Page 17 of Ruthless Enforcer

Warm light spills from the main house across the gravel as we approach. There are trucks parked outside. Smoke curling from a chimney. Not a compound. Not quite a fortress, despite everything hidden beneath its skin. A home.

"You're safe here, Clara." Gabriel pulls in behind a similar-looking SUV. "For tonight, anyway," he adds with a grin.

I look at the house again. Real people live behind those windows. People Gabriel trusts enough to bring me here. People his family owes enough to rebuild an entire ranch for them.

And somewhere behind us, a man I knew only as a failed candidate for governor has escaped custody and wants to use me to start a war.

For the first time since Gabriel walked up to me tonight, I'm not thinking about whether I'm safe. I'm wondering what bringing me here just did to everyone inside.

16

GABRIEL

Blackthorn Ranch is exactly where I need Clara Whitlock to be: behind a gate most people can’t get through, surrounded by men I admire, and far enough outside Iron Ridge that nobody accidentally wanders up the drive. More importantly, nobody knows I brought her here.

Yet.

I follow the long drive toward the house and find enough vehicles parked out front to tell me everyone’s home, with Mandy and her man, Hendricks, visiting. The lights are on inside, like they’re expecting us.

Of course they are. Hendricks can track anyone. Fuck—he probably knew I was coming here before I did. That man is eerie good.

Clara looks through the windshield at the sprawling ranch house. “This is the main house?”

“In all its heavily armed glory.” I pull in behind the Escalade I gave Luke after he gushed about mine. It’s spotless enough to suggest he loves it more than he’s willing to admit.

She cranes her neck to look out the window. “You said it was safe.”

“Those are largely the same thing in Iron Ridge.” Killing the engine, I step out, round the hood, and open Clara’s door.

She doesn’t hesitate. She takes my offered hand, sliding down from the leather seat with that quiet, ingrained grace that belongs to old money and iron discipline.

Then she straightens.

Fuck.

Moonlight catches porcelain skin and emeralds at her throat. My oversized sweatshirt skims her thighs, leaving an unreasonable amount of toned, bare leg beneath it. Her heels turn already long legs into a personal attack.

For the first time in my life, I understand why men start wars over women.

That’s particularly inconvenient, considering I brought her here to prevent one.

"Inside," I tell her, resting a palm lightly against the small of her back. I swear I can feel her skin through the fleece, and my fingers twitch with the need to slip under and touch her directly. "Keep close."

She doesn’t argue. She matches my pace across the yard despite the killer heels.

The front door opens before we reach it and Luke Bennett steps out, beer bottle dangling from one hand. His gaze lands on me first, then shifts to Clara beside me. His eyes take in the emeralds, the bare legs, and my sweatshirt.

Then they come straight back to me, and his eyebrows go up. “Please tell me you didn’t.”

I smile, but I know he sees the warning in it. “Depends what you think I did.”

“Knowing you? Something that requires lawyers.” He holds his fist out.

I bump it with mine. “Probably several.”

Clara looks between us. “Should I come back when you’ve finished establishing dominance?”

Luke grins. “I like her.”