Chapter 13

Lee saw the gutter and rushed for it, the heat under her feet reminding her she was standing on top of a burning building. She'd been prepared for bullets, for violence, but this wasn't something she'd expected.

She shimmied down the gutter and they were waiting. Two of them.

Hands were on her ankles before she was halfway down, too close to the ground to climb back up, too far from the ground to let go. She screamed, but the roar of the fire was growing, probably drowned her out. Then they yanked, pulling so hard that she felt her ankle dislocate.

She let go and fell in a heap at their feet. One of them scooped her up and tossed her over his shoulder like she was nothing more than a piece of a luggage. He carried her to a waiting ATV, catching her wrist in a handcuff that was already attached to the machine's frame before she could even respond. The other guy climbed on in front of her, and they were off, just the two of them, leaving his friend behind.

What was he going to do?

As they drove away, she twisted around, saw Westin on the roof of the burning bunkhouse. She screamed, tried to warn him, but there was too much noise from the fire. She hadn't even realized how loud it was until she needed to be heard.

Westin. Please, no!

They drove away from the occupied parts of the ranch, away from the main house and the barn, the guest bunkhouses and the other structures scattered across the vast landscape. She didn't realize she knew where they were until the ATV started to slow and she spotted the fence sparkling in a sliver of moonlight.

The driver cut the engine and climbed off the machine, pulling a phone from his back pocket. As he walked away from her, Lee tugged at the handcuff, testing its connection to the ATV's frame. It was on there good, wrapped around a piece of metal that was welded to the underside of the seat. And the cuff that was around her wrist was good and tight, making it impossible for her to slide her hand out no matter how long she had to try.

"We've got her," she heard the man say into his phone. "Where do you want me to take her?"

Her ankle was throbbing, a shiver rushing through her as the temperatures plunged into the subzero zone. She watched her captor, waiting for him to say something else, anything she might be able to use against him.

"They're dead," he said. "We left them in the cabin."

He was quiet a moment longer, then he disconnected the phone, clearly done with the conversation. He must have gotten his orders.

"I don't know anything," she said as he came toward her. "Will was my partner. I trusted him! I'm not going to turn on him, especially now."

"You shot him, lady."

"He pulled a gun on me."

The guy wasn't impressed with that. He simply climbed back onto the ATV and started it again. The engine roared as he gave it a little gas, then they took off again, following the fence line until they came to a small break. It was the same area where Fang had gotten onto the property when he broke into her room. It was the same place Clint had brought her the day he told her that Will wasn't to be trusted.

There was a narrow road on the other side of the fence that the driver eased the ATV onto, gunning the engine as he seemed to have found a space he was comfortable with navigating in the near pitch-darkness. A sinking feeling moved through Lee as it occurred to her that this road ran between the three hundred acres Asa Howard had won in that infamous card game and the still-existing sections of Rocking D.

She knew where he was taking her. She hated that she was right, hated what it might mean for Westin. What it meant for Miss Dulcie and everyone else on Golden Sphinx.

The road was rutted, causing her to bounce all over the wide seat. She slammed into the back of the driver several times, a part of her hoping she was hurting him. He finally reached back and grabbed her arm, pulling it around his waist so that she wouldn't move so freely. She tried to pull away, but he had a strong grip on her wrist, too strong.

She had to be smart. Save her energy.

She also needed to remember that they had failed to search her. There was still a gun tucked into the back of her jeans, if the bouncing of the ATV didn't shake it loose.

They cut to the left in a sudden, jolting turn that had them bouncing over uncut grass and drifts of snow. She held on, suddenly imagining herself falling off the machine and being dragged by her wrist where it was still handcuffed to the seat. She'd be dead quicker that way, but it wasn't really the way she wanted to go out.

A hulking building stood off in the distance, clearly the destination of her driver. As they sped toward it, the tall doors were rolled backward, lights pouring out onto the ground in front of it, an almost welcoming sight. The driver pulled right into the building—which appeared to be an abandoned barn—and stopped just a few feet from a table that had been set in the middle of the dirt-packed floor. He climbed off the machine, walking over to one of the guys who'd closed the door behind them, slapping him on the back. They spoke in quiet tones, glancing over at her from time to time, but neither seemed to be in a hurry to move her from the ATV.

