Page 13

JD

I hear the sound first.. the low hum coming a mile out. There’s no mistaking the sound of an engine thrumming hot like that. I knew it well. The second tell is the plume of clay red desert dust the bike is kicking up as it races down the only road in or out of the ranch.

“The fuck?” My older brother, Cal’s eyes narrow as he throws down his thick work gloves to grab the lead of his horse who senses whatever is heading our way can’t be good.

My hand rests on my hip, a reminder of the Glock I kept tucked away to battle rattlers. Never had to shoot anything else.

Yet.

“I’m going to fucking ring their necks. Whoever is coming, I’m gonna punch them the fuck out—remind me to close the entrance gate every fucking day. Get Colton on the radio! Make sure the horses are corralled. The Stallions are going to go fucking nuts!”

My eyes squint—fighting against the setting rays of the desert sun. I try to make out who the fuck dares to speed onto our ranch, spook the horses, and set my brother off like a firecracker. Angry Cal is a whole new level.

“Shit,” I drawl. Of course it’s them. The most unlikely brotherhood ever formed in my opinion.

Tarak, the former Prez of the Royal Bastards and his new brother in law, Edge, who somehow manages to have one foot in two MC’s—The Bastards and the Scorpions are riding in a V-pattern with another MC guy behind.

“You know them?” My brother’s scowl swings from our guests to me as they shut down their engines.

“I used to.”

“JD! Brother! We heard you were back!”

A string of curses fall from my mouth as I wave a hand in greeting.

“You spooked my horses, mother fuckers.” Cal crosses his arms, as he stares them all down. Or attempts to.

Edge shrugs.

Tarak scowls.

The third guy looks younger than Tarak by almost a decade. I studied him hard.

“The fuck?” I mouthed to Edge, after noticing the Prez of The RBMC Santa Fe patch on the new guy’s leather kutte. “Did you and Tarak trade kuttes? How cute.” I gave the new guy shit.

Tarak shakes his head. “Damn, Northport. You are the only mother fucker in this zip code who has the balls to talk shit to us.”

“Damn straight.”

The two of them don’t like to be talked down to. They think they run Santa Fe and all corners of the desert in all directions .

“What brings you out to our ranch?” Cal cuts right through all the bullshit.

“We’re parched. It was on our way.”

“To where?”

Our ranch borders a canyon in the back and miles of dust that won’t grow a weed to the front. He’s full of shit and we both know it.

“In between here and there,” Tarak evades.

“We have an update.” Edge breathes.

My fists clench. My breathing slows. My body coils like a snake about to strike.

“JD?” My brother questions.

“I asked the Royal Bastards to look into something for me.”

“You did what?” he roars.

“Fucking relax. I hit nothing but dead ends the way I was looking.”

“For her? The fuck—JD leave her in the past. She’s gone! We don’t need favors from people like them.”

“Say that again?” Tarak snarls.

I lifted a hand stopping the advance from the MC men onto our porch.

My brother’s blue blood bullshit was about to get him laid out.

And I wasn’t sure I’d stop it. Edge stalks closer—he’s big.

No one ever fucks with him. “You gonna invite us in? We best talk inside. You know like civilized folk and all that…”

My brother’s jaw clenches.

“Inside—my office.”

The smell of oil, leather, and tobacco felt oddly like home as Edge claps me on the back. “It’s all good brother.”

We were brothers—once. I nodded, motioning them to follow me to the side door around the wrap-around porch .

Edge and I go way back—to childhood when father thought I had something and let me play pee wee football.

I was the QB and Edge my wide receiver. We had some good times until mother shut it down.

Couldn’t have me befriending the wrong kid.

Then onto our rebellious teen years when Edge played for the opposing high school and we’d party out on the mesa after games.

When I met Red—all I wanted was every second with her.

I pause just outside the door, rub my boots on the thickly bristled mat before entering the ice cold air.

The AC feels good as it hits my skin. “Whiskey?” I ask casually despite everything in me tense and ready to lash out.

Tarak grunts a response. I pour two fingers neat into antique crystal tumblers.

The ranch has been in our family for three generations. The crystal decanter heirloom I’m pouring from is just as priceless as the art hanging on the wall behind Cal’s desk. Running the ranch was always his dream. Mine was different. Or so I had thought.

“Glad to see you back, JD. We need more good men in the desert.”

“I’m not staying long.”

“The heat still gets to you?”

I arched a brow as I turned, handing Edge his whiskey. “It was never the heat.”

