3
TEX
By the time we’d hauled the tools out of Rowan’s barn, the sun had burned off the last of the frost, leaving the air sharp but bright. She walked ahead of me, shoulders tight, jaw set, every line of her body saying ‘I don’t need you here.’ I’d seen that kind of posture before on men who’d been cornered too many times, on women who’d learned the hard way that asking for help came with a price.
But on her, it hit differently. She was fierce and stubborn, but underneath all that there was something else. Something brittle that she didn’t want anyone to see.
We reached the broken fence, and she dropped the toolbox with a thud. “I’ll take the posts,” she said. “You can handle the wire.”
I crouched beside the snapped line. “Are you always this bossy?”
“Do you always ask this many questions?”
“Do you always bite the hand that helps you?”
“That’s not a saying.” She rolled her eyes unfazed. “And do you always struggle to follow orders?”
I chuckled and held up my hands. “I’m following orders, sweetheart.”
She gave me a side-eye. “Good.”
I got to work, threading new wire through the eyelets, tightening it with practiced hands. I’d fixed more fences than I could count on club land, around safehouses, backroads where someone needed a boundary put back up. But this felt different, more important somehow. This wasn’t just land, this was her land, herlife.
And someone was trying to tear it apart.
I felt an undeniable protectiveness toward this woman I hadn’t even known twenty-four hours ago, a tug in my chest that said that something was about to change. Though within me or the club, I wasn’t sure.
I scanned the ground while I worked. There were footprints, heavy ones, leading toward the tree line. A cigarette butt was crushed into the dirt. It wasn’t hers or JD’s. I picked it up and scanned it, not recognizing the brand.
“You get a lot of visitors out this way?” I asked.
Rowan didn’t look up from the post she was setting. “Not the friendly kind, no.”
“Anyone specific?”
She hesitated. Just a flicker, but I caught it. “No one worth naming.”
That was a lie. Not a big one. Just protective. She didn’t trust me enough yet to hand over the truth.
I tightened the wire, testing the tension. “You know,” I said, keeping my voice even, “if someone’s targeting you, I’ll find out who they are eventually, but it would all go a hell of a lot quicker if you’d tell me anything you know.”
She stepped closer, chin lifted, and she pointed a finger at my chest. “I’ve been doing just fine taking care of this ranch until now. I don’t want you or anyone else thinking I’m someone whoneeds saving, or worse, someone who needs protecting,” she scoffed.
“I don’t think that,” I said. “I can see that you can handle yourself. But sometimes a little help is good. Like now. I can help you fix this fence. And I can help find out who’s cutting it and put a stop to it. Tothem.”
She opened her mouth, ready to argue again, but something in my tone must’ve landed. She closed it, exhaling hard.
For a moment, the only sound was the wind moving through the dry grass.
Her gaze drifted toward the mountains, like she was looking for an escape route. I followed her gaze, and that’s when I saw it.
A glint of metal near the base of a tree.
I walked toward it, Rowan trailing behind me. When I crouched and brushed away the dirt, my stomach dropped.
A Kings of Anarchy Colorado chapter pin, dirty and scuffed from years of wear.
Rowan’s breath hitched behind me. “That’s your club’s.”
