Page 56 of Cruelest Contract (Storm’s Eye Ranch)

JULIAN

C ecilia stirs when I tuck the blanket around her body. The tame light that heralds the approach of dawn sneaks through the edges of the shutters. Even so, she dislikes the heavy blackout drapes that can keep the room dark so I don’t shut them.

"I'll be back in a couple of hours,” I whisper and kiss her cheek.

She’s not really awake but she makes a hum of agreement and a smile tips the corners of her lips. For a moment I give into the stalker impulse to stand beside the bed and stare at her as she retreats into her dreams.

Yesterday we didn’t leave this room. Cecilia can walk but she’s still hurting.

At my command, Fort and Getty drove into town to retrieve Dr. Weatherly so he could examine her.

The old doctor only works at his family practice part time now but after all the years he’s tended to every scrape and broken bone suffered by the four of us boys, I trust him to take care of my wife.

The doctor was optimistic about Cecilia’s injury but cautioned that she ought to see a specialist, especially in light of her surgical history. There’s a chance that the knee joint, already damaged and full of scar tissue, might need more advanced care than just a few days of rest.

Dr. Weatherly watched us grow up and knows us well. He was delighted to hear that Cecilia is expecting. He gave us the name of an excellent OBGYN in Laramie.

My father lurked in the hallway while the doctor examined Cecilia. We exchanged surly looks that said far more than words could. It’s not often that we’re in stark opposition and I’m sure my brothers have noticed.

Today I’ll take my scolding like a man. I’m sure he’s got his speech ready to dish out and I already know the language he’ll choose.

A family oath. A show of strength. No weakness allowed, not ever.

I’ll deal with him later. Before I tolerate my father’s lecture, I’m going out for an early ride.

There are few deeds that bring me more peace of mind than a leisurely horseback trip along the creek.

I’ll be back before Cecilia is fully awake and before the sun rises high enough to inflict its summer heat.

Cecilia’s breathing is deep and even. She’s so angelic that I fight the impulse to brush my lips over her cheek again in case I wake her.

The last thing I do before leaving the room is silently move the desk over to the window.

She’ll enjoy sitting there and writing in her journal with a view of the ranch.

When I open the bedroom door, her cat is waiting to dart in and claim a place on the bed. The cat throws me a triumphant glance and curls up beside Cecilia, already purring.

Downstairs, there’s a hushed silence that’s broken only by the seconds ticking on the wall clock.

The light in my father’s office is on, which is odd.

He’s an early riser and I doubt he’s ever slept more than six hours in one night but this hour is early even for him.

It’s likely he just accidentally left the light on.

Nonetheless, I won’t be sticking my head in there and risking an encounter just yet.

When I log into the security app on my phone, I see that twenty minutes ago Fort briefly disabled the system and exited through the front door.

We typically keep the system armed overnight but get more lax during the day.

We’re always coming and going and there have been too many annoying occasions of the ear splitting alarm getting tripped when one of us barges through the front door in a hurry.

The control room over in Sonny’s barracks has screens dedicated to the cameras pointing at the private road leading up to our property.

No one can wander into Storm’s Eye Ranch without getting noticed.

Fort is exactly where I expect to find him. He’s the only one in here with the horses, aside from the yawning teenager employed for menial stable chores.

The kid’s name is Caleb. A local boy who was given the boot by his mother’s boyfriend the second he turned eighteen, he greets me with a nervous nod and returns to sweeping the floor.

Fort has already saddled up his horse, Emmett.

It’s a sentimental punch every time I remember Brandy, my own horse.

She had to be put down last year due to an intestinal blockage that didn’t resolve after surgery.

That really tore me up. Brandy had a lot of spirit and a frisky temperament.

I was fifteen when she was given to me and we always had a strong bond.

I haven’t had the heart or the time to go searching for a replacement.

Cecilia’s horse, already finished with her morning feeding, is alert and eagerly stretching her neck in the hopes of receiving a tasty snack. I swipe a carrot from the bag hanging on the door and feed it to her.

Fort, leading Emmett, pauses in front of me. “Are you coming out?”

“That’s the plan if you want some company.”

He grins. “That cranky bastard on the end hasn’t been out in a few days if you want to take a chance.”

