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Besides, I was raised by a formidable woman, a father who raised me the same as my brothers, except they weren’t allowed to touch me even while he allowed them to settle things among themselves. Not to mention two physically strong and shrewd older brothers. There was no time for fear if I was to hold my own with them. Same with Layton for that matter.
Me: What’s going on?
Braxton: More to come. Just be smart.
“Well, thanks for nothing.” I mutter to myself.
Brax is not a man of few words. He lays it all out there. I wouldn’t say his texts are terse, but he’s communicating a lot in very few words. This is definitely not his style.
I move to my Wrangler and grab my pistol from the glovebox. Dropping the mag, I check it, rack it a time or two, assuring the dust and dirt of a dry Texas summer hasn’t found its way into the slide.
When I’m comfortable that it is functional, I pop the magazine back in and charge it to make sure there’s one in the pipe. I drop it into the grimy holster that hasn’t fared as well in the heat. I’ll fix that tomorrow.
I stay with the horses in the eerie silence. No music today. Not after Brax’s warnings anyway. Not that I enjoy silence, but I’d be a fool to distract myself when I need to be smart. I’d be a greater fool if I gave someone cover. And if Brax thinks I need my pistol, it’s because something or someone has given him that impression.
Not once has anyone ever asked me to make sure I was personally protected. Ever.
Not once.
So I listen.
And watch.
And keep busy.
When I hear the wails of an ambulance on the grounds, I also hear the whinnies of my horses. That is, just before I hear footsteps slowly hitting the hay-covered floor.
It takes me a moment, but resolve steels up my spine. I can handle anything I need to do today. Not that I’d be happy with it. But I can do it. I take a deep breath, settle my hand on my holster, and widen my stance.
That’s when the sound of Colt’s babbles hits my ears.
Cyler is moving to the back where the supplies are as Elias rounds the corner to see my hand on my hip. I quickly remove it and rush to him, pressing my mouth to his, wrapping an arm around his neck.
“Why are you here? What’s going on?” I step back.
He lifts Colt in his seat as if that’s all the answer I should need. “Your cameras… We need to repurpose them.”
“Okay…?” It comes out as a question as I turn and move to the computers in my office.
“Okay? You’re just accepting that? Who are you and what have you done with Brighton Ranger?”
The sirens move. I have no clue where, but the lights hit the barn differently, and the sound reverberates unlike it did moments ago.
“Something’s going on.”
“Yeah. And I’ll tell you, but I need the cameras. We need the cameras.”
I wiggle the mouse on my computer and log in to the surveillance system that allows us to have eyes on our horses. They’re set up here, in the individual stables, and aimed at the paddocks. There are also a couple in the trees around the property. We’ve never used them for security, but had them installed on the off chance a horse were injured or escaped, we could find and help it.
I step back, allowing Eli to have better access to the multiple black and white squares that show the inner workings of the ranch. It’s not lost on me how easy it is for me to trust him, rely on him, and allow him to lead.
He leans in, studying each one. I see the ambulance I hear so clearly in front of Pop’s house. What the fuck?
“I want to know what’s happening. And I want to know now. I need to know what I can do to protect my family.”
“You’re doing it.”
“The hell you say. I’m not going to hide out in this barn while my home and my family are under… well, whatever the hell is happening. Don’t know who you think you’re dealing with Elias Finchley, but I’m not that girl.”
