Page 7 of Brutal Heir

I damn well deserve to be here as much, if not more, than anyone else.

So, why is it that a few minutes with Ezequiel Mata make me feel so inadequate?

I blink rapidly, trying to keep tears at bay. There’s no crying when you’re on the job. Safety, security, and law enforcement don’t allow for weakness. The bad guys will jump on it and exploit it.

Yet, a sole tear escapes, racing over my cheek. I dash it away with the back of my hand. Oh God, at least this didn’t happen in front of him. It would just be one more reason for him to think I’m a screwup.

Every time I think I’ve gotten my life in order, something happens, and I slide back into the darkness. This little incident reminds me that I have to work hard at dealing with life and everything it brings.

I take a calming breath and glance into the rearview mirror. Ezequiel is standing by his truck, watching me drive away. Even at this distance, I can feel his anger. I swear I could feel the heat of it when I was standing next to him. He was that furious.

He’s a tough man to deal with, but I never expected him to be such an ass. Ugh, that just gets me riled up all over again.

I can’t stop the anger flowing through me. I can’t help the frustration welling up inside me. One at a time, I can handle, but both… Ihate it. I hate feeling like I’m inadequate, like I can’t do better than a half-ass job.

He doesn’t know me, doesn’t understand what I’ve been through. What I’ve overcome. Yet he went for the jugular, finding what hurts most. And he got the best of me.

What’s worse, Bill wanted me to defuse the situation, but I didn’t do a damn thing. So, what now?

I try to shake off the anger he’s left me with.

My thoughts are racing, my chest feels tight, and my breathing is shallow. My heartbeat’s pounding in my ears, a physical manifestation of the frustration coursing through me.

As I drive down the dusty road, I can’t help but replay our interaction in my mind. The way he towered over me, his posture aggressive, voice laced with disdain. The way he made me feel small and insignificant.

I take a deep breath and try to focus on the road ahead, but my mind keeps drifting back to Ezequiel’s words.You don’t belong here. It’s not the first time he’s made me feel like I have no business being here, but today it felt different. It felt personal.

I know I shouldn’t let him get to me, but it’s hard not to take it personally. I’ve worked hard to get to where I am, to earn the respect of my colleagues and the trust of the man in charge. And yet, in Ezequiel’s eyes, it all means nothing.

I shake my head, trying to clear my mind. I can’t let his words get to me. I have a job to do, my way, and I need to focus on that. But, as I glance in the rearview mirror, I see him standing by his truck watching me drive away.

A sense of disappointment wells up inside me, followed by frustration. I’ll have to figure out a way to deal with Ezequiel. If I’m going to continue working here, I’ll have to deal with him. There’s no two ways about it.

Reaching the intersection, I stop and check the road. The convoy hasn’t made it out of the area. They won’t have, not when they have to keep it to twenty miles per hour, but it shouldn’t be much longer. Meanwhile, the cows have ventured farther out. Only two are still by the road, munching on the grass along the fence.

Blowing out a breath, I pull out, turn, and stop. Glancing around me, to make sure I’m alone, I jump down and backtrack to the gate. I keep my attention on the ground, ignoring the truck and the man who ruined my morning.

With a final snake-check, I pull the gate closed and drop the latch. Sigh. It would have taken two minutes to avoid this entire problem. Why don’t these guys have a lick of sense? I turn, catching sight of the cows, and come to a realization. I didn’t think twice about the open gate when I came through because I’m a city girl.

All right, so it’s about education. Telling these guys why to keep the gate closed, instead of just the fact they should. I swallow my pride and pull the radio from my hip as I walk back to the truck. “Gate five, come in.” I may as well do this over the radio so all the gates are aware—even though it’s whathesuggested I do.

“Gate five,” the guard replies as I climb into the cab.

“Start advising the crews to make sure that if they open a gate, they close it behind them so we don’t have cattle escape.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he replies. “Ranch manager called a couple of minutes ago.”

That insufferable—

“We have to tell all visitors to leave the gate like they foundit. If they open a gate, they have to close it behind them.”

And just like that, my moment of peace is shattered.

Chapter 4

Sage

The two-way radio beeps at my waist. The sound irritates me enough to send my hands hovering above the keyboard as I press my eyes closed. Somehow, I know the call is for me, and I’m not going to like the result. It’s been like that since my run-in with Ezequiel, at the beginning of the week.

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