Page 3 of Brutal Heir

I start the engine, pressing down the gas pedal as a minor retaliation for what I’ll have to deal with for the company. I take a deep breath and shift into gear then head out to the restricted area.

This is the one time I wish I had to adhere to the twenty-mile-an-hour speed limit. I’ve avoided having time alone with my thoughts the last couple of years, but if I’ve ever needed time to think, it’s now.

Much too soon, I’ve left the line of vehicles in the distance. Isn’t it supposed to be that time flies when you’re having fun? This could never be considered fun.

It’s not enough time to figure out the best way to approach the situation—any situation with Ezequiel Mata. He’s bound to be angry, which can be as bad as dealing with a grizzly having a bad day. Worse, I need to come up with a way to defuse the situation.

I reach the intersection with the main road and check traffic. To the left, several cows are munching on grass while others are following the road. Hm, I don’t think I’ve ever seen them moving around. But the sheer size of them makes me wonder how the driver could have missed seeing one.

I turn right, heading back toward the highway. Then I book it, which here means hitting forty miles an hour, something only security can do, and only in an emergency. Which may not be the best idea at the moment. I lift my foot off the gas, so I’m not having to explain how I was the next fool to hit a cow.

I reach the turn into one of the restricted areas and go straight through the gate onto a narrow road. The brush isn’t cut back here, so the mesquites and grass are only a few yards away.

The crew truck is in the distance, sitting in the middle ofthe road. I swallow hard, I won’t have much time to talk to the driver before Ezequiel shows up. He doesn’t have any restriction on how fast he can drive while on-site.

On the heels of that thought, another truck comes around the bend, stopping right behind them.

My stomach drops.

“Oh hell,” I mutter to myself. I’ll be walking into the lion’s den. Sure enough, a lone figure comes around the back of the truck. The dark cowboy hat sits atop a towering frame with broad shoulders, muscled arms, and a stride that leaves no doubt as to the mood he’s in.

Chapter 2

Ezequiel

I roar up to the scene of the fucking disaster and throw the gearshift to park. These goddamn oilfield workers think they can run around like they own the place.

I shut the engine off and get out of my truck, slamming the door behind me. I stalk past the work truck, boots crunching on the gravel. Another truck comes barreling down the road toward us as I check the area.

The animal’s lying there on the grass, lowing in agony, thrashing and causing itself more pain. She’s suffering, her leg crushed from going under the tire.

Ending a life is never easy. I take solace in the fact I’ll be putting an end to her misery. With a heavy heart, I draw the gun from the holster, take aim, and squeeze the trigger. The sound of the shot fills the air just as the animal goes still.

I fucking hate having to put an animal down.

The security woman climbs out of the vehicle, letting the door close slowly. Her gaze is focused at my feet; her pretty face has lost all color. What the hell is she doing out here if she knew it was a cattle strike and she can’t handle what has to be done?

Meanwhile, the guys have lined up along the side of the work truck. They range from looking uneasy to downright guilty. And they should be—my blood’s boiling and these motherfuckers are about to feel my wrath.

“Which one of you sorry sons of bitches was driving?”

From the other side of the truck, a man rises to his feet. He wipes the back of a shaking hand across his mouth. “It was me,” he rasps. His gaze slides to the ground behind me, and he retches. The kid can’t be more than twenty, probably the newest one on the crew. The guys likely made him drive so they could grab another hour’s sleep on the way to the site.

“I’m sorry,” he stammers, looking like he’s about to puke again. “Figured out I was on the wrong road and turned around.” He swallows hard. “The cows, they were everywhere.”

I nod once, my gaze locked to his face. My anger simmers just below the surface. There’s fear in his eyes along with regret.

“They were everywhere, huh?” I sneer. “Well, that’s a hell of an excuse.”

“Ezequiel,” the security interrupts. “I’m sure—”

“You got any idea the damage you’ve caused, boy?” I go on, ignoring her.

“It was an accident,” she finishes.

The other guys are shuffling nervously. They don’t want any part of this.

“I’m sorry, sir. I was going really slow.” He hunches his shoulders. “I thought they all cleared out. I couldn’t see it over the hood of the truck.”

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