Omerta. Truth be told, I don’t enjoy riding my father’s horse. He can be one stubborn and irritable son of a bitch.

“He’s still a little skittish thanks to the storm the other day,” Fort explains. “Lightning struck really close to the yard. The exercise would probably settle him down.”

I’m still not clear about what Cecilia was doing outside during the storm when she should have been safely indoors.

Fort and Getty were out fixing the western fence at the time.

Mel only realized that Cecilia was missing when the skies opened up and lightning struck the trees.

There was brief panic before she was found in here.

As for Cecilia, she clammed up and switched to another topic when I asked.

“Want me to get him saddled for you?” asks Caleb.

“I’ll take care of it,” I tell the kid and walk off to the tack room to grab my saddle.

Fort waits patiently outside until I lead Omerta out. The grumpy stallion grunts when I hop on his back but he’s clearly eager to be outside and he quits resisting pretty quickly.

We take the trail to the creek and let the horses stop for a drink. All that rain has raised the water line to the edge of the banks. Any higher and we’d be dealing with a flood.

Fort is ideal companionship when you just want to gulp the scenery and let your mind stray.

Tye would be talking my ear off. Getty would be testing my patience.

Fort is the only one of us who is content to simply be outdoors.

He’s ideally suited to simple ranching life but there were always other plans for him, and for all of us.

To this day Tye has no idea that the only reason he was temporarily released to pursue his pro hockey dreams is because I persuaded our father to let him go.

Getty bounced right back here after a short university stint and if he had other ambitions then he’s never shared them with me.

Fort would have stayed happily immersed in the ranch if the family business hadn’t required him to learn other skills.

“Part of a beaver dam,” Fort points out when we’ve meandered a little farther down the creek.

A sizable clump of mud and sticks floats by. Somewhere upstream there’s a really pissed off beaver that just saw all his hard work destroyed.

We’re only a few hundred yards from the cabin where Cecilia and I spent our short honeymoon. I can see the exact spot where we had our very X-rated picnic.

Damn, those were fun days. I regret that I couldn’t give her more of them.

Fort and I amble along the creek with only bird chatter breaking the silence for another couple of miles before turning back. It’s still early and I want to have breakfast with my wife.

My peaceful mood takes a hit when we clear the trees and I spot a hulking figure clad all in black. He must have watched us set out earlier and now he waits by the driveway on the east side of the house, observing our return.

Fort turns his head to check my reaction. It doesn’t take a genius to sense the waves of anger radiating from our father’s tense posture. When we get closer, Cass Tempesta steps up with his cold eyes fixed solely on me.

Omerta perks up with excitement over the sight of his owner and I dismount when I’m twenty feet away. Addressing my father from up here on horseback won’t be well received.

“Let your brother take the horse,” he says to me. The tightness in his voice is very familiar but not usually fired in my direction.

Fort has now climbed off Emmett’s back and he reaches for the reins. He doesn’t say a word before leading both horses away.

I wait until Fort is out of earshot before confronting the stormy look in my father’s eyes. “How about we go to your study?”

His eyes narrow. There are flecks of silver in the scruff covering his jaw. “We’ll talk out here. I don’t want your mother to hear this.”

Fuck, I hate when he does this, speaks as if his wife is truly still living and breathing instead of buried just beyond the hill to my right.

I think of the first time Cecilia ever stepped into his study and heard him speak to a painting. She was shaken to the core. But then she quickly buried that emotion to play along with the charade. I was deeply impressed with her that day.

“All right, we’ll stay here,” I say, careful to remove any shred of sarcasm.

He appraises me in penetrating silence for an uncomfortable moment before speaking. “There’s plenty of talk that you’re not ready for prime time. Luchese was particularly salty when you walked out on the summit.”

I grind my teeth to squash the anger before responding. “My wife was injured. I had to leave. Since when do we pander to constant troublemakers like Vincenzo Luchese?”

“Luchese’s not the only one talking. As for Cecilia, she was in good hands.”

“She needed me and I wasn’t here.”

“You had a job to do. Instead, you can’t even sit through a meeting. For fuck’s sake you aren’t even on top of this situation with your in-laws. The Grimaldis lack the muscle to keep their own territory under control.”

