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I laid my hands on Rogue’s shoulders. “This isn’t a game. The men who will be there are dangerous as fuck. The only reason we have any chance of them listening to us is because they need a place to lie low or the people they answer to have forced them into hiding.”
“And we’re there to fight their enemies?”
“You’re not.”
“I’m not doing this half-ass. If I can hang on to a bull and manage not to get myself killed, I can fight off some stupid pieces of criminal shit.”
“Like you haven’t been doing that anyway?”
Color rose in Rogue’s cheeks. “I occasionally needed to supplement my income. I’m a good bull rider, but I’m not the best, and I wasn’t ever going to let us live like we used to again.”
His words brought memories of those worst years flooding back. I understood how he felt, but I wouldn’t let him work with men like those who’d ruined any chance we had of a decent childhood. “All that stops now.”
“Then let me play a real part in this.”
He was going to insert himself no matter what I said. “Fine.”
Rogue smiled. “Then you’ve got yourself a deal. Once I finish up this weekend—”
“No. Now.”
“You think I’m just going to pack up and follow you there?”
“Fuck yes I do. No more bull riding. You’re working with me and Rhys now.”
He smiled. “Am I really?”
“Yes. We’re brothers. We should be together.”
“All right, but I’ve got to call my agent. He’s going to be pissed.”
I hadn’t really expected my brother to pack his bags and jump into the truck with me, but I made him promise he’d be at the ranch in two days, and I believed he would.
Normally when I left my brother, I went over and over our conversations, trying to figure out why we both chose to hurt each other with the things we said. I didn’t need to do that today, which meant that the moment I was alone in my truck, the only thing I thought about was Jacob. Since I’d watched the door of the bar close behind him, not a day had gone by that I hadn’t thought about how right he’d felt, how perfectly he’d responded, and how very much I wanted to fuck him again.
5
JACOB
Iwas cleaning up after closing time, putting away glassware from the dishwasher and hoping somebody else would take out the trash before I had to. I hated going out into the alley after closing. It was way too creepy in the wee hours of the morning.
As I put the last glass away, my phone buzzed. I didn’t recognize the number, but I answered it anyway, hoping somehow it was Grant. I had no idea how he would have gotten my number, especially since I’d worked hard to keep it private. Only a few people had it, but if Grant had asked, I would’ve given it to him in an instant.
At least, since it was the middle of the night, I could assume it wasn’t one of the many bill collectors who’d been hounding me. Tips just weren’t helping make ends meet this month.
When I heard the man on the other end, I wished it was a collection agency. That would have been preferable to the voice I’d hoped never to hear again.
“Hello, Jacob. It’s been far too long since we’ve talked.”
His voice made my stomach flip-flop. How the hell had my ex gotten my new number?
I should have ended the call immediately, but I wanted to know why he was calling and how much he knew about me. Did he have my address? Did he know where I was working?
If he didn’t have all the specifics yet, I was going to have to run again. He was close—I felt it—but I didn’t have the money or resources for another move.
“I know you’re there,” he said. “I can imagine how fast your heart is beating. You can’t catch your breath, can you? I’ve told you there’s no reason to be afraid of me.”
That was a lie. There was every reason to be afraid of him. He’d expected me to cut off contact with my friends, to quit my job, to be available to him all the time. I’d never figured out exactly what he did to make all his money, but I knew it wasn’t legal. I also knew if I ever told anyone about the illegal things I’d seen or heard, he’d kill me.
