated leaving them with Ry. It felt a little bit too much like foisting his responsibilities off on someone else.

But he and Chloe had work, and this was the best-case scenario in keeping Ry out of trouble.

“You do as you’re told, or I kick your ass. Got it?” Carlyle was saying to Ry after she’d explained their opening procedures with letting the dogs out.

Ry’s eyes were wide, but he nodded. Carlyle flashed Jack a grin.

It did a lot to assuage his worries about leaving Ry here with them. Enough so that he headed back to the main house and Chloe. He wouldn’t be surprised if she didn’t wait for him, but he stopped by his bedroom and changed into clothes he could run in.

If it was a bluff, he’d call it. But when he returned to the living room, she was there—bending over, touching her toes, stretching out before her run, he assumed. And she was wearing skin-tight running gear, which did support her previous story. Yet he was having trouble thinking about anything but getting his hands on her.

He didn’t know what it was about her that tested all that hard-won control he’d always been so proud of. He’d been attracted to other women before, had liked other women before, but something about the package of Chloe Brink made him feel like an entirely different person than the one he’d so ruthlessly crafted over the years.

She stopped stretching, looked over her shoulder at him. She didn’t say anything, didn’t voice her concerns, but he saw them in her eyes.

“Carlyle’s in charge of keeping him in line,” he said. “I think he’s afraid of her.”

Her mouth quirked. “Well, that does ease my concerns about going to work later. Carlyle can handle him. For a while, anyway.”

“He’ll be okay.”

Chloe shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe not. But I can’t twist my life around him. Learned that one the hard way.” She blew out a breath. “Thought my cat would be trailing after you, per usual.”

“Tiger found someone he likes better than even me.” When she raised an eyebrow, he couldn’t stop himself from smiling. “Izzy.”

Chloe smiled at that too, as he’d been hoping she would. “Well, he’s in good hands, then.”

“So, run?”

Her smile died and she sighed. “You hate running, Jack.”

“I don’t hate it.”

“You hate it, and I think your family would find it a little weird you’re doing something you hate with me at the butt crack of dawn. I don’t need a bodyguard.”

Which was probably true, and maybe he should just let this go. But he didn’t. “I didn’t realize you were an expert on the layout of the Hudson Ranch.”

She rolled her eyes. “Jack.”

“Chloe.”

Something in her expression hardened. “I think you’re supposed to call me Deputy Brink here.”

He didn’t know what this was about, but he could admit that something about being here made him a whole lot less interested in ignoring any tension there was between them. “Do you want to have a fight about it?”

She huffed out a breath. “No.”

“Then let’s go run.”

“Fine,” she muttered.

He led her outside, pointed to the fence line. “We can follow this out toward the highway, then turn back. Should be about two and a half miles.”

“I usually do five.”

Jack tried not to pull a face. “We can do it twice, then.” What a waste of time.

But then she laughed and slapped him gently in the chest. “Messing with you. One round is fine. Think you can beat me?”

“My legs are longer.”

“Is that a yes?” she returned, eyebrows raised.

But he only shrugged. She shook her head. “All right, buddy. Ready, set, go.” Then she took off. Too fast to start a two-and-a-half-mile run. Or so he thought in the beginning. He assumed he’d catch up to her, but she always maintained a distance. It got slimmer the longer they ran, but even when he began to pour it on, she kept ahead of him.

When the house came back into view, he ran as hard as he could manage. He made it close, but she still beat him. And they both ended in the front yard, bent over hands on their knees, panting.

And laughing. He didn’t know why she was laughing. Maybe because she’d won. He was laughing because it was ridiculous, when he very rarely got prodded into the ridiculous. He was laughing because it didn’t seem to matter what they did or why—just being around her lifted all those weights on his shoulders he’d thought were permanent.

The way she laughed, smiled, enjoyed the smallest things.

“You’re going to have to run with me all the time now,” she said, wiping her forehead with her forearm. “Beating you is my best time in a while.”

All the time . He tried not to think about it, because their jobs made it impossible, but he wondered if she knew how little he’d mind all the time . Forever.

When she looked over at him, gave him a little chest pat he figured was supposed to be a friendly, good game –type gesture, he couldn’t help himself. He held her by the wrist, pulled her in.

She didn’t resist, but she did look up at him warily. “Anyone could see us, Jack.”

“Yeah.” But he didn’t move, and neither did she.