Page 133 of Nothing Special X: The Last Stand

He stayed leaning against his truck for almost an hour.

Nobody rushed up to him or came out of the house and asked what the hell he was doing. And he believed Fox did that on purpose. The bastard had always been intuitive, damn near eerie with it. Fox had chosen this peaceful life over the dangerous one SWAT offered after he’d met and fallen in love with Bull, yet Syn doubted that natural ability of his to solve problems had disappeared.

A horse came over the rise like a shadow, and Syn straightened to gaze at it with the respect it deserved.

The animal was enormous. Almost seventeen hands at the withers, maybe more, with a jet-black coat glistening like velvet under the setting sun and a long black mane that moved like silk.

His head was high, ears alert, and every step he made radiated power and command.

And Fox was on his back.

He wore a black ball cap with the ranch logo stitched across the front, a matching black T-shirt hugging the lean strength of his torso, worn jeans under black chaps, and dusty cowboy boots.

He held the reins loosely in one hand, almost lazily, as if the huge animal beneath him obeyed because it wanted to, not because it was being forced.

Syn smiled for the first time in weeks. It felt strange.

“You were always the show-off on your squad.” Syn shook his head as Fox approached. “I see some things never change.”

Fox’s grin was cunning as ever.

He brought the horse to a stop a few feet away and swung down effortlessly. Annoyingly so. He landed in the dirt, dropped the reins, and the horse stayed glued to his side.

Syn looked him over. “What kind of horse is he?”

Fox stroked the horse’s neck. “Arabian. His name’s Diablo. Bull rescued him a few years ago.”

Syn eyed the animal and Diablo stared right back.

“He doesn’t look very friendly. Which I assume is why his name means the devil in Spanish.”

“For a long time, he wouldn’t let anyone touch him. Couldn’t get near him, much less ride him. He used to bite, kick stall doors in half,” Fox said, sliding his hand over the horse’s glossy shoulder.

“What changed?”

Fox’s smile turned smug. “He met me.”

Syn snorted.

“You know I have that effect on men.” Fox patted Diablo’s neck. “Turns out animals too.”

Syn laughed, and the sound surprised him enough that he almost stopped.

Fox noticed it but didn’t make a big deal of it. He walked up and embraced him, one arm hard around his shoulders, the other thumping against his back.

It was genuine. Brotherly. Understanding. So much that he held on for an extra second.

When they parted, Fox tipped his head toward the barns. “Walk with me to the stables. I need to brush him down. You can brush his friend, Nimbus. He’s a good boy. You’ll like him. Then we’ll put your stuff in the house after.”

Syn gave Diablo a wary look. “I’ve never been around horses.”

“You can trust Nimbus. He’s a young quarter horse, eight years old. He’s all love and compassion.”

They walked in silence.

Diablo followed Fox without needing the reins, black mane shifting, hooves quiet on the packed dirt.

Syn took in more of the ranch as they went.