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“What? Are you going to call her again?”
“What’s between us is more important than a phone call.”
Nash gaped. “Are you thinking of going to DC?”
“If she started seeing someone else because I disappeared to get my head on straight, then I need to remind her how good we are together.” And hope things didn’t get out of hand.
Nash nodded. “How? If she’s pissed or hurt, it’s safe to say she’s not going to let you demonstrate with sex.”
“No, Madison deserves an apology and an explanation.” The sex would follow.
It would suck to rip his veins open and bleed for her face-to-face, but he’d do it. Besides, what if his behavior that weekend with her had just been a fluke? What if he wouldn’t be commanding, demanding, and dominating next time?
“That’s not a lame plan.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“When are you leaving?”
Now that he had direction, he didn’t want to wait another fucking minute. He’d given the competition at least a three-week head start and Madison even longer to get over him. “Tonight. I’m going to ask Haisley exactly where to find her. Then I’m going to pack up my Jeep and head north.”
“What about the bosses?”
He grimaced. “I just came back from a week at the Texas border, looking into those coyotes. I don’t think they’ll send me back out just yet.”
Matt had told the rancher who’d hired EM Security to fact-find that he’d seen ample evidence of women and kids being smuggled across the borders. Hell, he even had video. No doubt, those victims had been plucked from everything familiar and would eventually be set up as sweatshop or sex workers. It broke his damn heart.
“All your digging hasn’t turned up any proof about who’s behind the operation?”
Matt shook his head. “There must be locals involved—on both sides of the border. They know the terrain. They know their enemies and allies. And they know when and how to avoid detection. I wouldn’t be surprised if some rogue agents in Customs and Border Patrol are involved, too. But none of those people are organizing this ring. Figuring out who’s funding this shit will take time, but I won’t give up.”
“That rancher is paying EM Security a bundle to make them stop crossing on his land.”
He didn’t blame Whit McFadden. Digging up a couple of child graves in the middle of his pasture would motivate him to make the violence against innocents stop, too. “Yep. But until the police finish the forensics, we’re at a standstill. So I’m out of here for a few days. The bosses can fucking fire me if they want. I’ll get another job. But I doubt I’ll find another woman who makes me feel the way Madison does.”
Nash clapped him on the back. “Amen. My two cents? The bosses won’t fire you. From what my brother has said, Hunter, Logan, and Joaquin all went through epic shit to get their wives to say yes. So they should understand.”
“Time will tell.” He bobbed his head toward Madison’s gal-pals. “Let’s move in.”
Haisley leaned against the pool table on the far side of the room, swigging bubbly and scowling at a guy wearing a backward ball cap, a gray tank that revealed ink on bulging shoulders, and jeans slung so low his black boxers peeked out.
The guy leaned toward the redhead like he had every right to touch her. “C’mon, baby. I’m a known commodity.”
“Which, in my book, means you’re stale.” Haisley gestured to the other side of the bar. “Move along.”
The interloper didn’t take the hint. Instead of leaving, he wrapped his arm around her waist. “I did you good before.”
The two women clustered around Haisley, ones Matt recognized from the wedding, both snickered.
“That’s not how we heard it,” quipped the blonde at her side.
The brunette next to her joined in. “Gracelyn is right. Below average is a more accurate description, so you should dial back your bragging.”
Haisley pointed at her friend. “What she said. Now, seriously, Jase, get lost.”
The guy’s face hardened. “You’re being a cunt. You need to get laid. Maybe that will cure some of your bitchiness.”
Beside Matt, Nash stiffened, then lunged in Jase’s face. “What the fuck did you say to her?”
