Chapter 15

fifteen

. . .

Cross

S taring out over the lush green pasture in front of the lodge, I let Bishop's words wash over me for the millionth time. I'd been up all night trying to figure out who it could be.

A snake in the grass at Twisted Cross Ranch was the last thing I'd expected.

Call me na?ve, but these people were more than ranch hands. They were family. Most of them had been with us for years. Hell, Tex took over after his father died. It wasn't just the family business for us. It was true for most of them as well.

No one at the ranch would betray us. Would they?

They sure as shit wouldn't have if Senior was still alive. But he's not. Which put the blame squarely on my shoulders.

Three cowboys rode by on their way from one pasture to another. One gave me a wave, and I simply raised my coffee cup from my place on the front porch in response. Was he the traitor? Jesus, I was getting paranoid. But all my life, I'd known I would be the one who kept this place going. I'd been trained to take on my daddy's mantle. And fuck, I wanted it.

Now, though? I seemed to be flushing everything my family had worked for, stolen, bled, and died to have, right down the drain. All I'd ever known was that I'd be his successor.

And I was failing.

No wonder he had River in his back pocket.

I couldn't help but wonder how'd he know she'd do a better job than me when she'd been sent away and had absolutely no idea what the job entailed. Had he been keeping tabs on her? Seemed like the kind of thing he would do.

Maybe that's why it stung so bad. He knew she'd go into this blind, and still he made the call.

The weight of the last few weeks was crushing me. Between her return, my father's death, the multiple attacks on my brother's life, and now this... I was losing my goddamn mind. Nothing was making any fucking sense.

"You won't get yourself any answers by sitting on your ass and whining about it," I muttered to myself.

Trouble was, I didn't know where to start. Without a name, I couldn't exactly do anything. And going after Dominik without a fleshed-out plan was a suicide mission. The only thing in my life I could actually work on right now was my relationship with River. And even that was a damn minefield.

She was guarded when it came to me, with good fucking reason. I'd done plenty of damage, especially after she came back. But the other night in my shower was a start. That was the most playful she'd been with me. Hell, it was the most conversation the two of us had shared without her nearly slapping me. If I'd had it my way, I would've torn those little leggings off her and fucked her against the shower wall until she forgot anyone else existed.

She made me crazy.

The worst part was she knew exactly what she could do to me.

Maybe I should text her. I let that tempting thought roll through my mind.

She was probably with Walker, tending to him and being sugar sweet. I never got that side of her, except for the first time we'd been together. Now it was fire and sass. If I was being honest, I fucking loved how she made me work for every inch with her. It was going to make winning her over that much sweeter. I wanted it all, though. Every single piece of her.

Too bad that would never happen. She'd already made it damn clear that parts of her belonged to someone else. Multiple someones.

"Speak of the devil," I muttered, sipping my coffee as Bishop drove up the drive.

He got out of the truck and slammed the door, his eyes ringed with dark circles. I would have felt bad, but I was paying him handsomely to do the job.

"Cross," he growled. "You're looking bright-eyed and bushy-tailed this morning."

"And you look like death."

"Feel like it too," he said, walking up to join me. "Next time, you can be the one living in the cab of his Ford. I'll stay here in the mansion with the pretty girl."

I wondered if he knew she'd made herself come for me. If he was as jealous as I'd been when I'd found her on her knees for him.

"You do remember that the pretty girl is my wife, right?"

"Yup. You're welcome, by the way."

"For what?"

He snorted. "Didn't you wonder why she was suddenly so amiable about being shackled to you? Why she didn't end up filing those divorce papers? I'm the one who told her to stay married to you. So I repeat, you're welcome."

I narrowed my eyes at him. "Why would you do that? What's in it for you?"

A slight shrug lifted his shoulders. "Her."

"How is being my wife going to get her for you?"

"I'd much rather she stay alive. And once she's out of danger and ready, she'll leave you and come to me."

Over my dead body.

I didn't say that though, instead I just raised a brow. "You think so, huh?"

"I know so."

"Don't count your chickens, Bishop."

I took a long drink of my coffee, even though it had gone cold, and pretended his words hadn't rattled me. There were a lot of ways our future could play out, but in every scenario I'd entertained, she ended up with me. A wife in more than name. A wife who loved me and wanted to be here. The one who'd been stolen from me by circumstances we couldn't control. Because I had no doubt if things had been different ten years ago, that's what she'd be now.

