Page 5 of Where They Belong

Mason frowned and furrowed his eyebrows. “What about them?”

“Are they safe when you’re out on the range with the horses?”

Trina bristled and narrowed her eyes. She was tougher than he was.

“Of course they are. They all know how to handle themselves.” He gestured toward the wagon. “Whoever is doing this is clearly targeting me. Besides, there’s always a hand around.”

Nick raised an eyebrow. “If that’s the case, why didn’t a single person see who stuck that death threat on the wagon?”

Mason opened his mouth and snapped it shut. Dammit. Nick had a point there.

Nick sighed again, like Mason was an idiot, and maybe on this, he was. “First, you’re going to set up some security cameras—”

“I have some in the medical barn stalls.”

Nick shook his head. “You need more than that, and you need them in and outside of all the barns, not just the stalls, as well as all the ranch houses, and a few other angles around the property. You should set up some game cameras on the more remote areas of the property too. I’m also going to call in some guys for extra protection.”

“What?” Mason reared back. “I don’t need protection. This isn’t anything I can’t take care of myself. I’ll install a few extra cameras, but that’s it.”

“Nick is right,” Trina implored. “We need more eyes on the ranch, and I’ll feel better knowing you have backup.”

Mason glared at her, but his next words stalled when Trina’s husband, Brett, pulled into the courtyard on a Gator utility vehicle. He spotted them on the bench, steered over, and hopped off the still-running machine.

Mason, Nick, and Trina all stood. Even the dogs rose to attention.

“What’s going on?” Mason asked. A chill seeped into the pit of his stomach at the look of concern on Brett’s face.

“Someone shot holes into three water troughs in the big western field.” Brett pulled his cell phone from his back pocket. “Here.” He handed it over to Mason, opened to the camera roll app.

Mason scrolled through the photos, with Nick and Trina looking over his shoulder.

“Shit.” Three new troughs on top of the extra cameras, as well as bodyguards, were not in his budget. Sure, he wasn’t hurting for money—thanks to how profitable the ranch had been and a sizeable inheritance—but running a wild horse sanctuary wasn’t a moneymaking endeavor.

“When was the last time you checked them, Brett?” Nick asked.

“Yesterday,” Brett answered, hands on his hips and corners of his eyes pinched. “We check horses, fences, and troughs every day.”

Nick took the phone from Mason and forwarded the images to his own phone. Then he returned it to Brett and turned to Mason. Mason opened his mouth, but Nick put his hand up again.

“It doesn’t matter if you want someone here or not, Mason.Gunsmade those holes. Whoever is threatening you is armed. A security detail will be here before the end of the week,” Nick said in a voice that brooked no argument. “The department will cover their expenses, so don’t argue lack of funds with me on this.”

Without waiting for a rebuttal from Mason, Nick strode toward his vehicle. He put his cell phone to his ear, and before he climbed into the Interceptor, Mason heard him say, “I have a job for you.”

“No,” Colt snapped. His voice cracked the air like a bullwhip and reverberated sharply off the kitchen walls of the rented Florida farmhouse he shared with his brothers.

A fleeting sense of guilt brushed over him for not even taking a second to hear Sheriff Nick Chambers out. But there could never be any other answer. The moment Nick said the job was in Havenridge, Colorado—on Haverstall Mountain Ranch, no less—the bitter taste of long-buried hurt and anger pooled on the back of his tongue. He squeezed his eyes shut and fought back memories that clawed at the edges of his mind in search of daylight.

Awkward silence filled the phone line, only broken when Nick cleared his throat.

“Would you at least give it some thought?” Nick asked tentatively. “The ranch owner is in over his head right now, and I’m really concerned for his safety. If we had the manpower here, I’d take care of it myself, but I know you and your brothers would be the best protection.”

Colt and his two younger brothers, Wes and Levi, had known Nick a long time—going on ten years. They’d come up through the police academy together, and while Nick had followed traditional paths into law enforcement, Colt and his brothers had decided to venture out on their own. They were cowboys through and through, and answering to someone else didn’t sit well with any of them. Together, they formed Stonebraker Protection and Investigation Services, where they had control of what cases they took on and a little more freedom than the average cop to do what was needed.

Colt rubbed at the growing tightness in his chest. He knew Nick had taken a sheriff’s position in northern Colorado but had had no idea the job was in Havenridge. What were the odds? He hadn’t set foot in that small mountain town for twenty years and wasn’t about to go back now.

“I’m sure there is another team out there that can look after him,” he replied with effort.

“Sure, there are, but you’re the best, and the owner, Mason Hayes, is a friend of mine,” Nick insisted. “I’d feel better if it were you guys.”

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