“That’s not necessary. I’ve finally located her,” I hear him say from across the space. I take the spiral staircase, two stairs at a time.
Back inside the chapel, I freeze and raise my eyes to the loft.
Jaxson is standing at the balcony, phone to ear and scowling fiercely. “I’ll finish my orders.”
His words don’t drift down to me like we’re acting out our twisted version of Romeo and Juliet. No, his words drop like daggers, piercing me to the core.
“Yes. I understand. She’ll be dealt with.”
25
Shelby
The Ranch feels different. I can’t put my finger on it. The muted light in the great room casts a warm, earthy glow across the space, the furniture has been rearranged just so, everything neat and tidy and in place. It’s quiet with no signs of the men in residence. A welcome relief, this peacefulness that’s settled over the Ranch.
Yet someone buzzed me in at the gate.
Jaxson? Is he here?
“You missed the fireworks,amiga.”
Not Jaxson. I shake off my disappointment and turn my attention to the handsome man who has entered the room wearing nothing but a pair of worn jeans. No shirt. No shoes. All muscular male. Except he’s not the man I’m anxious to see.
Or the other man I’m dreading confronting. Yeah, first things first.
“Is Hayden in his office?”
“Gone.”
“He’s not here?” I scowl. That was fast, unless he’d already left when I contacted him earlier.
“The news angers you? Trust me, you should be relieved that he’s off and away on business. I’ve been with Hayden for years. So let me give you some advice. You poke that tiger the wrong way and he’ll kill you without a second’s hesitation. Better remember that. Weallneed to remember that.”
Jesus. Is that what I’ve done—poked the tiger? What the hell, he doesn’t truly believe I told the Pricks about Freedom’s Bluff? About TORC?
“How upset is he?” I demand, searching for answers.
Diego whistles, a brief, low-pitched sound, expressing his disbelief. “Upset? No. Wrong word. Pissed off beyond belief. Better count your blessings you arrived after the show.”
“The show?”
“Dios mio. It’s a wonder no one got killed . . . though Hayden’s famous for biding his time . . .”
There’s a chill in the room like someone’s turned on the air conditioning, and now I want nothing more than to bid Diego adios and seek out the warmth of Jaxson’s presence.
“I always thought you’d be the death of him.”
“What did Jaxson do?” I manage, my pulse in a mad race with my thoughts. Me . . . the death of him. The death of Jaxson. Not a chance. No way.
“Protected you.”
Now not only is there a chill in the room, but it feels like Diego hurled a bucket full of ice water into my face. I blink, and gasp. “Where is he?”
“Recovering.”
“Re . . . recovering? From what?”
Diego whistles once more. Same tone, same sense of disbelief. “He punched Hayden in the mouth.”