Page 19 of Untamed

Cash is also carrying a concealed handgun. If I hadn’t been pardoned when I got out, I would’ve been on parole. Thank fuck I can actually carry a gun again because after the hell I experienced in prison, I’ll never walk this earth without the ability to protect myself and my family with a firearm.

“These men, you’re sure about them?” Sterling asks.

I look out the window at the passing dry terrain. “As sure as I can be about doing business with ex-cons.”

“You’re an ex-prisoner, brother,” Cash reminds me.

I flex my jaw, wondering why it feels like I somehow don’t belong out here with the regular civilians after doing time. The shit I saw, the bonds I had to form for survival, none of that shit could ever make sense on the other side of the bars.

“You trust these guys, Holden?” Sterling isn’t one to enjoy bending the law. Of the four of us, he’s the straight shooter.

Cash answers for me. “The Riders is an unofficial organization, and with how much they’ve grown, they’re worried it could draw attention from government authorities. Anytime someone is making big money they can’t tax, the government sniffs around, looking for a cut.”

I add to Cash’s explanation. “I heard from several sources on the inside that if they don’t start getting a voluntary cut, they’ll either shut it down or force it on us. If they force it on us, it means rules and regulations. That’s pointless, considering businesses like that already exist with the PBR and so many others. The Riders would most likely merge or crumble. That means the only remaining option is paying off the bulldogs sniffing around. We might not trust them, but we’re backed into a corner unless we’re prepared to lose half our income.”

Sterling grimaces, facing out the window. “I fucking hate the government.”

The Redford family has always had a very firm belief in small government. It’s partially due to our mother’s heritage and the fact that Tigua land was basically stolen from the original settlers of America. Our father agreed and raised us all to believe that the more power and control the government has, the less freedom we the people have. He was a founding member of The Riders, essentially passing it on to us boys as an extremely vital part of maintaining the Redford Ranch’s income.

With each tax bracket that we’ve climbed, the risks have grown. After only a few months behind bars, I learned that my name garnered respect from men I’d never known because my father was so anti big government. On the one hand, I’m very much for laws and lawmakers enforcing them, especially for people who don’t have the power or means to take matters into their own hands when it comes to protecting their family.

On the other hand, when it came down to protecting mine, I didn’t hesitate for even a moment before blowing the head off the man who tried to rape my sister.

I’m a bad guy, a lawbreaker, a rebel. But that doesn’t mean I don’t have fucking standards. I don’t think murder is okay in most circumstances. But I sure as hell think there are exceptions.

9

ROSIE

This bar is always too crowded, and the smell of cigarette smoke makes it one of my least favorite places to spend a Friday night. There are several reasons why I don’t normally frequent this place, but with Dolly’s recent confession and Holden’s sudden release from prison, I’m in the mood to drink a little too much in a sketchy place. She picked this spot, and tonight, I’d rather be anywhere than the ranch, where there’s a high chance of running into Holden like I did last Friday. I haven’t seen him since that night, and I hope my luck doesn’t run out while I’m inebriated yet again. The tension between us is becoming unbearable. He leaves every room once I enter, like he can’t tolerate being near me.

I’m not exactly sure what to make of our little exchange in the pantry or if my imagination was playing tricks on me. It’s been running through my head on repeat, which is driving me effectively mad. This is the type of thing I would normally confide in Dolly about, but she’s made it abundantly clear that she’s sick of feeling used by the women who are obsessed with Holden. Madi’s betrayal is fresh. I would never hurt my best friend, so the inconvenience of my attraction and contrary strong distaste for her brother are going to have to remain a silent suffering.

There’s an abundance of testosterone at Old Harry’s. There’s maybe one woman for every ten men. I’m wary of drinking too much more, although Duke agreed to stick to water and be our designated driver. I’m glad he’s here with us. I look down at my plain white shirt, hoping there are no mystery stains from all the tobacco spit I can smell going around. Thankfully, it’s still clean, and everyone seems a little too drunk to notice I’m not wearing a bra underneath.

“I can’t believe we’re having braless Friday here of all places,” I lean in to yell into Dolly’s ear over the music.

She giggles, shimmying her chest at me. We started the night off at the ranch—our usual spot for the tradition that we had kicked off in tenth grade. After we each drank our own bottle of wine, we were bored and tipsy, begging Duke to drive us to Old Harry’s. He only agreed because he was bored too. The rest of the Redford brothers hadn’t been around since I’d arrived today. I forced myself not to inquire about their whereabouts.

“Oh shit, it’s the third Friday of the month.” Dolly’s eyes widen. She looks around the bar that’s packed with people.

I follow her gaze, trying to see whatever it is she’s seeing. The few women in the bar are all wearing white T-shirts, just like me.

I tilt my head to the side. “What’s the third Friday?”

She points up to the stage, where a live Texas country band is playing. I look up, still confused.

One of the regular waitresses comes up beside us, ushering me toward the stage, where the other women are congregating.

“Let’s go, girls! It’s starting!”

I have no idea what the woman is talking about, resisting her efforts to usher me toward the front.

“What’s starting? Dolly, what’s the third Friday?”

Dolly starts giggling, covering her mouth as she lets go of my hand. “Go on! Maybe you’ll win! We could go on a shopping spree.”

I gawk at her, my head swimming with rosé and confusion. “Win what?”

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