Chapter 50

Levi and Wiley return about an hour later. We don’t talk about it. I watch as Levi goes right to sleep, as if he didn’t just drag a body into the wilderness to be eaten by coyotes. His soft snores echo strangely in my ears. Dakota isn’t too far behind him, leaving only Wiley and me up. I can’t sleep, the image of the dead man in my mind. I can still feel the blood splatters on my face despite scrubbing the crap out of it when Levi and Wiley were gone.

Across the now small campfire, Wiley’s eyes meet mine. He must sense my unease because he stands from where he sits and makes his way over to my tent. Dakota had moved the tent closer to the fire to where my opening is now facing the flames so I can feel some of its warmth. When he gestures for me to move back, he takes a seat cross-legged in my tent and pulls my head down on his lap. After a while with his fingers stroking through my hair, I eventually fall asleep.

Day eight rolls around and when I wake, things feel. . . different. The atmosphere is more somber. No one bothers us. No one shows up on the road.

A few of the other ranchers come over and ask if the mountain lion managed to get ahold of any of the cattle. At Dakota’s reassurance that we scared it off, they nodded in understanding, thanked him for his efforts, and returned to their places.

Dakota lies to every one of them with ease, as if he’s done it before. I watch his performance closely, taking note of just how easy this is for him. Levi and Wiley are equally as unaffected. I never noticed it when I first came to Steele Mountain, mistaking the way Dakota carries himself as a stoic demeanor. Now, it looks more like a coiled predator. Like the very mountain lion he lies about.

How had I missed it before?

Today’s ride is quiet. There’s no music playing from Levi’s speaker. The only sounds seem to come from the cattle themselves, the whistles from the cowboys, and the sounds of our horses walking. Every now and then there’s a random bark from a cattle dog when a cow strays too far from the herd, but that’s it.

I’m unsure what to say to them all, unsure how to approach the subject. They all seem so sure of themselves. There’d been no hesitation at the sight of the dead body. There’d been no hesitation to lie. There’s been not one hesitation to dispose of a freaking body. I feel like those facts should be freaking me out more than anything else. I’d run here trying to escape bad people. Despite what I know of these three, have I misjudged them and found myself with more bad people? Wiley told me his story, and I don’t think that makes him bad. But the others? They’ve yet to tell me their stories.

Still, there’re too many ears around to ask throughout the day. So, I ride in silence until dusk comes and the trailers arrive. Once everyone is settled down and most of the cowhands have left, I broach the subject.

“So. . .” I say as we settle around the fire to our meals. Tonight’s dinner is hamburger steak, mashed potatoes, and green beans. Naomi even made sure I had two rolls instead of one. That woman knows my bread weakness. “Anyone wanna tell me?”

“Tell you what?” Dakota asks. His gaze is steady and unworried, as if he expected this conversation.

I gesture to the mountains. “Oh, I don’t know. Why you’re all so comfortable with killing a man and dragging his body out into a pasture for the buzzards. Seems like there’s a story there, yeah?”

Dakota doesn’t speak, but his eyes stay on me. The steel blue of his eyes would be unsettling if I didn’t want answers. As it is, I don’t look away. I’m tired of the lack of information for my own good. This is my life, dammit, and I deserve to know who the men are claiming to protect me. It’s time they tell me.

“You sure you wanna hear it?”

I glance at Levi in surprise. Of the three, I didn’t think it would be him who tells me the story. He’s usually more tightlipped than Dakota.

“Of course I’m sure. It’s past time for someone to speak,” I say, leveling my eyes on him. “So, let’s hear it.”

“You sure you’re ready?” Dakota asks again, and when I turn to repeat my words, I realize he’s not talking to me.

He’s talking to Levi.

“Yeah. I’m ready. She needs to know,” Levi tells him before he turns back to me. He has a guitar sitting next to him, but he hasn’t played it tonight yet. I assume I won’t hear it tonight at all, not when we’re about to talk about such heavy subjects. He sighs. “My mom died when I was young and I was an only child,” Levi begins. “My dad raised me. Kind of.”

Wiley grimaces. “Raised is a generous word for it.”

Levi shakes his head. “Wiley’s right. He gave me a roof over my head and some food every now and then, but that’s about it. He wasn’t exactly a fatherly figure if you know what I mean.”

I tilt my head. “So he was neglectful?”

“More than that,” Wiley murmurs. “The bastard was abusive.”

Levi looks away, refusing to look into my eyes. “I don’t want to get into the full details of it, but yeah. He fucked me up. If I wasn’t being beat up, I was. . . his friends were fond of me. Let’s leave it at that.”

I blink in surprise and horror. “What?”

