Page 104 of Ace of Spades
Scott’s hand presses to the wound on his shoulder as he crawls backward, panting.
“Lenora, let’s be reasonable about this.”
“The time for being reasonable has long passed,” Weston says, his gun back in hand as he kicks a half-conscious Brad at his feet before walking our way, cornering Scott between him and my mom. “I’m thinking now we show you how we do things here at the ranch.”
“Wait,” I cut in, everyone turning to look at me. “We can’t kill them.”
“Why not? They tried to kill you, and they nearly killed Dakota and Chance,” Rafe asks.
I look to Weston, my eyes meeting his beautiful green ones.
“He’s still my dad,” I tell him, pleading for him to understand. “I don’t want to ever see him again, but I don’t want him to die either. I don’t want anybody to die, especially not because of me.”
Weston looks to Rafe and then past me to my mom, a war brewing in his eyes.
“Fine,” he finally states. “Then how do you two want to handle this?”
“I want him arrested,” my mom says. “I want him to be locked up for all of the crimes he’s been committing over the years, the ones he threatened me to never talk about. Embezzlement, extortion, lying to his investors, all of it. If you kill him now, the world will never know what a fraud he was—what a fraud they both were.”
Weston looks to me for confirmation that this is what I want.
“I don’t want to risk any of you getting in trouble,” I tell him. “I’ve already brought enough problems to your ranch.”
“Our ranch,” he corrects. “You’re a part of it too, just as much as any of us.”
I look to Rafe who nods in agreement, turning to find Rhonda and Debbie do the same. Something swells in my chest, my heart thumping against my ribs as I finally feel it—the sense of home that I hadn’t felt in the longest time.
“Then that’s what I want to do,” I state. “I don’t want them to disappear on this ranch forever, for everyone to talk about how brilliant they were and how sad of a loss it is. I want everyone to know that Easton & Sorrels was run by two very bad men, and Iwant them to spend the rest of their lives paying for their mistakes.”
“Then so be it,” Weston says. “Rhonda—call the cops, tell them to meet us out here.”
I push to my feet and dust off my jeans, my head still spinning slightly from the blow to the face.
“I can drive them to the station. I got some of my ropes in the back of my truck,” Rafe says, nodding his head over to the truck that I now realize is parked behind my dad’s, explaining how they must have gotten here so quickly.
“Don’t waste your diesel on them,” Weston tells him. “Besides, we’ll have to show the cops the damage to give them the proof they want. I spotted gas cans in the bed of their truck, not sure if they’ll need fingerprints or any of that shit but it’s there in case they need it.”
“And I can dig up all of the proof of his financial crimes,” my mom adds. “I have access to the paperwork, you’ll just have to give me a few days.”
Weston nods, Rhonda stepping away to call the emergency number.
“Just one more thing, though,” Weston says, stepping up to where Scott sits on the ground, still cupping his injury as his face twists in pain. Out of nowhere, Weston cocks his arm back and whips him across the face with his pistol, the sound of bone cracking ringing through the trees surrounding us. Scott falls to the ground, rolling to his side as he coughs blood all over the dirt path.
I brace myself as Weston moves over to Brad, my ex-boyfriend crawling backward in fear before his back hits the truck behind him.
“Please, Weston—Please, I’m sorry!”
Weston wrenches him up by the forearm, slamming it against the hood of the truck. I flinch as I watch him draw up his gun, bringing the butt of it down onto Brad’s hand, a scream piercing the air as Weston shatters it completely.
“I’ve been meaning to give that to you for a while now. You ever hit another woman again, you’ll lose that hand completely. You ever lay a hand on Hailey again? They won’t find your body. Are we understood?”
“Yes,” Brad wails, falling back down to the ground as he cradles his limp hand.
My heart drums in my chest as Weston turns to face me, the bandana still wrapped around his neck giving him even more of an intimidating aura that sends a shiver down my spine.
He tucks his gun in the back of his waistband, taking controlled strides until he’s standing directly in front of me, everything around us forgotten as I look up at his handsome face.
“Sorrels,” he breathes, his hand reaching up to cup my face, tilting it to better inspect the bruise that I’m sure is forming over my cheekbone.
