Page 75 of Rough Ride

“We were called back that night because someone had mutilated a cow.”

He glanced around the room, settling his attention back on Crysta. “I didn’t have anything to do with that. Why would I? What would I gain?”

“You would make your stepfather very happy,” Eli said.

“And why would I want to do that? The bastard hasn’t talked to me in years. And why would mutilating a cow do anything for him, other than giving him some kind sick thrill? And, don’t get me wrong, Sam is that sick.”

Crysta knew Sean was telling the truth. “You had to have heard about the will.”

When he said nothing, Eli continued. “If Crysta leaves, I lose the ranch. It goes to a trust for charities. They sell it off.”

Sean frowned. “And? Sam has no money.”

“But you do,” Dillon pointed out. “I’ve only gotten into some of your accounts, not all of them. But you’re loaded, Kaheaku.”

“I’d give my money to St. John before I would give any to my father,” Sean ground out.

The three of them shared a look. Crysta knew without a doubt that was true. He wasn’t going to give his stepfather anything.

“And the shots fired,” Crysta said. “That wasn’t you?”

He shook his head. “No. Believe me, if I was aiming for you, you would be dead.”

The absolute certainty in his voice was easy to hear.

“You can also believe, I wouldn’t give that bastard any money, so there’s no way he would get the ranch with my help.”

“I believe him,” Dillon said.

“Dammit. I do too.”

She could tell that was hard for Eli to admit, but she agreed too. Sean wasn’t telling them the whole truth, but he also wasn’t lying about his hatred of Sam. It was odd. From what Eli had said, they had been so close when he was younger.

“And this contract work, what was it?” Eli asked.

Sean glanced toward Crysta, then to Dillon before settling on his gaze on Eli. “What the hell? Okay, I was Special Forces for a few years, but didn’t really like taking orders—or the pay. I’m sure you understand, St. John.”

He said nothing. She wondered how many people knew Eli had been Special Forces. From the look on his face, not that many, and he wasn’t that happy about Sean knowing now.

“No comment?” Sean asked, a cynical smile twisting his lips. “Well, I didn’t last. I was sick of putting my ass on the line for so little pay.”

“You sold out and became a mercenary?” Dillon asked.

“No. I’m not a mercenary. I never liked that part of the job. What I do is surveillance, sometimes up close and personal.”

“In Indonesia?” he asked, skeptical.

“Or Japan, Korea…I even spend a lot of time in your old stomping grounds. St. John.”

“So, you work in Australia?”

He nodded. “A time or two, but my looks make me a shoe in for places with more Asian influence.”

“And you have someone who can verify that?” Dillon asked.

“Yeah. Got pen and paper? I’ll write down my contact.”

Dillon handed him the paper and pen.

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