“It’ll be dealt with,” I snap. “I’m aware of the risks.”

“You better be. I damn well taught you how to handle your responsibilities.”

“And I fucking dare anyone to suggest I don’t fulfill them.”

He rasps out a dark chuckle. “Sulk all you want. That’ll convince the bosses your head is screwed on straight.”

“I don’t owe any of them explanations. None of us do.”

Once again he scrutinizes me for so long I feel like his fingers are thumbing through the folds of my brain. “You were so sure you wouldn’t get distracted by your wife. Now you’re failing at your own goal.”

Every muscle in my body stiffens and I fail to contain my anger. “Caring about my wife isn’t a distraction. Don’t even try to tell me you can’t relate.”

A switch flips and his face transforms into a thundercloud of fury. “Watch it, Julian. I’m warning you. Don’t cross that line.”

“Then you leave my wife out of this. Or I’ll have to point out that you must have been plenty distracted by your own wife back in the day, seeing as how you had four kids before your fifth anniversary.”

I don’t even see the hit coming. His fist cracks against my jaw, his ring scraping flesh. The blow is ruthless but I remain standing.

I’m tempted to hit him back. I’m younger and I’m stronger. He’s no match for me, not anymore. I could knock him into the dirt with ease.

We’re being watched. A couple of the cowboys have paused outside the barn and ogle the scene. Two of Sonny’s men idle near the house and gape in shock.

I’ve always been my father’s favorite son. Disliking the fact doesn’t make it disappear. As the firstborn, my natural place has always been at his side. I don’t even remember accepting the role of his successor. No matter how far back into my memory I reach, it’s always been assumed.

Now I have the power to humiliate him, to shatter the framework of our family. A trace of uneasiness skates over his face as I slowly straighten my back. The taste of blood is in my mouth.

“Want another shot, Dad? Take it.” Moderating my tone to a level of dangerous calm is an acquired skill. It’s one I learned from him.

He blinks and falters but catches himself before he takes a step backward. “The four of you are strong men. I made you that way.”

“You did.” I spit a glob of blood on the ground. “You also made us killers.”

With a snort, he shakes his head in disgust. “This moral crisis is a little overdue, isn’t it, Julian?”

“No crisis. We are what we are now and I’m not sorry. Just don’t pretend like there was ever a choice.”

He’s regained his self-control and matches my tone. “Now you’re a man. Free to make your own choice. First, tell me which of your brothers is capable of stepping into your shoes.”

He knows the answer as well as I do.

Tye is too easily distracted. Getty is too quick to lash out. Fort is too disinterested.

My father nods when he sees I’ve arrived at the obvious conclusion. “You have no need to worry about Cecilia when you’re away. She’s well taken care of. Clear your conscience, son.”

Somehow this stokes my anger more than anything else he’s said. “Cecilia is MY wife. She’s not some fucking family project.”

He lets the words hang there for a moment and takes a deliberate step forward. We’re exactly the same height. Looking into my father’s eyes is sometimes too close to gazing into a mirror. What’s more, he knows it.

“You think I can’t see through you but I do,” he says.

“We’re the most alike, you and me. You thought by marrying that girl you were playing it smart and you’d never get too attached.

That way you’d never suffer the kind of agony that shreds my soul when the sun dares to rise in a world your mother doesn’t get to see anymore. Isn’t that right, Julian?”

His words are viciously accurate. But acknowledging them out loud with my pregnant wife sleeping upstairs is unthinkable.

It doesn’t matter. My father understands the impact anyway.

“If you don’t want to be like me,” he says, “then don’t fucking be like me.”

The second the last syllable drops, he turns and stalks back to the house.

My jaw is starting to swell. There will be no way to hide the evidence from Cecilia. But when I glance up at our bedroom window, I realize I won’t need to hide anything.

She’s watching, seated at the desk I moved to the window earlier. The window is double paned glass and it’s closed. It’s not possible that she heard the ugly argument between me and my father.

But Cecilia is highly intelligent and perceptive. These are just some of the reasons why I admire her so much.

And based on the look on her face, she saw more than enough to draw her own conclusions.