Page 72 of For Cowgirls and Kings

The casino looms—aghostly shadow on my already dark mood.

I want to be with Dale right now, not here, not with my sister and McCrae. But even I knew it was time to address some things, before they got too far out of hand. After the brief but loaded conversation with the police yesterday, Dale had questions for me. Questions I still didn’t know how to answer—starting with the description of the two dead brothers, what was going to happen now, and ending with,is she safe?

Today Faith, Stetson, Dale, and their guard dog Gus, are all at Dale’s house, gathering up what she needs to live comfortably at my house. It eats me alive that I’m not there, helping, but I know I’ll be more help here, getting answers.

Gus gave me that look this morning, before we parted ways:do you have any idea what kind of situation you’re putting yourself in? Or maybe it was:hurt her more and I’ll kill you.I honestly don’t know which, we’re still not talking.

My skin begins to prickle, and I look up right as the truck comes to a complete stop. V and McCrae stand in the entrance, their expressions stoic and unforgiving, like a couple ofgargoyles looming over a castle. My instincts scream at me to turn around and leave, but I climb out, adjusting my shirt as I straighten, and stride toward them.

Valentina waits until I’m almost to her before her expression cracks, revealing a sneer. “So nice of you to finally grace us with your presence.” Without a backwards glance, she turns and begins walking into the casino, and straight for my office.

“I’ve been a little busy,” I argue, pissed off that she still doesn’t seem to care about Dale. Or the fact that the tip I received pointed right to her.

“Is she doing okay?” It’s McCrae who asks, and I shoot him a skeptical look. Reluctantly, I nod.

“She will be. She’s coming to live with me until we find the third kidnapper.”

This causes V to come to a screeching halt, and I have to stumble around her to keep from running directly into her back. “You’re joking,” she hisses, her eyes narrowed at me. “You’re going to play house with her?”

“Why are you like this? And while we’re at it, why the hell did that anonymous call point to you, and you knowing right where to look?” I cross my arms expectantly.

But instead of answering, she shakes her head, red curls swishing, “Pathetic.” And then veers left, into the women's restroom, and away from my growing list of questions.

“She’s under a lot of pressure,” McCrae huffs, as if that excuses my sister’s beastly personality.

I face him. “What did the police say to you? And what did you do with the men?”

“They took both bodies, and ruled it as self-defense. I’m surprised they didn’t tell you that when they came and talked to you.” His eyes narrow, as if contemplating something.

“I don’t know if they believe your story,” I offer. I don’t know if I believe his story either—something aboutit just feels off, even if I’m too grateful to go digging into it more. At the end of the day, Dale’s safe because of him, and those men, although human, will never be able to hurt her again.

He shrugs again,always so fucking indifferent,“Yeah, they said as much. But they’re lazy bastards. Remember what they did for my brother’s woman, or rather, lack thereof? You could commit murder in the middle of that dusty ass town, and the cops would look the other way.”

I eye him, agreeing with what he’s saying, but waiting for him to fill in what he’snotsaying.

He doesn’t and I release a ragged breath. “What did they look like?”

His eyes narrow. “What?”

“The guys who attacked you. What did they look like? Any specific markings, anything?”

He scratches behind his head. “I guess a few. The one was shorter, with cropped hair. And he had all kinds of tattoos, but there was one that was”—he draws an arc over his ear—“a name or something.”

“And the other?”

“Nothing remarkable that I remember. I guess he had long hair, super gangly bastard.”

I nod, it’s at least something I can offer Dale. Not that it’s much—I imagine some of them treated her worse than others—I just hope the one that got away wasn’t the worst of them all.

“What’s with the girl who was with you?”

“Who?” I ask, straightening a little.

“The blonde one.”

“Faith?”

He rolls his eyes, mumbling something under his breath, that sounds a lot like“of course that’s her name,”and then waves me off. “Nevermind.”