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“Yes, sir.”
After Tim Moonie hung up, he studied the town of Hayden as he rode through it. It was a quiet, boring town. Towns like this were easy for men to control. He’d been here a little under two weeks, took one look at the sheriff, and knew he wouldn’t be of any help.
Men like Denver Langston and Chase Bowen are cut from the same, stupid cloth.
Once in his hotel room, he went to his luggage and pulled out a burner phone. The number he needed was on speed dial. He walked to the window as the line rang in his ear. The man he needed answered on the third ring.
“Sir.”
“Hallow Ranch,” Tim stated.
“Hayden, Colorado,” the deep voice replied a few seconds later.
“The very one.”
“How many targets?”
Years ago, Tim would’ve taken this moment to think about the outcome of his actions. Now, the only outcome he would accept is the deed to that fucking land. So, when he answered, he knew he would sleep like a fucking baby.
“All of them.”
Chapter Thirty-One
Valerie
Momwasgoingtobe here in less than five hours.
She was going to be near me again.
After a month and a half.
My heart was bursting with anxiety and a strange sense of happiness. Every day since meeting over FaceTime, Denver would show Mom something new on the ranch. Whether it be through FaceTime or through texts, he would make sure that she got to see a piece of this beauty. I was happy she got to see it, but I was overjoyed she could see it in person.
Strangely enough, it had been quiet since Moonie’s visit the other day, except for the final termination process email I got from Moonie Pipelines yesterday, which was a PDF document of my tax information, more exit paperwork, and a farewell letter from Mr. Moonie himself.How kind of the bastard.When I opened the email, I immediately called Denver, who had been down at the barn with the vet. One of the horses, Lawson’s, was pregnant.
The letter from Moonie was signed and dated the day I was fired. Still, it made me uneasy. I didn’t like knowing he knew I was still here. There was something about the look in his eyes when he saw me on the porch that made a chill crawl up my spine.
He lookedunhinged.
Denver and the men assured me that nothing would happen to me or my mom, and, I trusted them.
Denver also told me that for right now, he didn’t want me going anywhere alone. If I left the ranch to go into town, one of them would follow. Caleb would remain at the ranch, not that he seemed to mind. He’d been spending most nights in the bunkhouse with the cowboys anyways, swapping stories and playing games.
Last night, Denver took me down there for dinner. He was too tired to cook and said Mags was cooking. I learned quickly that Mags was a better cook than Denver, which I didn’t think was possible.
We ate, we talked, we laughed, and they even taught me poker. Well, they tried anyways. I felt like I was finally a part of something—a family—Denver’s family. Lawson and Lance teased me about being a city girl from Texas. Beau had gone to Dallas. Jigs told me stories about when Denver was a boy, running circles around him and his father. Mags was quiet most of the night, only answering if he was directly spoken to. He cooked the meal, served it, ate in silence while sitting in his chair, which was in the corner away from everyone, and then he observed everyone from afar. When Denver and I were heading back up to the house last night, I asked him about Mags.
“A man like Mags has demons, Val. He served in the Marines, like me, but what he saw was different from what I did.”
My throat tightened as I thought about Denver’s childhood, what he shared with me the other night. “What about your demons?” I asked softly.
He stopped and turned to me, his gray eyes scanning my face. “I have my ways of fighting them. Everyone has demons, baby, and everyone must make the choice.”
“What choice?” I whispered.
“To either fight them or let them consume you.”
It was mid-morning now, and I was in the laundry room. A beautiful laundry room, I might add. It had the same color scheme as the kitchen, the cabinets above the washer and dryer painted sage green. One half was for laundry and the other half could be considered a mudroom. As I was putting in the last load, I heard the low rumble of Denver’s truck outside.
