Page 53 of The Wrong Ride Home (Wildflower Canyon #1)

duke

K az was a master of saying a lot without saying a Goddamn thing.

He sat across from me on the ranch house porch, sprawled in one of the Adirondack chairs, like he had nowhere to be and all the time in the world, with a look on his face that said he already knew the ending to a story you hadn’t even started reading.

"Funny thing about bullets," Kaz mused, rolling a whiskey glass between his fingers. "They don’t always hit the person they were meant for."

“Yeah, I’ve been hearing the same thing.”

“How’s Elena?”

“Infuriating! Honest to God, I’ve been tempted to knock her the fuck out. She thinks she can get right back on the horse, literally, after a week of being shot.” I set my glass of whiskey down on the arm of my chair with some force.

At least she was sleeping now. She didn’t have much energy, and she went down right after dinner. I stayed with her, holding her, while she talked about which horse needed what. I listened, telling her that between Ben, me, and the others, it was all taken care of.

“You increased security around here,” Kaz remarked.

I nodded. We had.

Cameras went up first—high-definition, motion-activated, infrared for night coverage. Not that they covered everything. On a hundred-thousand-acre ranch, that was damn near impossible, but we placed them at every entrance, along the main roads, near the bunkhouses, barns, and paddocks.

Next came patrols. Hunt had the hands riding the fence lines in pairs, looking for anything out of place. The gates were checked twice a day, and if someone so much as cut through the wire, we’d know.

We reinforced the ranch house, bunkhouses, and barns, installing new locks and floodlights—simple fixes.

No one got onto the property without someone knowing. Guests had to be cleared first. Deliveries were checked. Strangers didn’t get past the front gate without a damn good reason.

I even had Ben and a few of the hands carrying—not all of them, just the ones who were comfortable with it. And I kept my own .45 Colt within arm’s reach.

Was it enough? Probably not. But it was a hell of a lot more than we had before.

I let out a tired breath. “You got something to say, Kaz, or just feel like talking in riddles today?”

Kaz smirked, the kind that could get a man punched, especially since my patience was running thinner than a cheap saddle on a long ride. He set his glass down, tapping one long finger against the table. "Might wanna think about who stands to gain from you being six feet under."

“You think I haven’t?”

Kaz grinned like I’d passed some kind of test. "Good.” He pushed back from the table, standing with an easy stretch. "Keep your head on a swivel, Duke. Would be a shame if all this was for nothing."

On that happy note, he left, and I realized he had told me absolutely nothing, but he had given me food for thought.

After making sure Elena was still asleep and giving Itzel strict instructions to call me if she so much as whimpered, I walked to Hunt’s cabin.

It was tucked back in a stand of ponderosa pines.

It was a solid, well-built place—not flashy, just comfortable and lived-in: wide wraparound porch, firewood neatly piled against the railing, and a pair of rocking chairs that had seen their fair share of late-night conversations.

Inside, it smelled like cedar, old leather, and faint traces of coffee. The open floor plan made it easy to see everything—a sturdy wooden dining table, a stone fireplace, and a well-worn couch that looked as comfortable as hell. Everything had its place, no clutter, no nonsense—just like Hunt.

I dropped the bottle of whiskey onto the kitchen counter with a dull thud.

Hunt settled against the counter, arms crossed, boots planted like he was bracing for some bad news. “Bad news?”

“More like confirmation.” I grabbed two glasses from the cupboard and generously poured each of us two fingers.

“You think it’s Piper?”

“Who the hell else?”

We clinked our glasses and drank some of the amber liquid. “How’s Kaz involved in all of this?”

“It’s a feeling, I got no proof, but I think he’s law enforcement of some kind.”

Hunt looked at me like I had lost my mind. “Kaz does land deals.”

“I think it’s a cover.”

The way he acted, the way he carried himself, the way he’d inserted himself into Piper’s business when he didn’t seem to like her one bit, and how he helped me, told me that Kaz wasn’t who he said he was.

“I don’t see it, but let’s say it’s true. He helping you or hurting you?”

“Helping me…and using me as well. I think he’s investigating Piper Novak, and her interest in me made me interesting to him. Then I decided not to sell, in large part thanks to his interference, and now Piper is out for blood.” I took a long sip of the amber liquid. “This is all conjecture.”

Hunt raised both eyebrows. “I don’t know what that word means, bossman. You gotta stop using them ten-dollar words around cowboys like me.”

“You done?” I said dryly .

He grinned. “Yeah…for now. If he is warning you, and he is who you say he is, he must have a good reason.”

