Not that we’re lacking in that department.
But it never hurts to have someone bigger watching your back.
Still, this thing with Ace?
That’s mine. It’s personal.
Always has been.
And now—now there’s something else layered into it.
Someone else.
Esme.
My jaw tightens.
If she’s got someone stalking her?
If someone’s already escalated to breaking into her place?
Then this isn’t just coincidence.
This isn’t just bad timing.
This is a real threat.
And I don’t like threats I don’t understand.
Especially not ones that circle around something—someone—I care about.
The thought hits me clean and sharp.
Care about.
Yeah.
That hasn’t changed.
No matter how much I tried to kill it.
Something clicks into place in my head.
It’s not clean and simple, but it’s solid enough to build on.
A plan.
Because I know two things for damn sure. First, I need to figure out the truth about Esme.
And I need to keep her safe while I do it.
And second, I have to stop my asshole sperm donor from targeting Jersey Iron Ranch just because I rejected his feeble attempts at parenting me when I was a teenager.
And I think, well, maybe I can do both at the same time.
While my thoughts are spinning, the day is moving. Sawyer’s already gone outside and I walk out to find him.
I step out into the morning light, spotting Sawyer leaning against the fence, talking with Diego about feed rotation.
