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In two larges strides, he’s planting his muscled body in front of me.
“You get one minute,” Davis calls out.
The rest of his brothers hang back, arms crossed, stances defensive.
Then Charlie takes the first swing.
I jump and clap my hand across my mouth.
Charlie’s brick of a fist connects with Colton’s jaw, sending the kid crashing against the door of the tack room. Colton doesn’t even try to fight back. He stands there, stunned, plastered to the wall for support. Blood trickles from his nose, his eyes glassy with pain.
Before Charlie can get in a second punch, I step in front of him.
His eyes flash, but he drops his fist at my appearance. “Ruby. Don’t make me put you over my shoulder.”
Charlie’s voice has dropped to an unearthly authoritative growl, and my stomach clenches. I hate that it turns me on.
“No.” I cross my arms, drawing myself up tall. I press a hand against his rock-hard chest, pushing him back, ignoring the amused smiles Wyatt and Ford trade. “You can’t hear what Colton has to say if you break his face.”
Our gazes lock, war.
“She’s got a point,” Ford says mildly, swaggering inside. Seeing the baseball bat in the corner of the room, he gives me a nod of approval.
Charlie swipes the back of his hand over his brow like I’m making him sweat.
Maybe I am.
“Listen to him,” I order, scanning the brothers. “All of you.”
They need to know what I know.
“Let’s get comfortable, asshole.” Wyatt kicks out a feed bucket.
Ford grabs Colton’s arm and slams him down on the makeshift seat. The Montgomerys surround him, looking like executioners.
Colton’s eyes lift desperately to me like he doesn’t know where to start.
“Don’t look at her,” Charlie growls through his clenched jaw. The icy mask of rage he wears has me going still. “She won’t help you. Look at me and tell me what you did.”
All at once, adrenaline leaves me. My breath is a shaky hitch and right before my legs can turn to jelly, Charlie wraps an arm around me, steadying me against him.
“Go on,” I tell Colton. “Tell them what you told me.”
Colton swipes at his busted lip. “The woman in the video of Ford ...she’s my mom.”
Ford jerks back with an expression of shock.
“And my father ...” Colton gulps. “He’s Declan Valiante.” His whisper lands like a grenade.
“Holy shit,” Wyatt breathes.
Wide-eyed, the brothers share stunned glances. Charlie squeezes me against him tight, like he’ll never let me loose, like it’s all he can do to control his fury.
I know the feeling. It was sabotage, coming from inside the house. The most prominent developer in Montana, a man running for office, sent goons—his own son—to sabotage small-town ranches.
Sighing, Colton continues. “We thought if I got a job here, if my mom posted that video, we could sabotage the ranch from the inside. If it got bad press, it’d force you to fall behind in payments. And you’d either default or sell to DVL.”
“Underbid by about two million bucks, bud,” Ford says.