“Yeah,” I muttered, rolling the glass of whiskey between my hands. “That’s what’s bothering me.”

We grabbed our glasses and the bottle, then headed outside to the porch.

“I didn’t even realize it, but I missed this place,” I murmured, settling into a well-worn chair, stretching my legs out, and propping my feet up on the railing.

Hunt took a slow sip, then set his glass down. “Probably missed the woman more.”

As soon as I thought about Elena, I smiled. “Yeah, definitely.”

“She’s happy. First time…since you left, I see her happy.”

For a moment, I considered bringing up what had happened with Elena and our baby, but instead, I swallowed it down. Right now, all that mattered was that Hunt had saved her life—and for that, I owed him more than I could ever repay. “Thank you for taking care of her.”

He nodded. “She’s like a sister.”

“I know.”

“The baby was yours.” He wasn’t asking.

“Yeah.” The sorrow still sat heavy in my chest. “It hurts…and I don’t know why ‘cause I didn’t know the baby. She was only ten weeks pregnant. But the loss still hurts like a motherfucker.”

Hunt patted my shoulder. “It’s supposed to feel this way to lose a child unless you’re a sociopath. ”

“Is that Gloria you’re talkin’ about?” I asked, amused.

I’d told Hunt about what went down with my mother. He had been shocked because he’d seen what I had, a fragile woman who seemed to be lost all the time—not the malicious bitch I’d uncovered her to be.

“Just sayin’ that most people love their children, if they didn’t, we wouldn’t survive as a species. So, you hurting was inevitable. You just found out; the wound is fresh.”

I drank some more. “How bad was it?”

“Pretty bad. Physically, she got better quickly. Emotionally…I’d say she started healing when you came back. She saw you with Fiona, and I think it struck her that it was time for her to move on and live her life.”

He spoke softly, but I felt like he’d screamed the words: Time for her to move on and live her life .

“I liked Maria, but she did a number on Elena,” he continued. “I loved Nash, but he wasn’t fair to her.”

“He was scared that if he let the world see he loved her, he’d never get me back.” That was another regret I was getting used to living with.

“I’m glad you’re moving forward. She needs it desperately, but I get the feeling so do you.” Hunt then chuckled. “Let’s hope you get to move forward together without one of you gettin’ shot.”

Cowboys would fucking joke about anything.

Hunt became serious then and added, “Elena is not fragile or weak, she’s the strongest person I know.”

Her strength became clearly apparent to me two days later when I got to the ranch house, only to hear voices .

One of them was Elena’s. The other? Fuck!

I moved fast, taking the steps two at a time, my chest tight, my fists clenched. I stopped when I saw Elena sitting on the couch, calm as hell, while my mother stood over her, practically vibrating with fury.

"You think you can just waltz in and take what isn’t yours?" Mama spat, her face red, tears welling in her eyes like she was the injured party.

Elena, to her credit, looked utterly unimpressed. I was about to step in and put a stop to it when I heard her say, “Gloria, cut the crap and get the fuck outta here.”

Gloria scoffed a sharp, ugly sound. "Don’t lie to me, girl. You’ve been after my son since you were a teenager."

Elena’s nostrils flared, the only indication she was angry. But her voice stayed level, controlled. "I think we both know who’s been after Duke his whole life.”

Gloria gasped.

I nearly laughed. My girl knew how to handle herself. She didn’t need me playing white knight.

"How dare you," Gloria hissed, her hands clenched into fists at her sides.

"How dare I what?" Elena tilted her head, her expression bordering on boredom. "Point out that you’ve been pulling his strings since the day he was born?"

"Don’t you talk about things you don’t understand!" Gloria’s voice wavered, the telltale sign of an emotional breakdown on its way.

Elena didn’t flinch. "Who inherits Wilder Ranch if Duke dies?"

Gloria froze. Something dark and awful curled in my gut. I had wondered, but….

“What’s that got to do with anything?” Gloria snapped. She straightened and took a step away.

“You inherit everything. I checked with Mac ‘cause that’s what’s in Duke’s will,” Elena continued as if Gloria hadn’t spoken. “Do you know someone tried to kill Duke?”

“I heard someone tried to kill you ,” she snarled in response.

“Duke, honey, you want to come in?” Elena said in a saccharine sweet voice that told me she was pissed as hell. She never called me honey.

“Baby.” Gloria ran up to me, but before she could hug me, I caught her wrists and set her away.

“What the fuck are you doin’ here?” I asked coolly. I sat next to Elena and gently kissed the side of her temple, making a statement to my mother.

“You’re with her?” Gloria was breathing fire now.