Page 48 of The Rogue (Four Corners Ranch #11)

Denver King knew that it was a lofty goal for a man like him to avoid hellfire altogether. Given his lineage, it was easy

to see why many people assumed that in the afterlife he would be down south passing beers over righteous flame with some questionable

characters for company. But in truth, he had done his part to try and balance his moral scales a little bit.

But for his sins, hellfire was currently headed his way.

He was standing out in the brand-new public area of King’s Crest. Where they had just opened their new event venue, and several

places that were equipped for overnight stay.

That was when she appeared.

Dark hair flowing behind her, the twining ink vines visible from her shoulder down to her wrist thanks to the rather brief

tank top she had on.

And it was freezing . But sure. A tank top. That seemed about right for Sheena Patrick.

But it wasn’t the tank top, the fierce look in her eye, her absolute smoke show of a body or the tattoos that caught his attention.

Tattoos he had often wondered about the intricacies of. The vine on her right arm disappeared beneath her tank top, and he felt it was human to wonder where it went from there.

But that wasn’t it. It was the bright red chip she held in her hand.

Lord Almighty.

As she got closer, he could see she had a full face of makeup on at 8:00 a.m. He didn’t know if it was because she was coming

off the bar shift the night before and hadn’t taken it off, or if she was ready for tonight. But the black liner made her

green eyes glow, and the deep color on her lips was enough to make a saint consider what it might look like left behind on

his skin.

And he was not a saint.

There was no denying that she was hot.

She was also a hundred percent completely off-limits.

And Denver King did not push limits.

He had no interest in hellfire. Whatever form it took.

That was the thing.

She stopped right in front of him, lifting one dark brow and holding the chip up just so it covered his view of her face.

“I’ve come to cash in,” she said.

Her voice was smoky. Like a late night and a shot of whiskey.

He looked at the chip. He didn’t take it. “Have you?”

The truth was, he’d given out poker chips to any number of his father’s victims.

In the years since, many of them had come asking for money. And that was the point of it. An acknowledgment that he owed them.

That they had the right to come to him and cash in. Nobody had actually brought the chip.

Nobody else had waited this long.

Any chip that hadn’t been cashed in so far belonged to dead men, who had continued on in the rough life his father had been part of.

Sheena was the last holdout.

But then, he had been sending money to Sheena and her family ever since that botched job that had cost her dad his life all

those years ago.

He held his father, Elias King, personally responsible for that. And it was up to him to make restitution for it. He had always

seen it that way. It didn’t matter whether or not he had done it himself.

The sins of the father would be visited on the son. And God knew he meant to try and wipe that slate clean. He surely did.

“And what is it exactly that you want to collect?”

She lowered the chip. “I have a proposition for you.”

“Name a dollar amount.”

She shook her head. “I’m not after a dollar amount, King. It’s not that simple.”

He frowned. “Go on.”

“I have a business proposition.” There was something sharp and clear in her eyes, and he had a feeling this was going to be

a long talk.

“All right. It’s awfully cold. You want to go inside?”

She snorted. “Do I look like I’m shivering?”

No. She didn’t. But he had always thought that Sheena might be powered by a hidden fire in her belly. God knew she’d been

fighting a hell of a lot harder than most for a hell of a lot longer. He respected her. That was the thing. When her dad had

died, she’d been left with three younger siblings to raise. And she had done a hell of a job.

She hadn’t allowed his family to fully take her in. But that didn’t surprise him. Not that he and Sheena knew each other. They didn’t. In fact, other than him ordering a beer from her on the occasional night out at Smokey’s, he didn’t have anything to do with her. Not directly.

He would go up, lay eyes on the place, make sure nothing had burned to the ground. Put an envelope of cash in the mailbox

and go on.

They saw each other from a distance, if that.

This was the longest conversation they’d had in thirteen years.

“All right, then. Tell me.”

“It doesn’t sit right with me,” she said. “Being in your debt. But I have an idea that’s going to help us both.”

“You’re not in my debt. Your father is dead because of mine. There’s no amount of money on earth that can make up for that.”

She snorted. “Your opinion, King, not mine. My dad was a worthless son of a bitch. Yeah. It was hard, being left without somebody

bringing in money, but my dad himself wasn’t worth the carcass of a moth-eaten buzzard. I’m not sorry he’s gone. He did nothing

but bring bullshit down on us. So no. It isn’t like you robbed us of our loving patriarch. And hell, you didn’t even have

anything to do with it. Not directly.”

