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I stay silent, hating that I’m an asshole who keeps dredging up the past.

“I don’t like the look in your eyes.” Vaughn’s thick brows knit together in worry. “Dwelling on it won’t do you or this distillery any good.”

“I need to know the truth.”

I’d bet the ranch it was the Hales. By then, Granger Hale had the cops in his pocket, and he and my father were feuding over water rights to the falls. But it makes no difference if I’m wrong or right. Because whether it was a Hale or a stranger they’re ending the same way.

With a bullet to the fucking brain.

It’s not the right way, to live by the sword, but my parents deserve a better end than what they got.

I make a disapproving sound. “I thought you wanted to know.”

Vaughn should want it just as bad as me. His brother was killed. He’s the one who found the bodies. Who called to tell me they were dead. The tears in his voice, the doubt, the disbelief, still haunt me.

My uncle sips his whiskey. “Hell, I want the truth too, Cole, but what would your mama think of you spending all this time and energy on their deaths? It’s been eighteen years. Let ghosts lie.”

I drill a big finger on the table. “It’s not finished. It’s not finished until I find who did it.”

He clears his throat. “You keep looking for the sword, one day that sword’s going to find you.”

Vaughn shakes his head, but the shake changes to a full-on swivel when his attention drifts to the window. Tires crunch gravel. The flash of headlights.

The two of us watch as Delilah slips out of a cherry-red Pinto. She walks gracefully on those high heels, long legs moving to her trunk.

“That her?” Vaughn asks, a smile tugging at his lips. “Your new ward.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose, cursing River once more. “Not mine.”

My thoughts drift back to today. Delilah lounging in that deck chair and giving me hell. The touch of her small hand in mine had me feeling like I might forget to let her go.

A dancer, she had said. Fuck. What kind of dancer?

Don’t know why I’m kidding myself. It’s obvious by the clothes, the shoes, that gorgeous toned body, that flirty little smile, exactly what kind of dancer she is. I grind my teeth at the thought. I’m not surprised by much these days…but fuck…a stripper?

At the thought of her dancing—dancing for me—sexy lingerie hugging her curves just right, that wild honey-blond hair up all around us, my cock jumps in my jeans.

“We met her today.” My uncle’s voice drags me from my daze. “She and Ezra sure looked good together.” His eyes crinkle, mischief in his craggy features.

Jesus, I’m not interested in her. She’s too young for me. The last thing I need to do is babysit. But my uncle’s words send fire through my bloodstream.

Today, at the distillery, I couldn’t miss her. Every time I looked up, she was there. Curiosity etched across her delicate features. And at the same time, she’s feisty. Even when I was an asshole about her clothing, she was unwilling to back down.

“Ezra’s got too much on his damn plate,” I growl. “The last thing he needs is a woman.”

“Might agree with you there.” Vaughn rises from the table and clasps my shoulder. “Till tomorrow, kid.” How we say goodbye in our family. Hopeful for another goddamn day.

I nod. “Till tomorrow.”

I wait until he’s gone. Then, standing, I grab my black Stetson from the counter and pound out the front door and down the steps.

Shoulders rigid, jaw tight beneath the shadow of my hat, I storm toward her.

That baby blue slip dress lets me see every slender curve of her petite frame. On her leg, a blue silk garter embroidered with her name. She wore that into town? Christ. I can only imagine the rumors.

Delilah pops her head up from the trunk, staring right at me. “You come with guns a-blazing, cowboy?”

In the moonlight, her eyes are huge, liquid brown and mesmerizing. She’s feminine, soft and delicate. Not tall, not short, fit, pretty. Gorgeous if I’m honest. She walks with ease in her high heels on the gravel.