Mason didn’t spare me a glance. “I’m not happy with the angles. We need better coverage.”
I crossed over to stand beside him. A map of the ranch covered with notes lay on his desk. “I thought you adjusted the cameras last week.”
“I did, but it’s still not right. There are too many blind spots.”
“There’s been nothing from Vince since he disappeared three months ago. He would be foolish to come back with the sheriff looking for him.” I leaned against the worktable behind him and kept my voice casual when I asked, “And the existing security system is enough to keep anyone else out, isn’t it?”
“Yeah. The system is overkill for normal needs.” His fingers tapped out a rhythm on the desk. “But I don’t trust that he’s gone for good. He isn’t a quitter.”
“One of these days you’re going to need to tell us what went down between you two.” None of us had pushed him for answers, but we still wondered what had happened while theywere in the army together. “We should know why he’s targeting the ranch.”
Mason’s lips tightened, and he rubbed his thigh where he’d sustained an injury while away that even his shifter healing couldn’t fix. “The why doesn’t matter. All that matters is he’s likely to return to finish the job.”
I blew out a breath. Between my father and the threat of Vince hanging over everything, I was on high alert. It didn’t help that we had a constant stream of strangers visiting the dude ranch and art gallery. Any of them could have been hired to sabotage us.
I was the least trusting of all my brothers. I knew how the world outside the ranch worked. Even the most innocent face sometimes hid dark intentions.
Katie
I flipped through the thick file in front of me while the sullen teen boy slouched in the chair opposite me. Eli was fourteen and had spent his life bouncing between foster homes after being abandoned when he was around six months old. Normally, babies were adopted, but his file was full of reports that he’d been difficult to manage even then. He never lasted longer than a month with a family.
“I understand your current placement isn’t working out.”
He snorted but didn’t speak. His toe was tapping almost frantically, and he shifted in the chair, as if struggling to keep still.
“We’re running out of options, Eli.” I closed the file and set it aside, leaning forward. “You’ve been through most of the fosterfamilies in the area. Your last worker recommended you go to a group home. I don’t want that for you.”
His gaze slid to me.
Cases didn’t cross my desk until everyone else had given up. And far too often, nothing I did helped. But I refused to give up hope that the next time would be different. Reading Eli’s file had struck a chord in me; my intuition had me convinced there was something we all were missing.
I rested my elbows on my knees and clasped my hands together. “What I want doesn’t matter, though. What do you want?”
Eli’s brow furrowed, and the foot tapping slowed. His gaze on me held suspicion, but I thought I saw a flash of vulnerability before he steeled himself. Kids in Eli’s position had so little control over their lives. I doubted he’d ever been seriously asked what he wanted.
“If you want a group home, I’ll do my best to find one that’s a good fit. If you want a family, we can work towards that together. But the first step has to be yours.”
The silence between us stretched out. He crossed his arms and stared at the floor at my feet. The tapping increased, and he rolled his head, neck cracking. I stayed still, waiting for him to break the silence and give me some sign of what he was thinking.
“Whatever.” The word had hard edges and came out bullet-fast. “It won’t matter where I am.”
“Why do you think that?”
His lips thinned. “I won’t fit in. I never fit in.”
Inside, I was pumping my fist in victory that he’d opened up enough to tell me that. It was the start of a dialogue between us. Outside, I stayed calm, trying to project a soothing energy. “How so? If you can tell me more, I might find somewhere you’ll fit in better.”
His fidgeting now encompassed his entire body. He was like a caged animal, waiting to explode from the prison that was his skin. Maybe he needed an outlet. I could find a sport to exhaust the energy he seemed unable to contain. So many of the reports on him talked about his high energy, describing it as uncontrollable.
“What if?—”
He sprang out of his chair and paced my small office, shaking out all his limbs.
“Eli, are you okay?” My concern grew, sensing this wasn’t normal teen behavior. “Would you like to go outside for a bit and run around? There’s a park nearby.”
He shot me a frustrated look. “It won’t help.”
“What do you need from me?”