Lee pulled one leg over the seat, turning so that her back was away from their line of sight. She reached back, touching the satisfying hulk of the gun under her shirt. But almost the moment she did it, someone came over and yanked the gun free.

"You won't be needing that," a deep, masculine voice informed her.

Lee turned again, taking in the vision of the man standing before her. He wasn't familiar to her, not someone she'd ever seen before. He looked to be about forty, sandy-blond hair and green eyes, a face marked by years of sun exposure. He had dimples when he smiled, something he did just then as though he were greeting her as a guest to his establishment rather than as a kidnapping victim.

"I apologize for the dramatics, but it was necessary for us to have a conversation."

"I don't know who you are."

He tucked her gun into the back of his pants much like she'd worn it, before straightening the dark jacket he wore. There was a logo on his left shoulder, a red D lying on its rounded side, hash marks around it to indicate a rocking motion. Rocking D , she assumed. The logo Westin had mentioned.

"I'm Pete James. Everyone around here calls me Petey."

She nodded. "Petey J."

One eyebrow cocked as he looked her over. "You're a smart one. Will said that you were."

"He would know. He's the one who trained me."

"Did a good job, too." He rolled his head a little as he looked at her, something almost like pity in his eyes. "He considered recruiting you to our side. Said he took your temperature a time or two, but he ultimately decided it wasn't an option." He sighed. "Too bad. You could have been a real asset."

"An asset? To what? Destroying the youth of our country?"

"I like to think of it as weeding out the weak and allowing the strong to rise to the top. Kind of like the cream in real cow's milk."

"So, you're helping society while making yourself rich?"

"It's a happy side effect."

She swung with her free hand, tried to connect with his jaw, but he easily stepped out of her reach.

"We're going to have some real fun with you," he said, that charming smile coming back before he turned and walked away.

Lee watched him join a group of about three men at the back of the old barn. She turned, trying to see who else was in there, what else was happening around her. There were four sets of doors: the massive doors they'd driven through, a person-sized door beside those, another in the far wall, and one at the back. There were windows, but they were up in the loft level and there didn't appear to be a ladder or anything that she could use to get up there. Three more men were standing by the massive doors—the driver who brought her here, and two others.

The table set up in front of her was bare of any instruments or weapons. It was just a table, probably used for packaging product when it arrived. There were hooks on the beams above her in a square around the main part of the floor, probably to hold plastic that would keep the residue from the drugs from spreading throughout the building when they worked. Drug dealers had this stuff down to a science, and it looked like this operation wasn't any better or worse than any other she'd busted in the past.

She tugged at the handcuffs again, but they weren't budging. She slid her legs back over to the other side and slipped to the floor, testing her sore ankle. Pain shot through her with just a small amount of pressure, unbearable pain. She wasn't going to be able to put weight on that ankle.

That wasn't good.

"Bring her here!"

Petey's voice reverberated around the building. She saw him wave to the men behind her. She turned just in time to find the driver approaching, a ring of keys in his hand. He undid the cuff from the ATV, but didn't bother to take the other half off her wrist. Instead, he used it to force her up onto her feet.

"I can't!" she cried when he tried to get her to stand. "My ankle!"

He frowned, glancing down. When he did, she slammed her elbow into his nose. It broke, blood immediately gushing on her, on him, sending him reeling backward as much from shock as the blow. She pushed away from the bike and tried to put her weight on that ankle, but it crumpled under her and she landed face-first on the ground.

"Fucking bitch!" a voice cried right before a foot slammed into her ribs, sending even more pain cascading through her.

"Stop!"

Petey was suddenly there, squatting beside her as he eased her over onto her back. "You okay?" he asked, looking down at the fresh splash of blood on the front of her shirt. "They hurt you?"

"My ankle," she muttered, angry with herself.

Petey turned his attention to her legs, running his hand down the length of her calf before lifting her leg to touch the ankle. She cried out when he touched a tender spot.

"Yeah, it's dislocated," he said, glancing at her. "I can pop it back into place, but it's going to hurt like a son of a bitch."

"I don't suppose it matters. Whatever you have in mind for me probably won't feel too good, either."

He nodded. "You're probably right about that." Suddenly, the worst pain she'd ever felt burst through her body as he manipulated her ankle, forcing the bone back into place. She screamed, the world growing dark around the edges. She fought it, refused to pass out, but that pain… it was almost unbearable.

