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No more calm. No more thinking. I act. I bare my teeth and advance, grabbing the collar of his shirt to shove him backward off the porch, putting Ruby out of his sight.
And then I hit him with the crushing blow of a car crash, pinning him up against the side of my cabin.
Declan makes some type of huffy protest, but I shut him up real fast when I tighten my grip.
“Don’t look at her,” I growl, and his panicked eyes flick to mine. “Look at me and hear what I’m telling you. I’ll say it once. You think you know people? Iamthe people. Stay away from my land. Stay away from my family. You come on my property again and I won’t call the cops. I’ll take care of it right then and there. You think I have ten thousand acres just for cattle, you worthless piece of shit?”
With that, I leave the man sputtering in my gravel drive and storm inside, slamming the door behind me.
Seconds later, the sound of an engine.
Ruby’s at the island, her eyes glued to her phone. She’s trembling, her face pale, but her expression determined.
“Baby.” I go to her, wrapping her up in my arms. “You okay?”
“He’s a bad man, Charlie,” she whispers against my chest. “He’s the one who hurt Wyatt.”
I grip her chin and force her gaze to mine. “What did he say to you?”
“He didn’t say anything.”
I exhale and hold her tight, drawing comfort from the feel of her body, soft and safe in my arms.
Through the window, I see Davis’s cherry-red F-350 rumbling down the drive.
Fucking took them long enough.
“Charlie,” Ruby says in a voice that sends shivers down my spine. She stands straight, looking up at me. Her phone’s clasped to her heart. “I need to show you something.”
The living room is bathed in light. Whiskey bottles crowd the coffee table. Ford and Wyatt are sprawled out on the couch. Outside, thunder rumbles.
Davis paces behind the couch, his eyes on Ruby’s phone, on the photo of Declan Valiante.
Ruby stands shyly on the sidelines, back by the fireplace, until I murmur into her hair, “Sit down, Sunflower.”
She shakes her head. “This is family stuff.”
“You’re part of our family,” I tell her firmly, staring into her bright blue eyes. “Whether or not you like it.”
A beam of a smile hits her lips.
Davis lifts his hand. “Charlie, you just saw this?”
I rub my jaw. “I did.” I look at Ruby, her pretty face uncertain. “Tell ‘em, baby.”
Perching on the edge of the couch, Ruby spends the next ten minutes explaining the night she took the photo to all my brothers. She and Fallon in the back alley, watching the scene at the brothel, not knowing that the man in question was Declan Valiante.
I stand behind Ruby and cross my arms over my chest.
When she’s done, she puffs a lock of hair out of her face. “I didn’t know who he was,” she says. “I just took it.” Her nose wrinkles. “Blame Fallon.”
“Fuck,” Ford exhales, taking the phone from Davis.
The image is clear enough. It’s gold.
Declan Valiante with a woman at the brothel, pants around his ankles. No denying his trademark shock of silver hair, or the belt buckle shining bright with his family crest.
The same belt buckle that ties him to his wife and son.