“Ah, yes. Now I remember. It was the girl. You left town right after she?—”

“Drop it,” I warned as my brother finally entered his study. The frown lines on his forehead about a quarter of an inch deeper.

Tarak’s back was to us as he sipped his drink, his gaze on the sprawling ranch beyond the window. The new Prez, was oddly silent. But he saw everything.

“River. River Cruz,” I dipped my head in acknowledgment as he finally identified himself as I passed him a drink.

The hard lines on Cal’s face deepened as he saw I was serving our guests two hundred year old whiskey from our great—great— grandfather’s set. I shrugged in response as Cal settled behind his desk, waving away the drink I was about to pour.

“So? Begin?”

Tarak turned from the window. “We are doing your brother a solid here, Northport. Show some fucking manners.”

Cal’s face turned a dark red. “JD just served you our best. Did you think I forgot the night I found you drunk, half-naked and covered in war paint inside my barn, letting my horses free while yelling that your people owned my land while lighting my haystack on fire?”

I swirled my whiskey, the corners of my lips turning up. Shit. I didn’t think Cal would bring that up. Tarak is someone no one in the bordering three states fucks with. Ever. But Cal doesn’t give a shit about the MC or how much blood might be on Tarak’s hands.

“I was… going through a bad time. My fiancee had just died.”

“Whatever. Don’t try that shit again. You’re damn lucky your mother was a nice lady or I would’ve pressed a laundry list of charges…”

“I’m a married man now. My past, no longer haunts me.”

Cal responded with a grunt.

“Mine still fucking does,” I muttered, letting the whiskey burn as I slammed the empty glass down. “What did you find about… her ? ”

“We were on Club business south of the border a few weeks back… shit went a bit sideways… one man begged for his life by saying he knew things about girls disappearing… I thought he was high as fuck. My Glock was in his mouth, my finger on the trigger… when I noticed the ring on his pinkie. It’s The Ranch’s Logo. Your family crest.”

My fists clenched.

“He swore he got it at the pawn shop. Saying it caught his eye.”

“Bullshit!” I roared, slamming my drink down so hard the crystal glass shattered. Tarak reached into his pocket, next thing I knew the ring clanked on Cal’s desk.

“You sure it’s the one you gave her, because brother it ain’t good. He’s a serial rapist and murderer… Served time and time again…”

“Son of a bitch!” I roared. “Motherfucker! It’s her’s. Red’s. I put in on her ring finger swearing I’d replace it with a diamond one day. Red!” I roared, flipping Cal’s four hundred pound antique desk like it was nothing.

River and Edge grabbed my arms, preventing me from going fucking loco in there.

“Easy brother. We’ve got you.” Tarak, tried calming me down but all I could see was my woman dead out in the desert somewhere. Her body in a place no one would ever know.

“Did…did you get where he dumped her?” My voice was rough, broken gl ass. I didn’t give a fuck I was crying in front of them. I was done. My soul crushed.

No wonder my private investigator’s never found a trail.

“Thanks for returning the ring. The asshole…?”

“We saved him for you…” my head picked up at that. “You still have that bike we fixed up senior year?”

I nodded. Still unable to speak. I was so close to closure but not the kind I wanted.

I led the group out to our spare barn where we kept antique cars and whatever projects my younger brother Colton had going.

My hands shook as they lifted the corner of the tarp.

There she was.

All shiny chrome and pimped out.

My teenage fantasy ride that never came to fruition. The refurbished Ducati was a dream from a time best forgotten.

My fists clenched.

I was gonna send someone to hell tonight, then I’d grieve for Red one last time—finally getting closure.

“JD?”

I turned, Cal was back with Colton on his heels. The two of them eyeing me with worry Colton’s ranch truck parked in a hurry haphazardly blocking an exit.

“I’m gonna kill the son of a bitch who took Red from me. Then it’ll be done. The past. Let me have this. Let me go with them.” I nodded to the men from The Royal Bastards.

Cal’s big hand gripped my arm. “I can’t let you do that.”

“Why? Because then your half-brother will be a someone you can’t look at? Fuck it, Cal you and I both know a different set of blood runs in my veins. Does it shock you I’d kill? If you… if you loved like I have… you’d understand why I need to do this.”

“I can’t let you do this—kill an innocent man.”

“He’s not innocent,” Tarak drawled.

“It was me.” Cal’s whisper dropped like a bomb.

“What?” I turned my head, feeling my throat close. “…Cal?” I growled.