by Cat Miller
“I didn’t want to worry you or Kennedy. Dad has been out of control for a while now. The last time some mobster from Vegas contacted me they had Dad and they were going to return him in pieces if we didn’t pay off his loan plus interest.”
Kennedy gasped. Mills winced.
“I had no choice. And that wasn’t the first time. Every time he disappears, we lose money. Lots of money. There’s no cash left. We need the cash from next month’s sale just to keep the operation moving. The hands need to be paid, feed needs to be purchased for the winter, and the vet won’t come back out here until he’s paid up.”
Everly was in shock. Mills had been holding all of this in. He’d been carrying the weight of this stress alone while she was off joy riding with Tinsel and planning a huge party for Kennedy’s graduation. She should have known something was wrong.
“What can we do?” she asked.
“There’s nothing left. To pay this off we’d have to sell off a large plot of land and let go of half our hands to stay afloat now. I’ve been in contact with the lawyers. That’s another bill to pay. I really don’t see a way out of this mess.”
Everly went to the counter and poured herself a cup of coffee just to have something to do. As she poured in the sugar she asked, “Is it even legal for Dad to use the ranch as collateral?”
“He is the owner/operator until he dies or passes everything down to me legally. That’s what I’ve been working on. We need Dad declared incompetent in order for me to take over. He won’t hand it over voluntarily. I’ve tried. He’s too busy bleeding us dry to let it go!” Mills shouted at their father. He took a deep breath. “This is his land, his company.” Mills looked so defeated with his shoulders slumped in his torn work shirt. Kennedy was looking down at their father with tears in her big beautiful eyes. Neither of them could stand to see Kennedy hurt. The fire returned to Mills’ eyes, and he shouted to the ceiling.
“He can abandon it, sell it, gamble it, or set it on fire if he likes! It’s his property! If he wants to use it as collateral against a loan or stakes in a bet and he signs the legal documents it’s perfectly legal!”
Dean Parker moaned and tried to sit up. He glared at Mills and spit blood on the clean floor.
“I’m gonna kill the son-of-a bitch!”
Mills made to attack his father again. Kennedy squealed and scampered backward. Everly slumped into the only remaining chair. She wouldn’t try to stop Mills this time. She might just help him.
TWO
Everly had packed a bag and was heading out for Vegas at the crack of dawn. They’d had a long talk with their father the night before after he and Mills were done pounding on each other. The man whom he’d signed the ranch over to was a sophisticated criminal who covered his ass. He ran a hugely successful legitimate business to cover his underground gambling club. The club was impossible to get into without references and a massive amount of paperwork. Her father had a few gambling buddies who were members and had vouched for him. What kind of people was he running with?
Membership required background checks that were more to keep out the cops than the bad guys. There was a financial inquiry as well. This club wasn’t for the casual weekend gambler out for a thrill in Vegas. It was for the big dogs whom had money to burn and no problem with leaving it behind. There were bars where the waitresses and waiters were also on the menu for a substantial price, if the server was willing. There were even areas for people who liked BDSM or simply to be voyeuristic in the farther reaches of the club where Dean Parker hadn’t been allowed yet.
It was weird and pretty gross to think of her dad in that light, but he was drunk and feeling chatty about his time in Hell. Hell. That was the name of the private gaming club. Everly was a fan of historic period romance. She wondered if the name choice had anything to do with the gaming hells she’d read about in so many British romance novels. There were upper hells where Lords and the wealthy would gain membership, and lower hells for the common folks, even lesser hells entertained the underbelly of society. The club her father had been a member of seemed to fit the description of them all. Anyone was welcome. Anyone wealthy enough and dirty enough that is.
After a fitful few hours of sleep, Everly decided it was up to her to go straighten this all out. She’d told her sister she would take care of everything, hadn’t she? She’d never lied to Kennedy, and she wouldn’t start now.
