Page 89 of Branded Betrayal

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Blaze

My hands shake as I grip the steering wheel, foot pressing hard on the gas. I try to draw in a breath, but my lungs feel like they’re being squeezed by thick and unforgiving chains.

Because of me, Miss Bea, the animal Savannah loved most on this ranch, is dead. Gone. Because I allowed myself to fall into a trap where I will only ever do more harm than good.

Labored breaths have my heart pounding relentlessly in my chest. I swing the steering wheel to the right, tires screeching to a stop as I brake hard. My fingers find the neckline of my T-shirt. I tug at it, pulling it away from my body, blood rushing between my temples.

I’m becoming my fucking father, using people to save myself from facing all the guilt and anger plaguing me every day of my damn life.

I don’t know how long I sit here for. Feels like days pass before my phone buzzes on the seat next to me.

With a quick look, I feel my stomach free-fall.

Wilkerson.

I pick up the phone and stare at his name. But even if I don’t answer, he’ll find me some other way. He’ll track me to the ends of the damn earth to do his filthy fucking jobs. So I click the Accept button.

“What?” I try for gruff and in control, but who the hell am I kidding?

“Saw the pictures you sent of that fence. Nice work.”

“Great,” I respond through gritted teeth. “What do you want?”

“I’m tired of you half-assing this, Hartman. I gave you an order, and you’re fucking it up, dragging it out, and pissing me the hell off.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’ve been doing what you asked.”

“It’s taking too long. I gave you a timeline. Two weeks. Complete chaos. And so far, you’re failing.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” I yell. “Her livestock were scattered across three different properties today. One of her cattle was hit by a truck and needed to be put down. Others were hurt and needed medical attention. What the hell more do you expect?”

“Don’t test my patience any more than you already are. I want that ranch on the verge of collapse. Do the damage and walk away. Break her, Hartman. Or I will.”

Click.

I squeeze my eyes shut, the stress knot lodged at the base of my skull throbbing, echoing between my temples.

The vet’s face floats into my mind. His stupid shit-eating grin, the glasses I’d love nothing more than to knock off his smug-ass face.

He’s always around. Always ready and willing to lend a helping hand. Always a thorn in my side.

Back at Red Rock, he looked at me like he has the upper hand, like he’s the fucking chosen one. There was a challenge in the smug bastard’s eyes. I know what I saw.

And I didn’t like it.

My lips twist like I’ve just tasted shit, and I know I’m projecting. I just don’t give a damn.

Rage floods my insides. I jerk the steering wheel to the left and stomp on the gas, heading toward the center of town. Burgess said he had some house calls, but maybe he went back to his office first, for supplies or whatever the hell else.

Red floods my vision as I speed down the highway, glaring at the sunshine streaming through my windshield. It’s a beautiful day for a good ass kicking.

His office is across from Brixton’s General Store. A bitter smile lifts my lips when I see his silver Ram backed into a spot out front.

I stick my hat back on and get out of the truck. My boots hit the ground hard, like I imagine they would if his head was under them.

Stalking toward the office door, I stiffen at the sound of Mrs. Brixton’s voice talking to someone behind me.