Page 22 of Ranch's Resolve

“We know where the group originated and that it passed through Santa Ana. We want to know how she learned of the transport.”

“Why?” I repeat.

“We need to know.”

“Who needs to know? The club?”

Ranch stares at me but doesn’t respond right away. Finally, he lets out a sigh. “It’s club business.”

At his response, I turn and walk out of the kitchen. He sighs and follows me into the living area.

“What’s wrong?” he asks.

“You aren’t going to tell me why you need me to pry into Angelica’s business?”

“I can’t. It’s club business. You have to understand how that works. I imagine Killian and Deion didn’t share everything with you regarding their gang. Am I right?”

“No, you’re right, they didn’t share everything. It’s the same bullshit, isn’t it? I thought when they left the gang behind, I wasdone worrying about someone I care about running afoul of the law.” I shake my head at my stupidity. How did I not see this coming? Meeting Caitlin and seeing her vision of Crossroads blinded me. I figured someone as pure and giving as Caitlin couldn’t be involved with criminals. But that’s what the Demon Dawgs are. Criminals. I stare at the 1% patch on Ranch’s kutte. He follows my eyes. “You need to leave.”

Ranch studies my face for several seconds before nodding and walking toward the door. When he reaches it, he stops and speaks without turning around.

“I’m not going to apologize for what I am,” he says. “I hoped you’d see past the kutte and know I’d never do anything to hurt you.” He leaves before I can respond. That works best for me since I don’t know what else to say.

I’m angry at myself and him. After wiping down the table, I stare at the potted plant and let a single tear fall for what could have been. Closing myself off in my home office, I write up my plan for incorporating outings for those at Crossroads. I debate suggesting an alternative location other than the Demon Dawg’s ranch. We could find another location offering the same benefits, but I know Caitlin suggested the club’s ranch because of the security the club provides. I can’t blame her. However, I will need to explain to her why I won’t be participating in the excursions. Once I finish the plan, I email it to Caitlin before grabbing a glass of wine and sitting on the couch to watch television.

I’m antsy and unsettled. Today was stressful, and I’ve hit every high and low possible. While helping Angelica, I hadn’t noticed the men with guns. I knew what they were: illegal immigrants who crossed over the border from Mexico. I don’t know why I called Ranch to warn him about the ICE agents. I can’t blame my actions on the need to protect Angelica. She was already out of danger when I spotted the agents hightailing itto the ranch. The visit from the ICE agents had been terrifying. The predatory actions of ICE over the past several months have made me more than wary of them. Their actions are more Gestapo-like than those of the Americans. Even though Angelica was off Ranch’s property, the ICE agents were still a danger to her. No, I didn’t mind misleading the assholes.

So, why does Ranch and his club need to know how she got here? What does it matter? I didn’t think Ranch and the club were offering safe passage to immigrants. Ranch had seemed genuinely surprised to find them on his property. However, that didn’t mean Ranch and the club weren’t smuggling people or other goods across the border. Did Ranch want to know more about Angelica because he was afraid she knew about their illegal activities? I know the Demon Dawgs aren’t law-abiding citizens. They don’t wear the 1% patch because it looks good on their kuttes. They are a biker club that takes pride in working outside the law.

I need to remember this for future reference. I finally don’t have to worry about Killian and Deion breaking the law. Why do I want to let someone into my life who will bring all that fear and stress with him? No, I don’t need Ranch in my life, not if I have to worry about getting hurt. I’ve had enough.

I ignore the twinge of pain caused by knowing I’ll never see the handsome biker again. If I’m smart, I’d break my relationship with Caitlin and Crossroads, too. How can I avoid the Demon Dawgs and all the crap they bring if I continue to work with Caitlin? Shit. If I end my relationship with Caitlin to avoid the Demon Dawgs, then I need to end my friendships with the other Old Ladies. The thought breaks my heart. Those women were some of the closest friends I’ve ever had.

Finishing off my wine, I reach for the remote to turn off the television I’m not watching. However, before I press the button,I see a name I recognize flash on the screen. Tuning in to what the reporter is saying, I feel a little queasy.

“The police discovered the body of Robert Harden in the parking lot of BulletMade. BulletMade produces high-end security software and systems. Considering the level of violence perpetrated by Robert Harden’s attacker, the police are considering the attacks to be connected to the company.”

Robert Harden. Georgie’s attacker. Someone shot Georgie’s attacker outside the building where they both worked. They killed him outside the building where he had attacked her. Coincidence? Is there such a thing as coincidence? Usually, I’d say no, but in this case? Georgie was terrified of facing her attacker in court. Could she have garnered enough courage to face him sooner? To face him while armed?

CHAPTER THIRTEEN: RANCH

Closing Athena’s door behind me feels like I’ve closed the door on our relationship. I’m disappointed. I thought with Athena’s background, she’d be more accepting of the club. More accepting of me. Dante, Scar, and Chaos had plucked their Old Ladies out of a world far outside biker life. Athena belonged in that world, too, but she understood the club. At least she understood the parts that we shared with the gangs. Kilian and Deion had been high-ranking members of the Spades. A notorious gang that dealt in more violence and crime than my club did. Perhaps I was mistaken in thinking she’d be more accepting.

As I swing my leg over my bike, I pull out my phone to accept a call. I immediately recognized the caller ID. I consider letting it go to voicemail, but then decide the caller is the perfect person to feel my wrath.

“What?” I answer.

“Mr. Handler, I was calling to see if you’ve reconsidered my client’s offer?”

“Why the fuck would I do that? Look, asshole, I have no intention of selling the ranch. Not today or any day. Not to your client or anyone. Is that clear enough for you?”

“Piece of advice, Mr. Handler, my client won’t take no for an answer. He has ways to make you reconsider. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“You fucking threatening me?” I bellow, but the asshole on the other side has already ended the call.

I consider going to the clubhouse to have Smoke trace the call, but my gut tells me to head to the ranch. Since I always trust my gut, I point my bike to Highway 5. On the way, I call Smoke.

“I need you to do me a favor. This asshole keeps calling me. I want you to trace the call.”

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