“I won’t allow this.” Mills scowled down at her from the porch that wrapped around their house. The house that wouldn’t belong to them for much longer if someone didn’t do something, and soon.
“I don’t remember asking for your permission, big brother.” She scowled back, but inside she was smiling.
God she loved her brother. He was the best man she’d ever known. This ranch was his life. He was born to love this land and care for the people who depended on them for their livelihood. He’d earned the chance to make the ranch and business their forefathers built, the empire it was capable of becoming under his expert management. Mills had been well on his way to making it a reality. They had more cattle than the ranch had ever owned before. The switch to organic had been a risk that paid off tenfold. The organic raising of cattle was more intensive but worth it when they went to market.
Mills Parker was a real cowboy with a business degree and the drive to use it. He was bringing the ranch into the twenty-first century. She was going to fight for their ranch, for their future, but mostly for her brother and sister. Her mother would never have sat back and let the wolves circle the wagons, and neither would Everly.
She knew he hated the idea of her going off to confront this Mr. L. Christianson, but he had to be here to move the herd in from the far-east pasture before the sale in just over a month. There was a lot of work to be done and not enough hands to do it.
“Just what do you think you’re going to do, Everly?” He came down from the porch and pulled out the bag she’d just put into the truck. “Are you going to ask the nice mobster to ‘please give back your daddy’s ranch?’” He’d said that last part in a high-pitched girly whine. She was offended. She’d never whined like that in her life. Okay, not often anyway, and certainly not in the past five years.
“He’s not a mobster, Mills. Mobsters don’t contact you through their lawyers to deliver legal documents. They mail you your father’s limbs.” She grabbed the bag and put it back in the truck.
“Legitimate businessmen don’t accept a family business as collateral from an addict.” He grabbed the bag and put it back on the porch.
“Really? What exactly do they do when you need a loan at the bank? Oh yeah. They mortgage your home or your business. And I’m not saying the prick isn’t crooked. I just don’t think it sounds like a mobster or a loan shark.” She picked up the bag and put it back in the truck. She was starting to get dizzy now.
“Yes, they do, and they also let you make payments on the loan. The bank doesn’t refuse all offers of repayment and demand the property instead.” He ripped off his hat and threw it to the ground. “Damn it, Everly! I can’t let you run off and confront a man like this! What if . . . what if . . .” Mills turned away from her with his hands on his lean hips.
This was the heart of it. Mills wanted to protect her like he always had. He’d hidden the problem with their dad from her until it was too late. Who would’ve thought that the card games their dad had played at the kitchen table with their mom and occasionally the cowboys would lead to this? Now Mills was afraid she’d be hurt or worse, trying to save them all from ruin. She wrapped her arms around his chest from behind and squeezed him tight. When they were younger, she could hug him around the shoulders but he was far too tall for that now. He was the man of their family, and he wanted to be the one to make this right.
“I love you so much,” she told him. He was stiff for a moment before relaxing and patting her hands. “I have to do this. You can’t leave the ranch now.”
He turned, and she was forced to release him. He looked do
wn at her with concern and resignation in his eyes. “What’s the plan? What are you going to do? He won’t take my calls. What if you get out there and he won’t see you?”
“Then I’ll come home and we’ll start packing I guess, but I won’t be turned away easily. I can promise you that.”
Mills grinned. He knew her stubborn streak well. “And if he does see you, then what?” he asked.
“I’ll try to work out a payment plan.”
“And if that doesn’t work?” Mills’ expression clearly said he believed she was wasting her time. She mostly likely was, but she had to try.
“Then I’ll try plan B.”
“Which is?” he arched an eyebrow.
“I’m still working on plan B.”
* * *
The bedside phone rang and jarred Luc awake. He had to dislodge Jessie . . . Jenny . . . Jill . . . whomever she was, from his chest to answer the annoying ring. Only two people knew this number, and neither Rourke nor Dolce used it unless absolutely necessary.
