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Jacques took my hand and placed it on his lips. I felt every horrible word fall from them.
“When you’re told to do something, you will obey without argument. You do not share what goes on in this house with anyone. What’s between us is between us.”
“Us?” I whispered.
“You’re our girl now,” he dropped like it was a fact of life. “Quinn is out. Now there’s you.”
“Your girl. Mind, soul, and... body.”
“Yes.”
I brushed the sharp ridge of his nose, continuing to his brows. Impossibly long lashes tickled me as he blinked.
“I wouldn’t have thought you wanted either,” I said. “You seemed a bit ticked off about the surprise shower in the middle of class.”
“Yes.”
The slight smile froze on my face. “But you’re over it, right? Chasing me through the forest and scaring the shit out of me makes up for it. We can move on to bigger things.”
“No.”
A flush crept up my neck. “Put it down to not being a genius, but I’m going to need more than one-word replies to understand what you’re getting at.”
“I see. Then, let me be clear. You haven’t made up for your unfortunate choices that morning. I planned to handle it Ruckus night, but instead you handled us.”
I lowered my hand, taking a step back.
“Another unfortunate choice, and this one with bigger consequences. After your shoulder heals, I’ll deliver those consequences.”
“Why after my shoulder heals?”
He cocked a brow. “Would you prefer I do it now?”
Heat stained my cheeks. “What are the consequences? What exactly are you going to do to me?”
“Cairo’s in the process of setting up your space,” he said, ignoring the questions. “You’ll stay in this room till he’s done.”
“My space? Did you guys get my things from the farm?”
“We have everything you need.”
“Why am I locked in here? I chose to come with you guys. I’m not going to run.”
“Why is that?” His tone sharpened. “We had little chance of catching up to you, despite Cairo’s plans to catch you on the bridge. You were free of us, and yet you handed yourself over on a platter. Explain.”
I grinned. “Huh. Well, isn’t this interesting.”
“What?”
“You really don’t know, do you?” I laughed. “None of you do. You spent all last night in the living room, arguing about what the farm girl is up to.
“Even better, Jacques Stone, the cattle wrangler, has no idea why I hopped in that truck.” I leaned in, whispering against his lips. “I guess I’m not so textbook after all.”
His cool, if narrowed, gaze surveyed me. “Eight.”
I brushed past him and slid into bed. “I’m cool to stay in here till you set up my digs. It’s much nicer than my last place. Oh, and I’ll take breakfast while you’re at it.”
“Nine.”
Jacques left me with that and returned me to my locked solitude. I suspected I’d soon find out why he was counting up. Nothing would be able to help me then.
***
Arsenio
Jacques climbed off the stairs.
“Well?” I asked.
He shook his head. “No explanation for why she chose us. Accurately, she found the question amusing.”
“What business have we had with the de Souzas?” Roan asked. “If she’s up there plotting to slit our throats while we’re sleeping, I’d at least like to know why.”
“She looks familiar,” Legend said. “I think Dad did business with her grandmother. He did with most of the local farms.”
“Did he screw her over?”
“If he did, it would’ve been my wallet under that container.”
Our attention shifted to Cairo, who reclined feet up on the coffee table and stretched out on the couch, digging through the bags we went back and took from the old farmhouse.
“It’s me she has the problem with,” Cairo said. “Or I should say, with the sheriff. She hasn’t come clean, but I’ve seen that look. She hates him.”
“There it is,” Roan said. “So, that’s why she came back. She wasn’t leaving till she got another chance at fucking over the sheriff.”
“Possibly.”
“You’re not worried?”
He mouth-shrugged without stopping in his task. “Enemy of my enemy, as they say.”
“The sheriff’s not the enemy,” I said. Funny how we’d all taken to speaking of Cairo’s father by title. We’ve known the man our whole lives—which had something to do with it.
“Wasn’t talking about him.”
I inclined my head, letting the matter drop. “What’s she got?”
“Nothing.” Cairo fished out an album. “Clothes, books, toothbrush. The regular stuff. She’s got a laptop. It’s not password protected, but she deleted the search history. Everything else on there are old school assignments. No weapons. No notebooks with our names scribbled a thousand times.”
“But she killed Cavendish.”
“Yes, there is that.”
Our gaze shifted again—peering through the ceiling at the surprisingly attractive little assassin, kicking back in Cairo’s room.
“Old history makes no difference,” I said. “She’s our girl now. Her days of plotting against us are over.”
“She won’t be easy to break,” Cairo said. “Rain took my cock like a good girl, then she took a crossbow to my head. She’s going to make this interesting for us.”