"There," Petey said, turning on the balls of his feet to look at her. "All fixed."

She nodded, biting down so hard on her bottom lip she could taste blood. "Thanks."

He laughed. "Damn, look at this one! I've seen grown men pass out with something like that! You're quite the woman!"

"Thanks," she said again, reaching up to wipe tears from her eyes. "Are you impressed enough to let me go now?"

"Sorry." He sighed. "If it was up to me, I might. But it's not. Unfortunately."

"Who's it up to?"

He smiled. "Fishing for information, are we? Can't tell you that, either. Just in case."

"In case of what? You're not going to let me go—right?" She pulled herself up to a sitting position, wiping her hands on her jeans. "You big, brave boys who are weeding out the weak in society have balls so big you're not at all worried about killing a federal agent."

"It's one of those things you have to learn how to deal with when you get into this business." Petey stood and offered her a hand, all polite and gentlemanly, like they were just two people having a conversation. He pulled her up, allowed her to balance on one foot while resting most of her weight against him. "If there was a way around it, believe me, I'd do it. But there isn't. You didn't leave us much choice."

"You do realize that everything I know, I sent to my boss back in Seattle—right?"

"That's possible. It's a chance we have to take." He slipped his arm around her and began walking toward the back of the room, going slow so she could keep up. "Will assured us, however, that there was nothing on Fang's computer that would incriminate him. And you didn't have access to any other information. Just suspicion—and that doesn't hold up in a court of law."

"You're right about that. There wasn't much on Fang's computer that I could use against you and your friends. And I didn't even get all the files because he came back too soon."

"Yeah, we told him to wait until you came out of the building, but he got in a hurry."

"He had other plans for me that I doubt he told you about."

"I kind of figured that was what happened."

Lee glanced at him, wondering if this felt as odd to him as it did to her. "Just a few phone calls. And, you're right; they don't convict anyone but Fang and Will, and they're both dead now."

"Exactly."

"Will's computer, on the other hand, had a few other things on it."

By then they'd reached an arrangement of chairs at the back of the room where Petey's buddies were waiting for them. He gently sat her in one of the chairs, careful with her ankle, kind in the way he set her down. Again, it felt as though they were just a couple of friendly people, having a conversation.

Petey grabbed a chair and brought it close to hers before straddling it backward. "What were you saying? About Will's computer?"

"Did you know he was also making recordings of phone conversations? That he had surveillance pictures and snapshots of someone's customer ledger?" She tilted her head slightly. "I always thought it was kind of ridiculous that criminals write down all this information. I know you need to keep track of what's coming and going, but there's got to be a better way than writing it down, creating an evidence trail."

Petey dropped his head down, clearly thrown a little by what she'd said. "Will kept that stuff?"

"He did."

"How do you know?"

She rolled her shoulders. "Maybe he told me."

"I doubt that. He was very insistent that he hadn't told you anything. In fact, he swore to it. He didn't want you to die. He was hoping you would wrap the case in Phoenix and just walk away, but that didn't seem to be happening."

"How long was he on your payroll?"

Petey glanced at one of the men sitting just a few feet beyond them. The man shrugged. Petey turned his attention back to her and shrugged, too. "A little over a year. He approached us, said that he knew we were continuing what a friend had been doing in California. Said if we put him on the payroll, he'd protect us from future investigations by the DEA."

"That worked out well, didn't it?"

Petey sighed. "Well, the thing is, our people in Phoenix got a little ambitious and started doing things that we hadn't sanctioned. We've taken care of that—you helped by taking out Fang—so things should settle down there now. You and Will might actually get credit for it. Posthumously, but, well, you know. Credit is credit."

"It is that." She tucked a piece of hair that had come loose from her braid behind her ear. "A year ago. That would have been about the time his daughter needed an operation on her spine."

"I wouldn't know. I don't get into the personal life of my employees. I just pay them and send them on their way, unless they screw something up."

"That happen often?"

"Sometimes. Criminals can't be trusted." He laughed. "I suppose that's the nature of the beast."

Lee looked down at her ankle. It throbbed like crazy, but the pain was finally lessening. Her ribs ached more now. She took a deep breath, testing them out. Not terrible. They weren't broken, just bruised.

The question was, could she run if she got the chance? She wasn't sure.