“Yeah,” he answered.
“We have an issue down at The Inferno,” Rourke replied.
Luc waited for a better answer. He couldn’t believe he’d been woken for a security issue. If so, he needed to reevaluate Rourke’s ability to fulfill his position. He was paying Rourke a small fortune to deal with anything and just about everything to do with security.
“There’s someone demanding to see you. We turned her away but she refused to go quietly. I forwarded some footage of her antics to your phone. She was escorted from the building. She then proceeded to pace the sidewalk shouting about illegal gambling clubs and mobsters who stole land from good God fearing ranchers.” Rourke’s usual cool monotone was leaking a hint of frustration. This was why there were very few female club members. Women were insane for the most part and neither of them liked dealing with drama that ended in female tears.
Luc sat up and grabbed his phone to have a look at the security footage. Becky . . . Barbie . . . Brenda . . . whatever her name was, complained and rolled over. Damn, how had his boxers ended up hanging from the door handle?
Luc watched a young, petite, redhead with stormy eyes and a foul mouth be escorted to the doors by two members of his security staff. Several patrons looked on, horrified, as the larger of the two guards twisted her arm behind her back to get her moving. She wasn’t being violent, but she refused to leave. She was screaming about being assaulted as they dragged her away. She was disrupting the peace on his floor and making a rather loud scene. That was unforgivable but he didn’t like seeing a woman be manhandled. Especially in his house. That was another reason for allowing very few women in Hell. Often force was required of his security team. If a lady got out of line, his men, who were mostly ex-military, didn’t relish the idea of roughing up a lady. It just didn’t happen in his house if he could prevent it. Carefully selecting the few women allowed to join was the best way to prevent it.
The footage switched to the front of the building where the same redhead in holey low-cut jeans and a tank top marched back and forth informing the people coming and going from the casino that it was owned by a “slimy crook who crushes good, God fearing families under his Armani boots.” He almost smiled at that. Almost.
This was clearly the daughter of Dean Parker. He’d received endless and progressively more annoying messages from one Mills Parker over the last week. It seemed Parker’s kids weren’t as weak-minded as their father. Too bad. It was a shame to have to crush all that righteous spirit.
“I retrieved the lady and brought her into the security offices,” Rourke continued. “I didn’t think it would be wise to call the locals while she’s still raging about illegal gambling and prostitutes.”
“If it were a man, well, I could deal with this a little differently,” Rourke explained. A man would have found himself waking up in the desert after a thorough ass kicking if he dared cross Rourke.
Rourke was correct. They didn’t need local law enforcement nosing around. This was an issue that required Luc’s special attention.
“Bring her up to my office. I’ll be down in a few.” He hung up the phone and went to jump in the shower. Dealing with the woman sleeping in his bed . . . well, that was another issue he needed to quickly remedy.
When Luc reached his office, he found Rourke looking exasperated and the redheaded Fury examining the art on his walls. He suspected she was very similar to the mythical creatures who hunted those who committed crimes against the moral order of the world. Only this Fury came in a much prettier package.
“You’d think a man with so much wouldn’t need a measly little ranch.” She peered closer at the portrait hanging behind his desk. It was his favorite. The black and white drawing was of a corseted woman in a blindfold. She stood before an ornate grandfather clock, her legs crossed and her hands behind her back. It was sexy and elegant all at once. He often wondered what the artist was trying to tell him. His guest seemed to be just as captivated by the piece.
“I’d hardly call a four thousand acre, multimillion dollar property that supports a company worth even more, a ‘measly little ranch,’ Ms. Parker,” he retorted.
She spun around and quickly covered her surprise and obvious dismay at his knowledge of her home.
“I’m sure it’s a drop in the bucket compared to the empire you have here.” She spread her arms wide to encompass the building and the club within.
