Page 11 of Downpour

I tried to rip the damn thing open, but I couldn’t pinch the envelope.

The rope was fine. It was half an inch thick. Paper was thin, and I didn’t have the dexterity to hold it and tear it open.

Unlike Christian, who would have opened the envelopes and laid out the pages, Cassandra left them sealed. Deliberately.

I managed to get my pocket knife open and sliced open the letter. The cool handle pressed against my palm as I slid the knife down and pressed my thumb behind the blade.

The sound of boots thudding against the wooden ramp outside startled me. The knife twisted in my hand and the sharp edge slid across the pad of my thumb.

“Shit,” I hissed and yanked my hand away. Crimson droplets spattered across the crisp white paper and onto my lap, staining my sweatpants.

Just fucking great.I quickly pressed my thumb to my shirt to stop the bleeding.

The doorknob clicked and the door creaked open.

Christian halted in his tracks at the sight of me before rushing over in a panic. “What the hell happened to you? Cassjustleft.”

“Accident,” I muttered. “Why’re you here?”

“Just checkin’ on you,” he said. He grabbed the knife, wiped it off, closed it, and turned toward my bedroom. “Sit tight. I’ll grab a change of clothes for you.”

“Don’t want ‘em.”

Christian paused with his hands braced on the bedroom door frame. “We’ve gotta talk about this.”

“Don’t you have a ranch to run?” I said as I gingerly slipped my hand between the folded piece of paper and opened it up to see what my former manager had sent over. Marty would just have to deal with the bloodstains. “What did you do all fucking day when I was in Colorado and riding the circuit?”

There were days where all I wanted was to saddle up and ride through the plains until I couldn’t see anything or anyone. I was jealous of CJ, the youngest of the four of us. He got to ride away from it all.

I had tried to do that. I tried to leave it all behind.

“I worry about people all day,” Christian said. “Bree, Gracie, Cass, and the ranch used to be at the top of that list. Now it’s you.”

I bristled at the mention of my nieces. At one point in time, they had been like my own daughters.

When Christian’s wife died and Nate was deployed, I’d stepped in to help Christian with his girls, Bree and Gracie. Those two girls were my world.

To them, I was Superman.

Invincible and indestructible.

I stared at the table so he couldn’t see the hurt boiling in my eyes. My hair hung over my face. I was long overdue for a trim.The shaggy mane was making me resemble Christian more with each passing day.

He sighed. “I know this sucks for you.”

It sucks? Was he fucking kidding me?

A caustic laugh escaped me. “Really? I wasn’t aware. Thanks for letting me know.”

“Ray—”

“Fuck off,” I said as I reached for the pen. I fisted it and jammed the end against the table to open it up. Slowly, I managed to scribble something that vaguely resembledRay Griffith.

The three letters of my first name were a sloppy, childlike scrawl—wonky, misshapen, and inconsistent in size and spacing, sprawling across the entire signature line.

Christian watched from the other side of the room. “Why’d you fire Maude?”

Maude? What kind of name was that?

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