"You should know that Will did everything he could to keep you out of this. He set it out for us at the very beginning; you weren't to be involved. And then this thing in Phoenix came up. The plan was that we were going to allow you to take down Fang, maybe a couple of his dealers. But somehow you found out about Razor, and you started digging. Will said he tried to get you on a different track, to keep you from going down that road, but you wouldn't let it go. He said you were like a dog with a bone."

"Yeah? When did he try to bring me in on it, then?"

"Weeks ago, when you stumbled on Razor. He said some things to you, hypothesized what it would be like if you just walked away from it all."

Lee bit her lip, suddenly flooded with a memory of sitting in Will's car, dressed in the sexy outfit she wore to tend bar, exhausted after a busy shift.

"Have you ever thought about giving it up, Lee? Just throwing in the towel and retiring to some beach somewhere?"

"Wouldn't that be fantastic? The only problem is, I don't look that great in a bikini."

"That's a lie. If you said that to my wife, she'd break your nose."

Lee laughed. "Yeah, she probably would."

"But, seriously, what if we just forgot about all this, forgot about these guys, let them go kill each other. You know that's what would happen if we just left them to their own devices."

"I know it seems frustrating, Will. But what we do is a good thing. We keep these people from destroying good people like your wife, my mom. We keep them from turning your kids and my little brother and sisters into drug addicts. We do good."

Will had agreed with her in the end and dropped the subject. She'd thought it was just his frustrations with the case, his guilt for not being at home, that drove the conversation. It'd happened many times, but he always came back around. At least, she'd thought he did.

She wished she could go back with what she knew now and make a better argument. She wished she'd pushed him, made him tell her the truth so that she could help him out of his predicament, maybe save his life.

"When I didn't go for his plan, he made a new plan."

"Fang was supposed to follow you from the club that night and kill you quietly at your place. But he got in a hurry, confronted you in the office."

"I got free."

"And Will called us in a panic. We told him to send you up here and we'd give Fang a second chance."

"Which he screwed up. Again."

"Idiot." Petey sighed. "Never should have invited him into this organization. He was nothing but trouble from the beginning."

Petey stood up, pulling a gun out from his waistband. He played with it, checking the clip, and then he balanced it in one hand, then the other, getting a feel for it. He was getting tired of talking.

Lee lifted her hand, the handcuffs still dangling. "Do you think you could take this off before you do whatever comes next?"

Petey gestured to one of the guys behind him. The man came over, digging in his pocket as he walked, finally pulling out a ring of keys not unlike the one the driver of the ATV had had. Lee studied the ring as he unlocked the cuff, noticing a couple of keys that weren't shaped like traditional keys, but were more like old-fashioned skeleton keys. Or maybe they were for some sort of machine. She wasn't sure, but she knew she'd seen the same thing on the other guy's key ring. What did it mean? Why was it familiar to her? Where had she seen something like that before? And recently, too?

"Now what?" she asked, rubbing her wrist where the cold metal of the cuff had bitten into it. "Is this the part where you put a bullet in my head?"

"Nothing that dramatic. We actually need you to change clothes."

"Oh? Into what?"

Again, he gestured, and another man came over with a bag she knew. It was her own bag, a duffel she'd packed in a hurry on her way to the airport a lifetime ago. On top of it, the man set her cell phone, and then he handed her gun and holster to Petey.

"We need you to be wearing your own clothing." Petey gestured to the bag. "The thing is, as far as the people in Seattle know, you left Phoenix six days ago, and fell off the map. No one but Will knew you were here, and as you've pointed out, he's not talking to anyone anymore. So, when they find you, you need to be in your own clothes, and you need to have your cell phone on you. The SIM card has been removed, of course. But they'll assume you did that to keep Fang from tracking you."

"What about all the people at Golden Sphinx who saw me?"

"As far as they know, you were being stalked by an ex—right? Isn't that what the foreman told Miss Dulcie about you?"

How did he know that? But she knew how. She knew who Razor was.

"And the explosions? The bunkhouse you destroyed?"

He shrugged. "Things happen in cold weather. It's a phenomenon people around here are used to seeing."

"Just like that. You think they'll all keep quiet?"

"If they know what's good for them."

Westin flooded her mind in that moment—the feel of him, the taste of him. Would he be okay if she went along with this? If she let them take her out, would he live to see what came next in his story? Would Clint have a chance to make amends with his wife? Would Bowie and Landry and Remington be allowed to continue down the path that was meant for them?

