Page 3 of Dirty Cowboys (Masked Men #7)

Duke

I close my laptop and lean back in my desk chair, stretching my arms in the air. Walker and Nash are sprawled across the leather couch in my home office, both having read over my shoulder as I scrolled through Indie’s blog for the third time tonight.

“Well, shit,” Nash states with a grin.

Walker hasn’t spoken yet, but I can see the tension in his shoulders, the way his gray eyes have gone dark.

“Masked men on horses,” I repeat, still trying to wrap my head around how that would even work.

“What are we going to do about it?” Nash asks.

I’ve been asking myself the same question since I finished reading tonight’s entry. But writing about it and experiencing it are two different things.

The three of us have been together for years now, our arrangement working perfectly for our needs and the demands of ranch life.

The women accessible to us are those who have been here since the day they were born, but if one person discovers what happens between us, everyone will, and we don’t want certain things to be public knowledge.

“You saw how she looked at us at the rodeo,” Walker finally says, and his rough voice has Nash shifting in his seat, ready to throw his clothes off. “She was watching us just as much as we were watching her.”

He’s right. Even from across the arena, I could feel the pull between us. We knew she was taking our picture, yet none of us did anything about it.

“She wants to be hunted and roped,” I reply, making sure they fully understand what this means. “What if she can’t handle it?”

Nash beams. He is the impulsive one of our trio and acts before he thinks. “There’s only one way to find out.”

I stand up and walk to the window overlooking the fields stretching toward Indie’s rental.

The little farmhouse sits about a mile across open pasture.

It’s close enough that we could ride there easily, yet far enough her screams wouldn’t carry to anyone else.

The thought really shouldn’t turn me on so much.

“We have to do this right,” I say. “We can’t just storm over there like animals.”

“So what’s the plan then, boss?” Nash asks with a wink.

I turn back to face them, my mind already working through the logistics.

“We start small. Let her know she’s being watched—that her fantasies might not be as impossible as she thinks.”

Walker nods slowly as he catches on to what I’m saying. “Test her. See how far she really wants this to go. Put the offer out there to see if she bites.”

“Exactly.” I move to my desk and pull out a map of our combined properties. “She likes to walk the property line late in the afternoon, taking photos.”

“You’ve been watching her,” Nash says, but there’s no judgment in his tone.

“Yes,” I admit. “She posts everything online. Her followers might not know where she is, but I know this town.”

Nash suddenly jumps up from the couch. “I’ll be right back,” he says, heading for the door.

Walker and I exchange a look. Who knows what thought just entered his brain, but he is always like this, and it’s something we’re used to. He returns ten minutes later carrying a black duffel bag, grinning like he’s just solved the mystery of life.

“What’s in the bag?” Walker asks. Knowing Nash, it could be anything, and sometimes you’re better off not knowing.

“Remember the rave gear from last year?” Nash unzips the bag to reveal three glow masks.

“You kept those?” I stare at him in disbelief.

“I keep everything that might be useful someday,” Nash replies, pulling out the masks one by one.

“She’ll be able to see us coming,” I say, still trying to accept anyone could be into what she has written. While I won’t kink shame—you can like what you like—I would much rather command her to her knees.

“Exactly,” Nash says. “We want her to know she’s being hunted.”

“Tonight?” Walker only has to utter the one word to reveal he’s keen.

I consider it. Indie’s been in town for a few days, and we have barely had any interaction. I doubt she would suspect it’s us.

“Tonight we let her know she’s being watched,” I confirm.

Nash nods, but I can see the excitement in his eyes.

“Rules. We move as a unit. No one acts without the others. We keep our distance until we’re sure she wants this,” I insist .

“And if she runs?” Walker asks.

“Then we let her run,” I say. “But we follow. Part of her fantasy is the chase.”

Nash is already pulling on his mask, adjusting the settings until it glows with a soft brown light.

Both Walker and I take our masks, and we spend the next thirty minutes going over the plan.

“She usually starts her walk around seven.” I check my watch. “That gives us an hour to get ready. Find old boots, and things you no longer wear.”

By the time we’re ready to head out, the sun is partly below the horizon.

Indie has been in the back paddock taking pictures for almost an hour, as she likes to walk back in the dark.

If this wasn’t Copper Creek it could be dangerous, but deep down Indie must love that fear.

The adrenaline that comes with not knowing what’s hiding in the shadows.