“Close enough,” he said.

He’d been drawn in by his dad. By his proclamations about how what he did, he did for the family. The truth was, he didn’t care about his family. His wife had left him, and he’d painted it as a betrayal to their clan. He’d said he had to work even harder to make things right for the kids.

Denver had bought into it. But then their father’s facade had started to crumble. The treatment of his sister after her accident

was a red flag he couldn’t ignore. And after that... the last job. The one where he’d really seen his dad. The violent

man he could be.

And one thing Denver had learned that day for sure: violence begot violence.

“All right,” she said. “That’s your opinion. But I’m not putting that on you. I want to pay you back. To that end, I want

in on the expansion here at King’s Crest.”

He owed Sheena, that much was true. But the control freak inside him balked immediately at the thought of allowing anyone

in .

“Is that so?”

“Yes. I have a business plan. You know I work over at Smokey’s.”

She knew full well he knew it. He had a feeling she’d said that to highlight the total separation in their lives. They knew

each other. They kept it brusque and bare minimum like they didn’t.

“Yes,” he confirmed.

“And before that I was tending bar down in Mapleton. People need more to do. More nightlife. Smokey’s is fine, but it’s a

very particular thing.”

“A meat market,” he commented.

She shrugged. “Sure. Everybody loves a little beef.”

He couldn’t tell if she was smirking or smiling. Or some combination of the two.

“All right. Go on.”

“Axe throwing.”

“Excuse me?”

“Axe-throwing bars have begun to be a big deal. I hear you’re making beer down here. Add a little bit of food, and you’ve

got Pyrite Falls’ newest hot spot.”

“Axe throwing.”

“Yeah. It’s fun. You let off steam, you hang out with friends. You fling deadly weapons around.”

“Sounds like a liability.”

“I didn’t take you for a bitch, King.”

“I didn’t think you took me for anything.”

“Nothing but an envelope in a mailbox. And this chip,” she said, brandishing it again. “Anyway. The point is, people do this

all the time. It’s perfectly safe. I had the opportunity to go check one out when I went down to Medford recently. It’s a

good time, and more importantly it’s packed. I’ve got a lot of data about it as a growing pastime. Also, I’m great at it.

You know, not so much in bars, but I do it for fun at home.”

“It sounds like hipster bullshit.”

“Do I look like hipster bullshit to you?” She put her hands on her hips, her dark hair sliding over her shoulder, shiny even

in the overcast light.

“A little bit,” he said, looking over the tattoos. Really, it was like one continuous tattoo. Vines and flowers that twined

up her arm, down into the tank top, so where else it went, he didn’t know. He wondered, though.

“That just goes to show that you don’t know me.”

It was deliberate. The not knowing her. He had wanted to help her while leaving her as untouched by all of this as possible. It was different with Penny. Penny had been alone in the world. No one was coming to save her or take care of her. Sheena had her sisters.

She squared up with him, the determination on her face something no sane man would dismiss.

“I have a whole business plan,” she said. “This isn’t coming from nothing. Believe me when I tell you my survival instinct

is strong. I’m not a dreamer. I’m a planner. I think this is really something.”

“All right. Explain it to me.”

“That’s what I’ve been doing.”

She reached into a bag she had slung over her shoulder and pulled out a binder. It was black and plain, with no adornment.

His sister-in-law Rue was fond of binders. But hers were always floral. With decorative stickers for whimsy. The only thing

ornate about Sheena was the tattoo.

“This is quite a bit,” he said, opening up the binder and finding inside photos of different axe-throwing facilities. A proposed

menu, projected expenses.

“I thought it best to be thorough. You told me that you owed me. That was why you gave me the poker chip. You said that all

I had to do was cash in. That’s what I aim to do. But further to that, I think it can be something that benefits both of us.”

“Why don’t you show me what you’ve got.”

“Excuse me?”

“I’ll tell you what. Let’s go throw some hatchets. And I’ll see what I think.”

***

Sheena hadn’t expected this to be easy . Denver King set himself up as being some kind of savior, but she had never seen it in that way. To her mind, letting Denver King near her property was a lot like letting a wolf offer protection.

They could protect you. But they could also decide to turn around and eat you. She wasn’t a fool. She didn’t buy into this whole idea