She brushed a hand against her cheek. There were no tears, but she could feel them in her throat. She'd never cried while undercover unless the situation demanded it. She'd never shown her emotions, never allowed a mark to know she was scared or excited or on the verge of taking him out. It was one of the first things Will had taught her. But she wasn't sure she could do that now. She couldn't pretend that those boys didn't matter to her.

"I'll do this. I'll play along. But you have to promise me you won't hurt the boys on Golden Sphinx."

Petey's eyebrows rose. He looked her over, a new curiosity in his eyes. "Which one is it?" he wondered. "Which one got under your skin?"

When she refused to answer, he chuckled. "I know it's not Clint because that boy is more committed to his wife and kid than is healthy. And that Remington… he's too fucked-up to get close to a woman. A man looks at him sideways, he'll kill him. A woman? Won't even let one close to him." He scratched his chin. "Bowie doesn't seem your type. That leaves Landry and Westin." He studied her again, his eyes moving slowly over her, taking in her curves, her long legs and her ample chest. He licked his lips like he was seeing something he'd been craving for a long time. "I'm going to guess Westin because I think Landry is a little too full of himself to handle a woman like you. Am I right?"

Lee turned her head so he couldn't see her expression. She didn't want to give herself away, but her attempts to avoid it caused her to do just that. He laughed, a hardy laugh that came from deep in his belly.

"Our girl is in love with Westin Clark!" he cried, his voice bouncing off the walls, reverberating through the entire building. Some of the other guys laughed, apparently finding it just as amusing as Petey. "Well, well, I guess we'll have to save a little souvenir for Westin, remind him why he's got to keep his big mouth shut!"

She glared at him. "Go to hell!"

"You first."

He slid his gun back into the waistband of his jeans and pulled out a large hunting knife. She refused to cower as he approached her, holding her head up straight, looking him in the eye. He grabbed her braid and began to saw against it, pulling on her hair so that she could feel a few strands pop loose. She gritted her teeth to keep from crying out.

"Hey, Petey, are we expecting someone?" a voice called out from the front of the building.

Petey turned, releasing Lee as he did. She reached up and grabbed his wrist, wrapping her hand around the blade of the knife to wrench it from him. He didn't seem to understand what she was doing at first, because he just looked down at her like he thought it was some kind of joke or something. And then he smacked her, rocking her head back. But she had that knife—and one twist… She jumped to her feet and shoved him back. He stumbled, releasing the knife, but she still had hold of his wrist. She jerked him into her, flipped the knife in her hand and pressed it to his throat. He backed up until he hit the wall, fear finally coming into his eyes, burning in their mossy depths.

Chaos suddenly broke out around them. She thought his buddies had come to his rescue, and she was ready to tell them to back off. But it wasn't his friends.

"Sheriff's office!" a woman's voice cried out. "We've got a warrant to search the premises."

Petey's head turned and she pressed the knife harder against his neck, drawing blood. "Stay still, asshole!"

"You're fucking insane!"

"Lee Montgomery?" The woman's voice that had called out a moment ago was behind her, speaking in low, calm tones. "Agent Montgomery?"

She nodded, bouncing on her good foot as pain once again began to throb in her bad ankle.

"I'm Sheriff Jack Reeves. Your boss back in Seattle asked that we come and give you a hand with this bust."

Lee nodded, tears beginning to fall from her eyes. "The boys on Golden Sphinx. There was a fire."

"They're fine. In fact, there's a couple outside waiting to see you."

She nodded. But she couldn't back down. She wasn't sure why, but she couldn't let Petey go. Something inside of her wouldn't let her."

"My partner is back at Golden Sphinx, too. He and another man, Isai Gomez."

"I know, Agent. We've already spoken with Westin Clark."

She nodded a third time, feeling almost like a bobbing head, but unable to stop. "He's okay?"

"He's fine."

"You know who these people are? You know they've been running drugs through multiple states? That they're responsible for dozens of fentanyl overdoses and—"

"We know, Agent. We've got it under control now."

"Make her let me go," Petey said, his whole body suddenly trembling against her.

"I'm not making her do anything," the woman behind Lee said. "She's the agent in charge here. If she wants to slit your throat, she has the authority to do it."

"That's not funny!"

"I'm not joking."

