Page 23 of Recklessly Rogue

She sighs. “I’m not afraid of Chris.”

“Well, you probably should be.”

I know Ruby and Scarlett have been on their own for a very long time. I can only assume that Ruby has had to deal with men at the strip club and bar who were aggressive or just assholes—drunk or not. I actually don’t want to know if they ever had to defend themselves at any of their homes. I’m not sure I want to know.

She frowns. “Henry?—”

“Don’t make me handcuff you to a chair in the bar until this is over,” I say.

Her frown deepens, then her mouth drops open. Probably when she realizes I’m not fucking around.

“Henry.”

I cross my arms.

“You can’t justhandleall of thisforme.”

“Of course I can.” She’s ridiculous, and not thinking clearly, if she thinks I’m not going to do exactly that.

“But…what about…”

“What about what, Ruby?” I ask, a bit exasperated. “I need to get to your house where yourfriendand her little boy are being harassed.”

She presses her lips together and nods. “Fine. Go. But I’ll be behind you.”

“Several minutes,” I tell her firmly.

She sighs, but says, “Yes,several minutesbehind you.”

“And don’t make any stops on your way home.”

“Where would I stop?”

“Ruby,” I say. “Can you, please, just say ‘yes, sir’?”

I can see her eye roll even from several feet away in the shadowy parking lot.

“No, actually I can’t.”

I don’t smile. I just say, “I’ll settle for a ‘fine’.”

She blows out a breath and gives me a soft, almost inaudible, “Fine.”

Good enough. For now.

I have a feeling we’re going to be having this conversation, or something much like it, again, so I get in my car and pull onto the highway to make the short drive into the tiny town of Emerald. I pull into Ruby’s driveway a few minutes later.

Sure enough, a man is pacing back and forth across the porch. He’s in blue jeans and a flannel jacket with work boots and has a cap on.

The porch light is on, but it’s not enough light for me to tell anything about a weapon other than he’s not holding anything in his hands.

I get out and slam the door hard.

He comes to the top of the steps, where he stands with his feet braced apart, his hands on his hips.

“Who the fuck are you?” he asks as I approach across the grass.

“I’m the guy who’s going to tell youonetime nicely to leave. Then I’m the guy who’s going tomake youleave if you don’t.”

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