Page 19 of The Trail Boss

“Okay,” she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper.

Gavin’s shoulders relaxed slightly, but his intensity didn’t waver. “Good girl.”

She’d heard a number of the Doms use that phrase in that voice to any number of submissives. They all talked about how good it made them feel and it was as if they’d been wrapped in a warm blanket. Roxie had always thought that was a load of crap. Now? She wasn’t so sure.

As he turned toward the door, Roxie sank onto the edge of her bed, her head in her hands. For the first time in years, she felt like someone else was carrying the weight she’d borne alone for so long.

And it terrified her.

And yet, somehow, it didn’t feel entirely wrong.

7

ROXIE

Roxie leaned her head against the cool window of Gavin’s truck, watching the shadowy outlines of hills and fences roll past under the moonlight. The tightness in her chest refused to ease, no matter how many calming breaths she took.

“Almost there,” Gavin said, breaking the silence.

His voice was low, calm, but it didn’t do much to quiet the storm in her mind. She glanced at him, his hands steady on the wheel, his jaw tight with the same quiet resolve that had infuriated her all night.

“Where exactly is ‘there’?” she asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

“My ranch,” Gavin said simply, his eyes flicking to her before returning to the road. “Iron Valor. Safe, private, secure. I’ve let the team know we’re going to hole up there for a while.”

Roxie frowned. “I assume your friends all work there?”

“For the most part, they’re all former special ops guys just looking for a little peace. The actual team all work at Silver Spur Security, but anybody trying to assault my ranch will find themselves in a whole world of hurt.” He smiled, the faintest twitch of his lips betraying his amusement. “You’ll like them.”

“Doubtful,” she muttered, turning back to the window.

The iron gates swung open to reveal a hard-pack dirt road that seemed as sturdy as concrete beneath the tires as they pulled up to a sprawling ranch house surrounded by wide open fields, an enormous barn, a covered arena, and what looked to be a grouping of tiny houses, presumably for his ranch hands as well as a scattering of outbuildings. Lights glowed warmly from the windows, but the place still looked imposing in the darkness.

Gavin parked and climbed out, coming around to open her door before she could protest. His hand hovered near her back as she stepped down, her knees almost giving way as her boots hit the ground. He reached out to steady her.

“This is my home,” he said, gesturing toward the main house. “Come on.”

Roxie followed him reluctantly, her nerves prickling as they stepped inside. The warmth of the place hit her immediately—soft light, the faint scent of wood smoke, and the sound of low voices coming from a room just beyond the foyer.

“Gavin,” a deep voice called out.

A tall man with sharp features and piercing eyes stepped into view, his gaze sweeping over Roxie before landing on Gavin. He looked at her and shook his head.

“Reed, you remember Roxie. She tends bar at the club,” Gavin confirmed, his tone leaving no room for discussion. “Roxie, I think you’ve met Reed Malone, one of the other owners of the club and my partner in Silver Spur Security. Keely is his kid sister.”

“Reed,” Roxie said, offering a small nod.

Reed studied her before extending a hand. “Welcome to Iron Valor, Gavin’s home. He says someone’s got a target on your back. We’ll fix that.”

The confidence in his voice was reassuring, but it also unsettled her. These men spoke about danger like it was just another day at the office.

Gavin led her into what appeared to be an enormous dining room, where three other men lounged around a large table covered in maps, files, and coffee mugs. They all looked up as she entered, their casual postures betraying a sharp awareness that put her immediately on edge.

“I think everybody has at least met Roxie,” Gavin said.

The introductions came fast, their names blending together—Hawke, Jesse, Dawson. Each of them greeted her with a polite nod or a quick smile, but their eyes were assessing, as if cataloging every detail about her in seconds. They were the other owners of the club, worked at Silver Spur Security and were rumored to have served with Gavin and Reed in a highly-decorated SEAL team.

Roxie’s throat tightened. She felt small and out of place in this room full of trained operatives who clearly had no problem stepping into danger.

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