“Rowan, if it’s not legit, that shit’s not going to show up on your accounts.”
I held his gaze for a moment. I was shaking my head in denial, but something in my gut wouldn’t let me voice my concern. Because what if he was right? What if my father—my uptight, law-abiding, church-going member of the community—had done something he shouldn’t have? I liked to think that I knew my father, but there was no denying that over the years we had drifted apart.
Could I really trust him to have made the right call?
Tex looked at me again. Something fierce burned in his eyes now. Something protective and dangerous. “You’re not staying alone on that ranch tonight.”
“I can take care of myself, Tex.”
His jaw flexed. “Not from this, and not from these men.”
“I’m not running,” I said defiantly.
“You’re not running,” he said quietly, and his gaze held mine, “but you’re not facing this alone either.”
The way he said it made something in my chest tighten.
I opened my mouth to argue. But the words never came. Because for the first time since the threats began, since that black SUV appeared behind me in the mirror, since my parents had died, I didn’t feel alone anymore.
And that scared me almost as much as the danger I was in.
