Page 12 of Ranger's Justice

She lets out a short, humorless laugh. “Funny. I don’t remember hiring a bodyguard.”

I grit my teeth. “You didn’t. But your boss and the governor are friends. You made yourself a problem for some very bad people, and like it or not, that means you’re my problem now, too.”

Her eyes flash. “I don’t belong to you, my boss, or the governor.”

Something dark stirs in my chest, my wolf pacing just beneath the surface. This is not the fight we need to have right now.

I keep my voice measured. “You might not belong to me, and you should be glad of that.” The lie comes too easily, but she doesn’t need to know that. “But the governor, who is my boss, wants you alive. So he sent me and my team to save your sorry ass.”

She holds my stare for a beat longer than she should, her body still humming with adrenaline, the way mine is. Damn it. I need to focus.

“You’re lucky I was there tonight,” I say, dragging the conversation back on track. “The Del Toro cartel doesn’t issue warnings. You being there means you’ve got about a day, maybe less, before they start to hunt you.”

She doesn’t blink. “I can handle them.”

Goddamn it; she’s infuriating. Not only doesn’t she understand, she seems determined not to.

I slam my palm on the wheel. “Handle them? Are you hearing yourself? You’re a financial analyst, not a federal agent. You just waded into cartel business without a plan, without a weapon, without…”

“I had a plan,” she cuts in.

“Yeah? What was that? To piss off a dozen armed men and hope your wit saved you?”

She glares at me, her breathing too fast, her scent still thick with fight.

“You’re right,” she snaps. “I’m not a cop. I don’t have a badge. I don’t have training. But I do have something none of you do.”

I narrow my eyes. “And what’s that?”

She leans in, voice dropping just enough to feel like a punch to the gut.

“The truth.”

Damn it. I don’t want to admire her, but it’s hard as hell not to.

I drag a hand through my hair and let out a slow breath. “Alright. You want to tell me what the hell you think you know?”

Cassidy’s expression hardens. “Hollister is working with the Del Toro cartel. He’s not just laundering their money—he’s facilitating their operations. He’s using what used to be my father’s business empire as a front for their shipments, covering their movements under legitimate oil and shipping contracts.”

Fury ignites in my blood. I knew Hollister was dirty. But this? This makes him a traitor in my book.

“And you have proof?” I press.

Cassidy clenches her jaw. “According to my boss, not enough. Not yet. That’s why I was there tonight.”

I shake my head. “You’re gonna get yourself killed chasing ghosts, Marlow.”

She doesn’t back down. “They’re not ghosts. They’re criminals, and my father tried to stop them.”

I glance at her. “You really think Hollister had him killed?”

She looks out the window, jaw tight. “I’m sure of it.”

I study her, the way her fingers grip her thigh, like she’s holding something inside—something too painful to let loose. She’s been carrying this for a long time. Long enough for it to shape her into the woman sitting next to me.

Damn it all.

I grind my teeth and pull off the road, parking the SUV in a dark, empty lot. I kill the engine and turn to face her fully.

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