Levi’s eyes stay level on the dark mountains in the distance. “He went a little far one night. I’d called Wiley and Dakota to hang out because my dad had been drinkin’. He was always drinkin’ and I preferred to be out of the house before he got too bad. I was a little late that day, and he wailed into me.” Another heavy sigh. “I wasn’t nearly so big as a kid, but my height came from him. He was a big bastard, and I wasn’t strong enough to fight him, even after all the years trying to be. Wiley and Dakota—” His words choke off and I move from my place by the fire to take a seat next to him. I wrap my arm around his waist and he loops his own arm around my shoulders and leans heavily into my side, needing the comfort. When he tucks his head against my neck, I hold him tighter. When I feel the slight shake of his shoulders, I stroke his back, trying to offer comfort for a past I can’t truly heal.

“Wiley?” Levi murmurs. A request.

Wiley nods. “Dakota and I showed up just as Levi collapsed and. . . that sick bastard was pulling his belt off.” His words are angry. I’ve never seen such anger in Wiley’s eyes, but I understand where it comes from.

“Where’s he at now?” I rasp, holding onto Levi.

“Dead,” Dakota answers, his eyes on the fire. “Buried in the dirt where he belongs.”

“We killed him,” Wiley clarifies, the only one of the three willing to meet my eyes. “Dakota and I saw what was happening, and we lost control. We both attacked. We were just kids then and Levi’s dad was a big motherfucker. He got in some good hits even drunk.” He points to the bump in his nose. “He got this hit in. Fucked up my nose for a while, but the bastard didn’t plan on Dakota being strapped.”

I glance at Dakota. “You had a gun.”

Dakota’s eyes flash. “I did.”

“When the bastard turned his attention to me and started pummeling me, Dakota did the only thing he could to get him off me. He pulled the trigger.”

Dakota cleared his throat. “I missed the first time. He’d landed a blow to my head, and I was seeing double. It’s a wonder I didn’t shoot Wiley instead.”

“The second shot hit him in the back,” Wiley explained. “Knocked his ass out real quick like. The third and fourth in his head were for good measure.” He pauses and looks at me. “The. . .castration was for Levi.” He glances at his friend, sadness in his eyes. “And then we called the police.”

My brows raise. That wasn’t where I thought this was going. “What did the police do?”

“We were all taken down to the jail, but there wasn’t any arguing how bad of shape Levi was in. Still, his daddy was one of those narcissists. Lots of people didn’t believe he was as bad as we claimed, and though the judge ruled it all self-defense, there were a whole lot of people who didn’t like that. He’d made friends everywhere, especially in the police force. We became targets for them, so we made a choice.”

“Lay low,” Levi grunts. “I left and focused on bull riding. And Wiley joined the Army.”

I glance at Dakota. “And you?”

“I couldn’t leave,” he offers slowly. “The ranch needed me.”

I nod, understanding. None of that makes them bad people. That was very clearly warranted, but the way they explain things makes it seem like this was only the first instance of trouble.

“And the. . .friends?” I ask softly, glancing at Levi.

None of them speak, not at first. In the end, it’s Wiley who answers and he doesn’t flinch as he speaks. “After I came back from the Army, a series of. . .unfortunate events befell them, if you know what I mean.”

“Ain’t a one of those bastards still living,” Levi breaths. “They don’t deserve to be.”

Pride fills me for what’s essentially murder. But goddamn if it wasn’t warranted. Any person preying on children. . . I can’t even imagine the trauma Levi had to face and then for him to face even more with his bull riding accident. His gruff demeanor makes so much more sense now.

I level my gaze on Dakota. “Your first rodeo,” I say, watching him closely. He’s smiling, smirking almost, as if this is all a game. “So what was your second?”

His smile falls. “You ain’t ready to hear that yet.”

“Look at you thinking you know what’s best for me. I’m not that kind of woman,” I point out.

“I know,” he answers, nodding.

“Then what’s the problem?” I growl.

My arms are still wrapped around Levi, and he accepts my comfort. He needs it and I’m happy to give it. I won’t be leaving his side until he asks me to.

“I am,” Dakota admits. “I’m the problem. I don’t want the way you look at me to change.”

I blink. “And how do I look at you now?”

He straightens. “Like I lassoed the moon and gave it to you,” he murmurs. “Silly thing is, I’d do it, too. I’d drop the world into darkness just to see you smile.”

I lose my breath at his words, my heart throbbing painfully in my chest. That’s one of the most romantic things I’ve ever heard, and it came out of Dakota fucking Steele’s mouth.

“And your secrets could change that?” I ask, worried about what it is he could tell me. How bad is it?

Dakota doesn’t blink. His eyes flicker with something I don’t understand, but he remains calm and collected. “Maybe,” he whispers.

The worry I’d slowly been working through returns tenfold.