“Careful,” I said, my mouth next to her ear.
Her body stilled in my arms, and softened against me. Her orange-scented shampoo wafted up into my nose and I found myself breathing the scent of her in.
“I should uhh…”
I released her. “Yeah. I need to go make a phone call.”
While she worked with the next horse, I headed back toward the house.
Inside the kitchen, I pulled out my phone and called the clubhouse.
The line clicked before Moose’s voice answered.
“Yeah?”
“It’s Tex.”
“About time you checked in.”
“What’s the word?”
There was a pause.
“We’re digging,” Moose said. “But nothing solid yet.”
“What about the old route through the ranch?”
Another pause. “Yeah, that's the same conclusion we came to.”
My grip tightened on the phone. “And?”
“As far as we know, only three guys knew about that route.”
My stomach turned. “Who?”
“JD, me…and Ink.”
I frowned. Ink had been in the club longer than anyone. He was the club secretary and knew exactly how much money the club had at any time. He ran a tight ship, counting out every penny and dime like his life depended on it. The man was like a father to me.
“No. Fucking. Way.”
“That’s what I said,” Moose replied, “but someone tipped the cartel off, and it sure as shit wasn’t me or JD.”
“Ink’s an original. He wouldn’t…” I stopped myself because I knew as well as anyone that temptation was a seductive bitch, and Ink, well, he was pushing sixty with no retirement plan in place. I could imagine how tempting an offer from the cartel could be.
The line went quiet for a moment, both of us lost in thought before finally Moose spoke.
“We’ll keep digging,” he said finally.
“Find someone else. Anyone else,” I said, and ended the call.
Something felt wrong about all of it. I ran a hand through my hair and turned toward the living room. That’s when I noticed the guitar. It was leaning against the wall beside the couch—old and slightly worn, but well cared for. It was probably Rowan’s dad’s. I picked it up out of habit, settling onto the couch as my fingers tested the strings.
It was still in tune and my hands moved automatically, strumming a slow, familiar chord, slowly at first and then with more confidence as my hands familiarized themselves with the instrument, and then music filled the quiet house.
Outside I could still hear Rowan working the horses.
And for a few minutes, just a few, the ranch felt like the safest place in the world.
