Chapter One
Crew Diaz did not mean to drop exactly ninety-two crisp white envelopes on the ground. Or for them to scatter across the grass when the wind took them.
But it meant he was bent over picking them up when a shout brought his head up.
“Crew, look out! Hellhorn is on the loose!”
That name—Hellhorn—inspired fear in any person who heard it. But to a man bending over with his “goods” in a vulnerable position, it incited terror.
Snagging a letter off the grass, Crew whipped upright and twisted just in time to see the biggest, meanest, most evil goat on the Black Heart Ranch bearing down on him.
He did not mean to let out a scream like a little girl, or expect the woman looking on to burst out laughing, but she did.
With the envelopes gripped in a hand that was much sweatier than it had been a minute ago, he noted the angle Hellhorn lowered his head and the glint of red in his eyes.
“Quick, Crew! Over the fence!” Willow Malone Jansen‘s voice was a mixture of fear and amusement as she churned her arm like a windmill for him to run or risk the same injury that a lot of cowboys on the ranch had sustained.
Being head-butted by a giant goat wasnoton Crew’s list today.
He sprinted to the fence, planted his free hand on the top rail and vaulted over it like he medaled in men’s gymnastics.
He landed on the other side, breathing hard, and leaned against the rail for support he would never admit to needing.
The woman laughing her ass off at him was also the most skilled at distracting the goat and managed to urge Hellhorn into the nearest corral.
“You okay?” She tossed a look over her shoulder at Crew, making her long braid swish across her spine.
“Haven’t felt my blood pump that fast since last time Hellhorn came after me.”
She didn’t bother to hold back her laughter with him or any other man. Willow grew up with six brothers and didn’t care about male pride, which was one of the things that made her so likable to all the veterans in the Black Heart therapy program.
Crew looked down at the packet of letters slightly crumpled in his grip and shook his head. He crossed the small corral to the gate and let himself out.
Willow already had the goat locked up and strode across the grass to pick up more letters he’d dropped. He joined her, collecting the last of the envelopes on his way.
She drifted over to him, holding out the bundle. When their gazes met, her eyes danced with amusement.
“Thanks.” He took them. “I was just headed to the office to get more letters from Gray.”
The letters were addressed to the families of Navy officers who lost their lives in a tragic sinking of an aircraft carrier. It wasn’t Crew’s own trauma, but close enough, and for that reason he lent a hand in writing words of condolence.
“At least you won’t be bleeding when you walk in there.” She giggled again and pressed her fist to her mouth. “Sorry. It’s just that the look on your face…” She issued another giggle, and he joined in with a chuckle, imagining how he must have appeared.
“I’ll walk with you. And don’t worry—I won’t tell the guys you screamed like a little girl.”
“Gee, thanks.” Together, they set off toward the office. The Black Heart Security agency headquarters was located in the new addition to the family’s ranch house. When they walked in, the place was bustling with activity.
Crew felt his body respond to the noise, pulse shooting up a few extra beats. As a veteran in the therapy program, he had learned methods to calm himself down. But the noise and activity weren’t the only things making him edgy. Getting the letters from Gray meant he would be dropping them off at the post office, which meant possibly getting mail in return. Sometimes the families wrote replies, and those weren’t always easy to read.
The instant Willow walked in, her brother Denver looked up. “Just in time. I was about to come looking for you.”
“What’s going on?”
“There’s a rescue horse coming in an hour.”
“Crap. Then I need to move some horses around to make room for it.”
Denver gave her a hard nod. “If you need help, grab one of the vets.”