“True though that may be, every empire begins as a grain of sand.” Luc crossed the room and stared down at the surprisingly lovely little Fury. She was standing behind his desk. So he glared her down until she scurried around to the other side of his massive desk. “That’s quite a pile of sand you have out there in Colorado. I suppose I should say I have out there in Colorado.” He relaxed back into his chair and prepared himself for a show. “Please do have a seat, Ms. Parker. You’ve come all this way to see me. Let’s make ourselves comfortable, shall we?”
“I’d rather stand.” She crossed her lean arms under her breasts and scowled at him.
Luc worked hard not to notice the swell of her voluptuous breasts thrusting up from her pink tank top, but it was a chore. He was trying to decide if she’d come dressed to entice or to make him feel pity for a simple little cowgirl. She certainly wasn’t dressed to impress, but the way those jeans hugged her tight little ass and rose to her hip bones, was an invitation to admire the smooth skin of the rather muscular abdomen that wasn’t completely hidden by her snug shirt. It was clear she wasn’t just an idle female on the family ranch. No, this woman –and she was a woman, though at a distance on the video, Luc had assumed she was much younger given her stature and delicate features– played a very active role in the running of the ranch. She was toned and her skin was a warm bronze from spending time in the sun. Given her red hair, Luc was surprised to see no more than a small trail of freckles marching across her little nose.
“I’m surprised you know who I am, Mr. Christianson.”
“Your father is the only ‘God fearing rancher’ who ever signed over his property to me so I could ‘crush his family under my Armani boots,’ Ms. Parker. Of course, I know who your father must be. I believe your anger is misplaced. Your behavior here today clearly demonstrates a relationship between yourself and the man who tossed away his family home and business on the blackjack table,” he replied sarcastically.
The Fury’s blush spread from her breasts all the way up her neck and over her quite exquisite face. He really had to stop looking at those pretty breasts.
“I’m here to work out a payment plan to pay off his debt.” Her left eye twitched, and Luc knew he’d see blood if she bit her tongue any harder. She was dying to rip into him.
“I’m afraid that won’t be possible, Ms. Parker. What’s done is done.”
She slammed her small hands on his desk and let her venom fly.
“You took advantage of a man who is clearly ill, Mr. Christianson. He has an addiction! What kind of person does a thing
like that? But I guess the fact that you are indeed a filthy fucking criminal should explain it all!” she shouted across the expanse of his desk.
Rourke stepped closer because the Fury looked ready to launch herself at Luc. Luc could feel his temper rising. He took a slow deep breath and got to his feet. “I’m the kind of criminal that is done with this ridiculous conversation.” He buttoned his jacket and strolled purposefully for the door. There was no sense in denying her accusation. He was a bad man, and he well knew it. She was lucky it was him she’d come to lash with that sharp tongue. The other lenders in town would have killed her by now just to teach her father a lesson. “See her out, Rourke. Take her to the airport. If she returns, call the locals.”
“Yes, sir.” Rourke gently grasped the Fury’s upper arm.
“Good, call the cops!” She shrugged off Rourke’s hold and pursued Luc out into the hallway. “I can’t wait to tell them about the illegal activity going on here! Exactly how much do prostitutes make these days? And how do you keep your unlawful business practices a secret? I’m sure the cops will figure that all out, Mr. Christianson,” she said his name like it was a title he didn’t deserve. Like the suffix ‘mister’ was so far above a man like him.
Luc was done being polite to the insane little cowgirl. He turned and forced her back into the office by sheer force of will. He advanced on her, and she quickly scampered backward.
“Here’s how this is going to go, Ms. Parker. You’re going home now, today, right this moment. If you make a sound, even a peep on your way out of town, I will do far more than just take possession of the property I obtained legally,” he stabbed a finger toward her to emphasize the fact that he was within his rights on that matter, “from your piece of shit father! You have no idea who you’re up against, Ms. Parker. I know your father owes quite a few more lenders around town. I will be sure they know exactly where to find him if you continue to test my lenience.”
