Page 138 of Rogue Mission
Hermosa Costa Rica
Justice and Rosalie’s Wedding Day
It feels good to be back on a horse, I just imagined it would be on a ranch. After retirement. If I live long enough for that.
“Easy girl,” I pat the mare’s shiny chestnut neck as she shifts below me.
“You’ve just got to be a jackass, don’t you?” I ask Truck as he squeezes by me on the rainforest trail, urging his mount in front of mine.
“Actually, wait a minute, Ryker.” He pulls back on the reins, slowing his horse to walk beside mine.
Keeping his voice low, he strikes up a conversation. “I heard a rumor. Did Justice buy a ranch for Rosalie?”
I chuckle, shaking my head. “Who’s running their mouth?”
There’s a triumphant grin on his face and some kind of big gigantic bug clinging to his shirt. I don’t tell him about the bug. Or the rumor.
“So it istrue. That man is all in. Come on. You know I won’t divulge any intel.”
Shit I might be getting soft, because I give him a nod.
“Couple hundred acres. Backs up to the forest somewhere. Nice and safe. No one around for miles. His sister’s moving there too, supposedly, now that they’ve reconnected. There’s some kind of cabin on the property in addition to the ranch house.”
From up ahead, laughter drifts back and my gaze flicks up to trace the sound.
That’s when my chest tightens.
Sun catches on Rosalie’s veil as it lifts in the wind, her smile beaming as she looks back over her shoulder at Justice.
Christ.
What does that feel like to find your human?
There’s a pinch behind my chest wall.
Can’t be my heart.
Must be that damned fruity concoction I guzzled before we left.
When I glance at Truck to see if he notices my distress, he looks contemplative. “Is that knucklehead going to learn to ranch? Because I thought he grew up in the city.”
What am I, the local newspaper?
“He wanted room to build a lab for her, something about microscopes and spectrometers being romantic.”
When Truck laughs, his horse snorts. “Oh god. I’m going to give him so much sh?—”
“You’re going to keep your damned mouth shut,Loverboy.Or Allison will have your balls.”
His grin dies a quick death. “You’re probably right. She’d happily point out all the things I’ve done since falling in love.”
“Like kidnapping her?”
He looks sheepish. “It was kind of romantic. It involved a boat.”
“And that boat sinking,” I remind him.
He shuts up. Thankfully, and all the talk about love doesn’t dip into the dangerous territory—any area including my name.
