Trace shook his head, even knowing Sam couldn’t see it. “No postage. It looked hand-delivered. I’ve got the box in my truck. I want it dusted, I want it processed, and I want Wesley Zhou brought in for questioning. Tonight. He’s tied to Rios, and he’s been sniffing around Kip for weeks. You find him, you hold him, and you keep me in the damn loop every step of the way.”
Sam started asking questions, but Trace cut him off. “I’ve got another emergency out here, Sam. Possible brucellosis outbreak. The state vet’s probably already at the ranch. I’ll be tied up, but thisthreat against Kip doesn’t wait. You call me the second you have anything, Sam. Anything.”
Ending the call, he tossed the phone onto the seat and stared at the doll’s black, threadlike eyes until they blurred. With a groan, he ran his hands over his face. Two crises—one with his land, one with the woman sitting beside him, shaking so hard he could hear her teeth chatter.
God help him if push came to shove and he had to choose between the ranch and Kip, he would let every acre go up in flames before he let anyone touch her.
His phone buzzed again. Javi.
“Boss, that bison’s down again. It’s bad, Trace. The state vet’s ten minutes out.”
Trace closed his eyes. When he opened them, the snow was coming down harder, erasing the world one white layer at a time.
“Lock the gates,” he told Javi. “Nobody in or out until we figure out what we’re up against.” Or who.
Kip sat huddled against the door... pale, trembling, with her arms wrapped around herself. Something inside him hardened into a shape he recognized — the shape of a man who would burn the whole world down before he let anyone touch what was his again.
He put the truck in gear and headed toward the ranch, toward the probably dying cow, the contaminated feed, and whatever came next.
Trace stood in the vet barn doorway, snow swirling in every time the wind gusted, watching the state veterinarian draw blood from the shaking bison’s neck. Overhead, the fluorescents buzzed harsh white, turning the wet spots on the floor black. An hour later, his phone vibrated against his chest like a second heartbeat.
Sam Nelson.
Stepping outside, he pulled the door half-shut behind him. “Sam, tell me you have him.”
“We have him,” Sam said. “Picked him up on County Road 79 with a bag full of cash and a fake Canadian passport. He’s in holding and screaming for a lawyer, but I can give you ten minutes before the public defender shows. I know you want in on this, but I can’t delay them long.”
“I’ll be there in twenty minutes.” Ending the call, he turned around to see Kip standing right behind him, coat pulled tight, cheeks red from cold and fury.
“I’m coming, too,” she announced.
Chin already sticking out, she was geared up for a battle. It was one she wasn’t going to win. “No.”
“Daddy.” She stepped closer. “I can’t sit here waiting to find out if someone else is coming for me next. I’ll worry myself sick. Please, Daddy. Please take me with you.”
He looked at her, small and trembling, with eyes blazing, and the fight drained from him. “Fine. Let’s get you in the truck.”
They were halfway to town when it hit him: two attacks in one day. Ranch and Kip. What if Zhou in custody was the bait to lure them both into town? He jerked the wheel hard, turning toward the Broken Bridle so fast the back end fishtailed.
Kip braced a hand on the dash. “What are you doing?”
“Changing plans.”
He slid to a stop beneath the buzzing neon steer skull of the Broken Bridle. Tires crunched on fresh snow as he parked crooked across two spaces. He killed the engine, watching the neon OPEN sign flicker in the window, with half the letters already dead.
Inside, the jukebox was silent. The place reeked of strong beer and lemon polish. Running a white rag over already-clean glasses, Hank stood behind the bar, the silver in his beard shining under the overhead lights.
Without wasting time, he grabbed Hank’s elbow and pulled him toward the storeroom, updating him as they walked. Kip trailed two steps behind, arms locked tight around her ribs.
“Listen to me,” Trace said, voice low enough even the bottles wouldn’t hear. “She does not leave your sight. Not for a second. Bathroom, alley, office, nowhere. Anyone asks for her, anyone even looks at her wrong, you call me before you breathe. You get me?”
Hank took them both in. Trace waited, knowing what Hank would see. Kip stood pale as the snow outside, eyes too large for her face.
Trace held the older man’s gaze without flinching. Hank had known him since he was fifteen and running wild, so Trace knew Hank could read him.
“You go do whatever it is you gotta do. I’ve got her,” Hank said. Simple. Final.
Trace nodded once before turning to Kip. Tears already streamed down her face. It killed him to make her cry, but he had to put her safety first. Cupping her cold face with his good hand, he brushed his thumb across the track of her tears. “I need you to stay with Hank, babygirl. I promise I’ll tell you everything that is said. But if this is a trap, you can’t be there.”
