Part 1 | Chapter One

Part 1

Chapter One

" H ank, God damnit," bellowed Sterling Sweeney. "Get your ass in my office."

Lucy, Hank's mom, cast her son a frantic wave to obey his father. Every fiber in his body wanted to walk out and close the door to Glacier Crest Ranch.

His dad ruled everything as far as the eye could see.

He shook his head as he marched past his mom. He thunked his boots against the hardwood floor on the second story of the lodge that the town folks called Sweeney mansion. Not an hour after he'd beat Denny Geone's Trans Am with his Camaro on the River Front Road, the fucking loser had run to his daddy, whining about losing his title.

Hank stepped inside his dad's office. The musty smell of cigar smoke permeated the walls, the leather furniture, and the curtains covering the floor-to-ceiling windows. The smell nauseated him.

He only stepped into his father's office if he'd gotten in trouble, and his dad wanted to hand out his punishment.

Rarely had his dad called him there to congratulate him or give him a bigger allowance for all the shit he was required to do for the family .

His dad poured whiskey into a tumbler and glared at Hank. "Give me the Geone boy's title to his car."

He stiffened his spine. As long as he was alive, his dad always drank four fingers of whiskey in two swallows when his temper brewed.

"Denny knew the deal. I won fair and square." He widened his stance. "You can tell his dad to fuck—"

"God damnit, give me the title, or I'll drag your ass down there, and you can hand it back yourself." His dad slammed his empty tumbler on the desk in a show of temper he only released on Hank.

Hank slipped his hand into his back pocket, retrieved the folded piece of paper with the rights to the Trans Am, and flung the vehicle title on the desk. He then stormed out of the office. It was useless to argue against Sterling Sweeney unless he wanted to sport a black eye or broken ribs tomorrow. His dad had a heavy hand, and despite being sixteen years old, Hank couldn't stop his old man from bringing the wrath down on him.

His mother reached for him. He stepped out of the way, avoiding her touch, and pushed through the front door. Outside, the wrap-around porch sheltered him from the afternoon sun.

Not stopping, he jumped over the steps and landed on the pebbled path. He planned to move out as soon as he turned eighteen.

He'd need to go far away to escape his dad's control. Sterling Sweeney had more men than Hank could count watching everything that happened in Whitefish, Montana.

"Hank, come back," called his mother.

In dismissal, he waved his arm above his head and kept walking toward the two-story garage. If it weren't for his father, his mother would be happy. She'd find an interest away from the ranch. As it was, each year, she grew quieter and cut herself off from everyone she knew. All because his dad humiliated her in front of everyone.

It was common knowledge that Maria, the woman who lived in the cottage behind the house with her daughter and cooked and cleaned for his family, was his father's whore. The only person who never said anything about him having an affair was his mom.

He walked through the garage door and grabbed the push broom. Raising the handle over his head, he ran toward one of his dad's collector cars, a Ford Galaxie. All his anger was bottled in his chest, ready for release.

Jade rode her bicycle in front of him and stopped. "What are you doing?"

Maria's young daughter was always running around the ranch. At her age, someone should watch her better. She could get hurt.

"Get outside." He gritted his teeth. "Go."

His dad set strict rules so she would not leave the backyard and the asphalt pad on the side of the horse barn. A working ranch had too many dangers for a little girl if she wandered too far into trouble.

At six years old, Jade had more guts than most people had around his dad. For some reason, his dad had a softness for the girl. She never feared punishment because the worst she'd ever received was a scolding.

Jade got off her bike. "I can help you clean the garage."

"What?" He glanced at her.

She pointed above his head. He lowered the broom and dropped it on the concrete floor. All the steam went out of him.

"You better go back to the cottage before your mom finds you over here." He thrust his hands into his hair. "Or my dad catches you."

"I'll hide." She grabbed his hand. "I'm small. I can show you where you can hide."

He exhaled harshly and walked away, shaking his arm to dislodge her. But she held on tight.

"Do you want to play?" she asked.

"No."

"What are you going to do?"

"Nothing." He stopped beside his dirt bike.

"Can I go on a ride with you?"

"No."

"Please?"

He grabbed the handlebar and lifted the bike off the stand. "No, Jade. Go away before you get in trouble."

Rolling the bike backward, he turned the front wheel. He reached down on the left side, flipped the kickstart, and planted his foot on the lever.

"Where are you going?" Jade planted her hands on her waist. "When are you coming back?"

She was nosier than his mom, always wanting to know where he was every minute of the day. He shifted his weight, putting everything he had into starting the bike, and gave it some throttle. The two-cycle engine sputtered to life, cutting off Jade's next question .

He lifted his chin, urging her again to leave before she got in trouble. Her little bottom lip stuck out, and she walked toward her bicycle. He gave the dirt bike some throttle and rode toward the door.

Caught up with Jade pestering him, he hadn't seen his dad follow him out to the garage until the broom he'd left on the floor was thrust into the spokes of the front wheel of his dirt bike. The sudden stop threw him against the handlebar. He toppled off the motorcycle, sprawling on the concrete.

The broken wood handle rolled toward him. He grabbed the stick, jumped to his feet, and prepared to defend himself. But his father, yielding the rest of the handle, came ready to fight.

Hank jerked back, but the fragmented stick caught his cheek, cutting a hot streak across half his face. Stumbling, he dropped the only thing he had as a weapon and balled his fists.

"No bike. No car." His father threw the stick behind him. "Not until you learn to listen to me, boy."

His jaw ached, but he refused to unclench his teeth. He'd only anger him more if he pushed his dad too far. While he'd never seen his old man lift his hand on his mother, it wasn't a chance he'd take.

"Clean up the mess while I go deal with your shit." His dad walked over to the Jaguar, slid into the driver's seat, and drove out of the garage.

Shaking with rage, Hank stared out the door long after the car was out of sight. One day, he'd kill the son of a bitch who fathered him.

Soft sniffles broke through the haze. He closed his eyes an extra beat, knowing he'd turn around and find Jade. It was bad enough to have someone else witness his father's abuse. But the child should've been home, safe, and protected.

Darkness hung over the Sweeney Ranch. Amidst the greed, corruption, and danger, a spot of sunshine floated around with the innocence of a baby.

But Jade was growing up. She had eyes.

Someday, all the evil would touch her. If it hadn't already.

He turned around and walked to the back of the garage. Jade ran out from behind a car and threw her arms around his waist. He held the back of her head.

"Come on." He nudged her toward the door. "I'll walk you back to the cottage."

She looked at him as she walked, clinging to his hand. "You're bleeding."

"I'll be fine."

Tears continued to roll down Jade's cheeks. "He's your dad. Dads aren't supposed to hit their kids. Why is he so mean to you?"

"He's mean to everyone," he muttered, striding across the grass.

"But—"

He stopped and kneeled in front of her. "I don't care if he's nice to you, Jade. You can't trust him. Do you hear me?"

She nodded.

Her cheeks remained wet from her tears. He hardened himself against the fear radiating off her. Jade would need to toughen up to live on Glacier Crest Ranch or she'd never survive.