The fear in Petey's eyes increased tenfold. "Look, Lee; I didn't touch anything more than a few hairs on the back of your head. That's it! Please—you don't have to do this."

Lee nodded. "You're right. I don't have to do anything."

But still, she couldn't make herself let him go. The image of him with that gun in his hands, balancing it like he was trying to decide which hand he could aim better with, if he could do tricks like some gunslinger in the Old West. All the while, he was contemplating her death. And she'd been ready for it, prepared to give up her life for the safety of her friends on Golden Sphinx.

She wanted him to pay for that.

But he would pay. This man was going to go to prison for a very long time. Clint had video of him putting money in a dead drop. She had phone conversations between him and Fang, and more between him and Will. And she was sure some of the guys in this very room would be more than happy to offer testimony on him if it meant lesser charges for them.

It was over. She had bigger fish to fry.

Lee stumbled back, dropping the knife to the floor, hopping on one foot. The sheriff caught her, wrapping an arm around her as she gestured for one of her deputies to come put the cuffs on Petey J.

"We have an ambulance at the front gates for you."

"Thank you."

"Thank your boss back in Seattle. I was on the phone with him most of the afternoon. And then Clint Grooms charged into my office, demanding I do something to help you." She chuckled softly. "You made a lot of very good friends in a very short time, Ms. Montgomery."

They stepped through one of the people-sized doors, officers milling around everywhere, it seemed. There were dozens of cars, most of them with emergency lights flashing. She hadn't realized that such a small town had so many patrol cars. And then she was being lifted into the air.

***

"You disappeared!"

"Sorry."

"As long as you don't do it again."

"I'll try not to."

Westin laughed as he pulled her close, wrapping her up in that embrace that she loved so much. She buried her face against his shoulder and, to her horror, burst into tears. No one seemed to notice, though. Or maybe it was just because she kept her face buried until the sobs finally passed.

Either way, she was surrounded by friends. Maybe it was okay to fall apart now that she had someone there to catch her. Westin had not imagined he'd be here again, especially so soon after the fiasco of the night before. But there he was, standing at the back of an ambulance, watching as the paramedic wrapped Lee's ankle, explaining that she would have to spend the night in the hospital so that a doctor could decide what needed to be done for the dislocation.

Every light seemed to be on in the house. They could see the shadows of officers moving in the windows. Westin knew that Rena and her mother were in there, and he felt horrible for them, having to go through something so traumatic. It wasn't enough that Dominic Mollohan treated them with such indifference; now they had to endure a search warrant that allowed strangers to paw through all their belongings with no concern for their privacy. He wished there was something he could do, but he knew just the sight of his face would likely cause them more pain than comfort.

Lee reached for his hand, squeezing it gently. "I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault. You didn't choose this for him."

"He's your father."

Westin shook his head as his eyes moved over the front of this house he'd dreamed of owning almost his entire life. But dreams rarely ever came true.

"A father is someone who takes the time to get to know a child; he's the man who gets up at night to scare away monsters, and holds hands during illnesses. This man… he wasn't a father. He was a donor."

Lee nodded. "You deserve better."

"I have better. I had a mother who gave up everything for me. And I have a boss who sees me as her son, and four brothers I know would do anything for me. What more do I need?"

"Not a thing."

"Exactly."

Westin leaned toward her and kissed the tip of her nose. "I have everything I could ever want. It was selfish to ask for more."

Even as he said it, something behind him caught her attention. She nodded, and he turned just in time to watch Sheriff Reeves walk Dominic Mollohan out of the house. He thought he was prepared for it, but the actual sight of it was harder than he'd expected. Despite his big words, despite the truth he'd spoken, it still hurt.

Lee had found all the evidence on her partner's computer. She hadn't realized what she had at the time, but she'd forwarded all the files to her boss, even files she hadn't had a chance to review. He was the one who found irrefutable proof, the one who called Sheriff Reeves and offered her the bust, the one who set into motion an arrest that was about to ignite a media storm that would change everything in this small town. All because of this man.

That was the man behind one of the biggest drug rings the state of Colorado had ever seen. That was the man known as Razor, the one who'd come up with the dead drops in the boxes, the one who came up with the idea of selling fentanyl to children. This was the man who was responsible for dozens of deaths over the past ten years or more. And all so that he could save his ranch from the mess his father left behind. To pay for all those lawsuits he'd brought against Asa.

That was his father.