Chapter 23

twenty-three

. . .

Cross

" S o that's the new head honcho, huh?" Brett Ransom said as he took up space next to me, whiskey on his breath and the lingering scent of a cigar on his suit.

"Yep." I didn't bother looking up as I scrawled an obscene amount of money beside River's name on the silent auction bid. If she thought she was going to make me miserable, she was wrong.

Two can play that game, sparrow.

Pleased with myself, I picked up my whiskey.

"She giving you boys trouble?"

"Yep."

I knocked back my drink and caught the eye of a passing cocktail waitress. I didn't have to say a damn thing. She snatched my glass and gave me a saucy wink. I'd have a new one in minutes.

"At least she's easy on the eyes. It can't be all bad if you have a pretty little thing like her traipsing around the ranch."

My jaw clamped tight as I bit back the threat on the tip of my tongue. "Wouldn't know. I don't do any looking."

"Well, that's a damn shame. Woman like that deserves to be appreciated." Calculating eyes slid my way. "That mean she's available?"

"No," Walker answered as he joined us. "Definitely not. She's off-limits."

Brett smirked. "I see."

You don't see shit, you rodeo clown.

"That's interesting."

I followed his gaze to where River was being escorted outside by Bishop, the cowboy's hand resting just over the swell of her ass.

He continued spouting his shit. "Seems to me she's only got eyes for your ranch hand. I woulda thought one of you boys'd stake a claim by now. Mighty risky to let her get away. You never know who might come sniffing around. But I suppose it's better one of your own than..."

My blood ran cold as Bishop and River passed, and beyond them, I caught sight of Dominik Volkov, staring her down like a hungry shark. The Russian boss was seated in the corner, of course, worried someone was gonna shoot him in the back. I didn't blame him. I would if I could.

"He's got her in his sights, Cross. Everyone knows she's holding you both by your balls. I'd tread carefully if I were you."

"You don't know shit, Ransom."

His eyebrows lifted over amused brown eyes. "I know that man has a reputation with the ladies. He won't hesitate to wine and dine your girl if he thinks it will get one up on you. A woman like her, with the power and money she now possesses? That's a prize, gentlemen. You should do something to ensure you're the ones who win it." He gave us a silent cheers and finished his drink. "Now if you'll excuse me, I need to see about finding a prize of my own."

"You think he's right?" Walker asked, taking Ransom's spot next to me. "Is Dom seducing our girl a real threat?"

I wanted to say no, but I sure as shit hadn't given her reason to stay away from other men. I'd practically thrown her at them. "I wouldn't put it past him. Ransom didn't say it, but it was pretty damn clear. All Volkov has to do is sweep her off her feet and marry her. Then he'll take everything we have. We won't have to worry about her leaving and Cross Industries going up for auction. He'll fuck us over while he's fucking her."

Walker went uncharacteristically silent, his attention trained on the table where Dom sat. We both knew everything I'd said was true. Subterfuge was much less messy than an out-and-out war. And Dom hadn't become the boss by making stupid moves. If he could weasel his way into River's heart, we'd be fucked in more ways than one. The idea of her with him made my skin crawl.

In a lot of ways, he and I were the same. At least on paper. He was rich. He was good-looking, that blond hair and icy blue stare always getting him attention from the ladies. Motherfucker could be charming when he wanted to be. Having an accent didn't hurt; that always seemed to make women melt. Add to that the fact he was under forty, had inherited his uncle's empire, and had the brains and ruthlessness to double it in two years, and the man was a catch for any woman. What they didn't see was the reality behind the facade. His hands were soaked in the blood of countless victims, and his empire was built on a mountain of their corpses.

Fuck.

As if he knew my thoughts, Dom glanced across the ballroom and locked eyes with me. His mouth curled up in a threatening grin as he raised his glass in a mock toast.

The man stood, drink in hand, focus now trained in the direction River'd gone before he followed.

She'll be okay. She's with Bishop. He won't let anything happen to her.

Even though I told myself Bishop would keep her safe, I couldn't shake the feeling I was wrong. Volkov had already made it clear he was coming for me, and he was a cutthroat and devious monster. Once he set his sights on something, there was no stopping him. He wasn't exactly the kind of guy to follow a moral code. Not even a skewed one.

For the first time I could remember, icy fear worked its way into my veins.

River may never be mine, but I'd be damned before I'd let that Russian bastard try and take her from me.

He'd use her up and throw her away once he got what he wanted.

"Don't worry, brother. He's not going to touch her. I'll make sure of it." Walker's voice was cold and calculated. Right now he wasn't my carefree, reckless little brother. He was a soldier preparing his battle strategy.

"How do you plan to do that?"

"Fucker can't marry her if I do it first."

That made my heart lurch. Walker wanted to marry River? Why did the thought twist my stomach into a knot?

"She'll never agree to that."

"I think you underestimate the power of a good grovel."

"I think you underestimate her ability to hold a grudge."

Walker snorted. "That's where you and I are wildly different, Cross. I'm not afraid to let her put me on my knees. Give me some credit. The good lord didn't bless me with these looks for nothing. I'll have a fiancée and be working on an heir inside a week."

"You're fucking deluded."

"No. I'm fucking in love."