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That head had a handsome, bearded face.
That head had a black cowboy hat on top of it.
That head also had gray eyes.
Those eyes— they were onme.
Smoke filled my lungs, holding me captive.
Gray smoke.
My smoke.
I whimpered, bringing my palm to my mouth.
My cowboy.
Chapter Eleven
Denver
Fuck.
She ran, but I didn’t. I didn’t move my feet, only my torso as I twisted back and faced my boys. There was nothing around this ranch for miles—town was ten miles down the road. It was dark. She had nowhere to go. Only a person with a death wish would try to survive a night like this on foot after a storm.
My city girl new better.
She was smart.
Jigs’ eyes met mine in question. None of them gave a shit she’d just witnessed our hit. The dead man at my feet deserved what he got.
He was lucky we didn’t torture him first.
Tilting my chin up, I answered his silent question. “Burn it.”
“Yes, boss,” he said with a nod.
Beau pushed off the bunkhouse, taking a long drag of the cigarette between his lips. Beau only smoked on nights like this, the nights blood was spilled. He looked to the dead man and then in the direction she ran, his blue eyes flashing with something that pissed me of. It shouldn’t have, but it did.
“We have a problem with her?” That was Lawson.
I shook my head. “Nope.”
He grunted. His brother was already putting on gloves, ready to get this night over with.
“Hopefully by tomorrow, I’ll be able to call the sheriff,” I said. The boys nodded and I turned away from them. There was nothing else that needed to be said. Tonight, wasn’t a night for beers and shooting the shit.
My boots crunched over the gravel as I stared ahead. Why had she run down here? Why—for a spilt second—had there beenworryin her eyes?
Worry for me?
The night was quiet, and my house on the hill was eerie similar.
This was good, I thought.
At least she wasn’t screaming her fucking head off.
What she’d just witnessed wasn’t a good reason to be screaming.
