Page 2 of Bourbon and Proof

A part of me wants to hold her and tell her I’ll fix this, but it’s clear she doesn’t want a hand anywhere near her.Fuck. “Do you need to see a doctor?” I bite out.

Tears finally fall as her eyebrows knit together, but she shakes her head. “Didn’t get that far,” she mumbles.

I can feel my adrenaline spiking as I watch her let out another trembling breath. This willnothappen again. Clenching my fist, my jaw twitches at the thought of her being hurt in a place where she should be safe. Without another word, I’m striding back to my horse and turning us back the way we came.

“Where are you going? Ace, I don’t need you?—”

“Don’t finish that sentence, Hadley. You go to the main house, and you stay there, shower, do what you need to do. But do not come looking for me. I’ll come find you.”

She slams her foot against the side of her car. “I’ve had enough of men telling me what to do tonight!” she seethes through gritted teeth. Eyes watering and fists clenched, she shoots daggers my way.

I’ve always told myself that I tolerate her in my life because she loves my brother the same way I do—without an ulterior motive. Just because. I’ve never needed to ask Griz what he thought of her; he considered her one of us the first timeshe smiled as she destroyed him in a chess game. It’s a long list of moments that would be categorized as mundane and unimportant, but they mean something to my family—to me. Hurting her isn’t going to go unpunished.

“Then I’m asking,” I say back in a calmer tone. I mount my horse and wait for her to acknowledge what I’ve asked.

She’s so goddam stubborn that she stares at me, battling with herself. Her chin wobbles and watery eyes start spilling again, but she doesn’t say anything. On an exhale, she simply nods.

I ride fast, head down, and pray that nobody sees me. I don’t slow until I reach the stables at Finch Stables, passing her father’s estate on the way. I ignore the logic that keeps ringing through me to stay out of it. To call my brother, Grant, instead and have him come out with a patrol car. But I’m not going to be satisfied until my knuckles are bloody from giving someone a reason to never touch her again. It’s a part of me that’s been cracking for a long time—morals that linger on the edge of acceptable, sanity that’s been waning—hell, even a twinge of sadism teetering along my skin. I’m expecting to find a douchebag knocked out or, at the worst, nursing a bruised ego and maybe a broken dick, but instead, I find a man smiling with a handkerchief pressed against his lip.

“Who the fuck are you?” he asks with a careless glance.

Shit. This isn’t just any fucking guy who works for Wheeler. The youngest Switcher brother is a real son of a bitch. Coming from one of the largest cattle ranch families in the west, that tends to have money and pull, means this isn’t going to be a simple fix. This can’t be the last place he’s been before he goes missing. Rumor is, his father’s on death's doorstep. Switcher’s set up to take over the business and, if I had to guess, that’s what led him to Fiasco in the first place. A calculating Wheeler Finch. A man who makes deals with shitty people, as long as it pads pockets or gains him some kind of clout.

I move my right hand to my belt buckle. I’m not going to bust open my hand on this one. My knuckles are already bruised from earlier. Glancing around him, there isn’t a holster of any kind, so he’s not carrying, but I wouldn’t put it past him if he has some kind of weapon nearby. He’s a cattle rancher, and they’re rarely unarmed.

He takes me in, smirking as he stands. “You’re Ace Foxx.”

“And you’re in some trouble,” I toss back.

“How’s that?” His eyes narrow as he sizes me up.

“You put your hands on someone who doesn’t belong to you,” I say, walking closer as my blood heats. I wrap my belt around my fist and, without stopping, throw two quick jabs to his nose before he even knows what’s coming. The second one cracks and busts open the bridge on contact.

One hand flies to the streaming blood, and the other moves to his back, pulling out a small pocket blade.Pathetic. “You’re misinformed. She very much belongs to me—just made a nice little deal for her.”

Her fucking father.I knock his wrist with my fist, and the knife goes flying. As I rush forward this time, my forearm meets the front of his neck, just as his back hits the wooden pillar in the center of the space. “We don’t put our hands on women here unless they ask.”

His voice comes out strained as he seethes, “This ain’t your business.”

The fuck it isn’t.Any other night, and this might be different, but my nerves are already shot. And seeing her like that...I swallow the smart choices and good sense and instead give in to the anger that’s climbing. AsI throw my weight against him, he yells out the second the metal pierces his skin. The nails that had been protruding from the center wood beam are there to hang reins and rope, but right now, they dig into this piece of shit. They hold him up perfectly, like a partner in a fight, and I rearback for a left hook to make sure he feels it. Three more and the weight of his body is too much for the rusted nails nestled deep into his skin. His body hits the cement and hay with a nauseating thud. Blood slowly pools around the crown of his head like he hit something hard and sharp the moment he hit the floor.That was too easy.I would have preferred a little more of a fight with this fucker.

Chest heaving, I focus on the blood and hair caked along the protruding nails. My throat burns as I try to calm myself.

I pull out my phone and fire off a text like I’ve done countless times before when I need an assist.

ACE

Need to schedule a cleaning.

The bubbles beneath the text pulse immediately.

THE JEWELER

A specific piece?

I drop a pin with my location.

ACE

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