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“The one and only.” I shove the manure fork in between us, forcing him to take a step back or get his fancy suit dirty. “Bye, Ivar. See ya in maybe another ten years or so.”
I turn and enter the stall I was working on, shoving manure onto the fork and dumping it into wheelbarrow. I repeat the process a few more times until I notice the car drive off.
I raise my voice and bellow, “Coast is clear, Cassia. You can come out now,” knowing she’s hiding behind the hay in the back of the stables.
“Thanks, VP, for having my back. I thought he’d never leave,” Cassia sighs. “I can’t understand why he all of a sudden wants to play the big brother.”
“Who knows.” I shrug and lean on the manure fork. “Maybe he’s getting sentimental and realizes you’re the only family he has left.”
“Then he should have been more involved in my life the last few years and not come barging in like a chicken without a head,” Cassia grumbles.
“True,” I agree, because what else is there to say except, “Maybe he has his reasons too. I suggest talking to him, it might clear things up between you guys.”
“Ivar doesn’t talk: he demands and orders. The man can’t handle a simple conversation let alone listen to what another person is saying or suggesting.” Cassia releases a deep sigh. “Okay, enough. This shit is giving me a headache. I’m off to check on our new foal.”
“Catch ya later,” I quip and focus back on the task at hand.
After an hour of hard work, I finally stroll out of the stable and head for the clubhouse. A few months ago, this ranch still belonged to my father. He was the president of Valorous Sally, a motorcycle club filled with Navy SEALs.
Until they were all slaughtered and no one knew why or who did it. My sisters and I swore revenge. Together with the daughters of the fallen brothers we started a new era, one where Valorous Sally MC became a sisterhood instead of a brotherhood; a motorcycle club filled with women.
We’ve been keeping the ranch afloat and managed to discover who murdered our fathers. Shockingly enough it was one of our own. My oldest sister, Hudsyn, and her old man, Ezra, helped–along with some of his brothers of the MC he was a member of at the time–and we were able to take out the killer.
I grin widely when I enter the main room. Hudsyn–who is the president of this MC–is out of town with Ezra. He took her on a one-week vacation to visit his old buddies. Ezra was once a nomad and also part of Cowboy Bikers MC Lawmen, a motorcycle club who also runs a ranch along with being a special division of the government and basically solves crime cases.
Hudsyn deserves some time off to focus on herself and her old man for a change. She’s been fully focused to end the uncertainty of our father’s death for months on end. With the case now solved we are finally able to breathe and steer our MC into calmer seas.
Well, except maybe today when freaking Ivar came barging in thinking he could take Cassia away from the life she clearly enjoys. If it was her own choice to pack up and leave everything behind her? All the love and best wishes. But Cassia asked me to step up and I did. Needless to say, it sure as hell felt good to basically tell Ivar to go fuck himself. I’m still grinning at the memory.
“VP,” Ramona quips. “Do you need me tomorrow?”
“Dammit, Ramona,” I grumble. “Don’t give me another damn excuse. You were locked inside your bedroom for three days last week. Add yesterday and now you want tomorrow too? We have three new Longhorns coming in tomorrow and I want you there.”
She winces because she damn well knows I’m right.
“Sorry. VP. I’ve been tired a lot lately. I have no clue what’s going on.”
“Maybe you need to stop screwing construction guy. I mean, the room should have been ready weeks ago, it’s like he’s doing you more than his damn job,” I grumble. “And for real, the room looks ready to use so why not sign off and be done with it? It’s not like he needs a reason to jump into your bed.”
Kit and Posie chuckle and Ramona’s shoulders sag.
“I don’t think we’re doing much screwing,” she admits on a low whisper.
Shit. Drama. Not what I need with the day I had. I was up at five this morning and did a load of chores my sister usually does and then add my own workload and Ivar showing up; I’m ready for a cold beer and some relaxing. But I guess that has to wait.
“Church, Ramona,” I quip and glance around the room. My gaze connects with the one I’m looking for and I jerk my chin along with a snap of her name, “Sonnet.”
The three of us stroll into church and when I close the door and the two have taken a seat, I stalk to the tiny fridge in the corner and take out a cold beer before I demand, “Start talking, Ramona.”
She’s wringing her hands and I hate seeing her like this. Come to think of it, I’m sure I haven’t seen her this spooked in like ever.
Softening my voice, I lean forward as I cover her hand with mine. “I’m sorry if I came on too hard earlier. I’ve had one hell of a day and I know it’s no excuse. All I’m saying is: you’re safe here. There’s nothing you can’t say that will leave this room. Come on, Mona. We can’t help if you don’t spit it out.”
Instead of saying something, she slides her hand away from mine and rolls up her sleeves.
“The last few weeks I’ve had…I can’t…I don’t know how else to put it other than…I keep waking up with bruises. I have no recollection of falling asleep and I’m still tired when I wake up. Do you think I should see a doctor? Run a blood test?”
Fury flows through me. I’m an avid reader of crime romance and I’ve read something that seems vaguely familiar to what she’s saying. But, before I jump to conclusions I have to make sure.
