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“Not too bad. Good to see you, Rip.” I looked beyond him and saw three more former agents I’d worked with on several ops: Mick “Jagger” Reynolds, Breckin “Ink” Ryan, and Hayes “Press” Preston.
“How’s it looking, boys?”
“We should be able to finish in a day or two.”
“In that case, you should take a break and come along with us tonight. From what I’ve heard, CB Rice is giving an impromptu concert.”
The three guys looked at Rip. “Okay with me.”
When he motioned for me to follow, the men went back to work.
“Deck asked us to stay on and see what else we can do to help.”
“By help, do you mean asset protection?”
“That too.”
“What else?”
“The four of us formed a side business a couple of years ago, flipping houses. We’ve gotten pretty good at it. We could get some of the other cabins fixed up, move the dude ranch along quicker.”
“I appreciate the offer, but money’s pretty tight around here, Rip.”
He shrugged. “We’re gonna be here anyway, and we’re gettin’ paid, so we might as well keep ourselves busy.”
“I’ll give Decker a call this afternoon and find out what he’s thinking.”
“You want me to give you a rundown of what we’ve got goin’ on out here?”
I spent the next few hours working with Rip’s team. Most of what we did was place and/or bury sensors that were all part of an elaborate network of communication devices. What the sensors picked up determined the main system’s response, ranging from camera-monitoring all the way to the deployment of weapon-equipped drones.
What blew my mind was the size of the sensors. No way in hell could they be detected by anyone, including those of us who installed them, unless they had the app Decker wrote to monitor the entire system. If, say, an animal unknowingly dug it up or it was disturbed in some other way, a camera on the sensor itself would immediately be activated.
Before I knew it, it was seventeen hundred hours. I waved at Rip. “Time for me to head out. You guys coming along?”
When the caravan of SUVs pulled through the gates of the Flying R Ranch, I wondered why I’d agreed to come out tonight. I would’ve preferred staying at the cabin alone with Stella. At least I would’ve known that all the assholes who kept showing up and interrupting me every time I was about to get my hands on her would’ve been here while we were there.
Hell, she probably wasn’t speaking to me anyway after the jackass move I pulled by walking out on her.
We pulled up to the barn where Flynn said we were supposed to meet up with the band. Before I could get to the SUV Stella was riding in, I saw Press get out of the first vehicle, open her door, and escort her through the alley doors. As I walked closer, I could hear the band had already started playing.
“Hey,” said Port, walking up with two bottles of beer. “Want one?”
I looked around for Stella but didn’t see her. Where the hell had she gone?
“She’s dancing.” Port pointed at her and Press.
Instead of taking the bottle from my brother, I stalked over to where several other couples were dancing in front of the stage where CB Rice was playing. I was within a foot of them when I saw Cord do the very thing I was about to and cut in. I thought about doing it anyway, but I’d only make myself look like a dick. I returned to where Port waited, holding out the same bottle to me, this time with a smirk.
“Not a lot of dance partners here tonight,” he muttered.
I looked around the room; guys outnumbered women at least five to one. When I turned back, Porter had walked away.
“Hey, Buck,” I heard a familiar voice say from behind me. “Would you like to dance?”
There were two reasons I shouldn’t dance with Bethany—Stella and Porter. But the look on her face outweighed both. While my brother might be pissed at first, later he might not be if I told him the only reason I’d agreed was to talk to Beth about him.
“It’s nice to have you back home,” she said, wrapping her arms around my neck. I took one and set it on my shoulder and the other on my waist. “Why’d you do that?” she asked as I danced her around the floor.