And I wouldn't have had to share her either.

I didn't realize I'd growled into my coffee cup until Bishop snickered.

"Fuck off. You smell like shit."

"Wow. Going for the low-hanging fruit, huh? We work with horses and cattle. Everyone on this ranch smells like shit. Daily."

"Yeah, well, you're offending my delicate sensibilities."

He laughed, and for some reason it made me hate him a little less. "What's the saying? All hat no cattle? I understand it so much better now."

Hearing him use my father's favorite expression—even if it was to take a jab—made me grin. This back and forth felt familiar. A little slice of normal amidst the chaos. I couldn't help but welcome it.

"Just because I don't get out there like I used to doesn't mean I can't ride circles around you, Bishop."

"Is that a challenge?"

"Name the day and time."

Bishop's lips twisted up in amusement, his teeth flashing. It might have been the first time I'd ever seen him smile. That was a weird thing to notice, but up until recently, our interactions had been pretty limited, and he'd always been a surly motherfucker. I guess watching my wife suck his dick changed things—even more than him saving my brother's life had.

Fuck. We were going to have to be friends, weren't we?

I was about to lob another challenge his way, this one involving who could get River off the hardest, when the rumble of an engine caught my ear.

Bishop tensed beside me. "You expecting company?"

"Nope."

We both reached for our weapons. His in a shoulder holster at his side. Mine at my hip. Neither of us drew right away, but both of us were ready.

The Harley Fat Boy didn't look custom, but the man rolling up on it seemed right at home. He came right for us, coming to a stop almost directly in front of the steps leading to the front door. Cutting the engine, he stood, removed his helmet, and then turned to look at us.

The man was easily six five, maybe taller, with a burly beard and dark hair pulled back in a messy bun at the base of his skull. It would look feminine on anyone else. On him, it just added to his intensity. His leather jacket and dark jeans didn't do a thing to hide the muscle on him either.

"Not another fucking step, friend. Unless you want bullet holes decorating that jacket of yours," I said, drawing my gun and taking aim.

"Is this what they refer to as southern hospitality?" The deep rumble of his voice was low and confident. Not a trace of tension or fear could be found in the question. It told me a whole helluva lot about him. The man had stared down the business end of a barrel before. More than once, if I had to guess.

"We don't take kindly to strangers appearing on our doorstep uninvited."

"Who says I wasn't invited?"

He took a step toward us, and I cocked my gun.

"That's close enough."

"Jonah!"

River's excited exclamation caught me off guard.

"You made it!"

She flew through the front door and would have continued down the steps if Bishop hadn't caught her by the wrist and pulled her back.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing, siren? You do not go running in front of a loaded gun."

She glanced between Bishop and me, her happy expression darkening. "Put the fucking gun away, you psycho. This is my friend, Bear."

I'd do no such thing. "I don't care who he is, sparrow. How the fuck am I supposed to run this place with unannounced visitors showing up all the damn time?"

"I told you he was coming."

"You absolutely did not. Because I can tell you for certain, I would've said no."

Her scowl deepened. So much for whatever ground I'd thought I'd won in the shower.

"You don't run this place anymore, remember? This is my house. Which means I can invite whoever the fuck I want to come over. Now put. The gun. Down."

Bear chuckled, and I really wished I had a reason to shoot him. Maybe just in the kneecap so I didn't kill him. But I holstered my piece and let out a begrudging sigh.

Bishop let go of her, satisfied that she wasn't about to walk in front of a bullet, and she resumed her flight, throwing her arms around the beast of a man. He picked her up easily, her legs wrapping around his waist with a familiarity that had my fingers itching to return to my gun.

I turned my head toward Bishop, dropping my voice so only he could hear. "Who'd she say that guy was?"

His arms were crossed over his chest, expression unreadable. "That's Jonah Blake. Goes by Bear. He's the one who saved her life when she moved to Alaska."

Guilt flashed through my system. Why had she needed saving? What had happened to her after I made sure she got sent away?

"He in love with her?"

"Who isn't?" Bishop said on a laugh. "But no. He's like a brother. A big, protective, dangerous brother."

"She doesn't need more protection. We've got her taken care of."

Bishop shook his head. "Clearly she doesn't see it like that."

My brows lowered. "You saying she thinks she needs protection from us?"

His lips quirked, and he shook his head. "Not us. You ."

Sonofabitch.