Well, tonight it’s us.

“It’s time to saddle up,” I say, and we head to the barn.

We ready our horses, then mount up, masks secured but turned off.

Excitement fills my bones. We have never spoken about bringing a girl into our relationship before, or even so much as shared one.

We still fuck women, but normally when rodeos bring strangers into town—women who will warm your bed for a night and leave the next day.

I tried a relationship once, but the long days and workload left her needing more than I could give.

“Remember,” I say, “we’re going out there to get consent.”

The ride to the property line doesn’t take long, and by the time we reach the trees that mark the boundary between my land and the Patterson place, the sky has darkened. She should be just about ready to head back to the farmhouse.

I raise my hand, signaling Nash and Walker to halt.

From this position, we have a clear view of the farmhouse and the path that winds through the paddock behind it.

As we predicted, Indie turns and starts to walk before stopping for a moment.

She looks our way, but we are hidden, and she won’t be able to see us at this distance.

“There she is,” Nash whispers, his voice slightly distorted by the mask even though he hasn’t turned it on yet.

Indie moves along her usual route, stopping every few feet to capture pictures of the stars. I guess in the city they wouldn’t look so perfect.

She’s wearing the same perfectly new jeans and boots she wore at the rodeo. My cock stiffens as I take in the hat she has on. She may need to do some hard work to break in her boots, but a girl in a Stetson—damn .

And she is still utterly oblivious she’s being watched.

“How do we want to do this?” Walker asks, finally breaking his silence.

“Let’s do this roundup style,” Nash suggests.

“The goal is to let her see us,” I remind them. “We want her to know she’s surrounded, but not cornered. Always leave her an escape route back to the house.”

They nod and split off. Nash’s horse picks its way carefully through the tall grass while Walker disappears from my line of sight. Within minutes, they’re in position, and I can see the soft glow of their masks.

Indie has moved about halfway along the path now, completely absorbed in getting the perfect shots for her online followers.

It’s time.

I urge my horse forward, breaking cover from the tree line, moving just fast enough to catch her attention—though she takes almost thirty seconds to notice.

When she does, she freezes. Her phone drops to her side as she stares. Then, even from this far away, I can see the moment recognition hits.

She stands still in the field while I continue moving closer. Fear takes over, and I secretly urge her not to let it consume her; she needs to use it to remember this is what she wanted .

Nash makes his move. She spins toward him as Walker emerges from her right.

Now she can see all three of us, positioned in a triangle with her at the center. The glow from our masks is the only light, hopefully setting the scene for her.

She turns in a slow circle, taking in each of us. Her breathing has changed. I can see her chest rise and fall rapidly even from this distance.

But she hasn’t run. Not yet.

I move my horse closer, cutting the distance between us. Nash and Walker mirror my movements, keeping our triangle formation as we slowly close in.

Indie raises her phone, and for a moment I think she’s going to photograph us. Instead, she clutches it against her chest, her eyes wide as she watches us approach.

When we’re about thirty feet away, I hold up my hand again, and all three of us stop.

We sit and wait, leaving the ball in her court.

What happens next is up to her; we would never take advantage of a woman.

Though we hope she wants this because it’s an opportunity that doesn’t come around very often.

Indie takes a step backward toward the farmhouse, a smile on her face.

Then she spins and runs.

She’s fast for someone in new boots, but she’s no match for the horses. We follow at a pace that gives her the illusion she’s close to getting caught. She stumbles once but catches herself.

This kind of chase is something that could easily become an addiction. The way she glances back over her shoulder, her eyes wide but not truly afraid, has lust flooding my veins.

We herd her like cattle. Nash and Walker flank her while I bring up the rear, ensuring she stays on course toward the farmhouse.

When she is near the house, I whistle. Nash and Walker peel off, disappearing into the darkness as quickly as they appeared. I continue following her until she stumbles onto her porch and stares at me. I turn and leave, my smile wide behind my mask, knowing that this is the start of something fun.

Nash and Walker are waiting for me beyond the Patterson’s property line.

“Think she’ll be back out tomorrow night?” Nash asks.

“Oh, she’ll be back,” I say with certainty.

Walker smirks, even though I know he’s a tad more reserved about the situation. When he is with a woman, he likes to fuck them from behind, hard and fast, so he doesn’t give in to temptation and scare them away. But honestly, I think Indie might be exactly what he needs.