Page 78 of Tate
And his heart simply stopped. There, standing in the crowd was a man with a fire tattoo licking his neck, his gaze trained on Glo.
Tate looked closer. It was definitely taken tonight because Glo wore that same gorgeous blue dress.
He ignored Sloan in the picture.
“I need your camera,” he said to the kid. “It’s got a picture I need.”
“That’s a Nikon D5. It cost me seven thousand dollars.”
Tate wanted to say something like,cry me a river, kid, but Rags interjected, “Let’s go back to the house. We can take the picture off the hard drive, grab the SD card, and wipe the camera.”
Swamp had pulled up on the other motorcycle, and surprise, surprise, Sly was right behind him on one of the four wheelers. He got out and stalked over to Tate.
“I didn’t expect you back until tomorrow.”
“Then you should have had someone on Glo’s detail tonight. She was out there alone, or this jerk wouldn’t have been able to sneak in.”
“I did have someone on.” He looked at Rags.
Tate followed with a glare. “You left her alone?”
Rags held up a hand. “Sorry. She dismissed me. I don’t have the same obsession, bro. I’m not going to sit outside on a lounge chair and watch her window all night.”
Tate wanted to go for Rags’s throat.
Would have, maybe, had Sly not caught his shoulder, pushed him back and away from Rags. “No. I get it, but no.”
Tate drew in a breath, shot a look over to Rags, back to Sly. “She doesn’t leave my sight.”
Sly nodded.
“Which means that she goes with me this weekend to Montana.”
Sly raised an eyebrow. “That’s not how it works, Tate. You work for her, not the other way around.”
“I’ll go.”
Tate froze, then turned, and yes, Glo appeared, seated bareback on one of those pretty thoroughbreds. She wore a pair of yoga pants and a T-shirt, diamonds at her ears, barefoot like she might be a modern-day Viking princess.
She could even ride a horse.
Then again, hello. He should have guessed that after seeing the highbrow livestock around her. And didn’t she once mention that her grandfather raised thoroughbreds?
“I’ll go to Montana. With Rango.”
She knew his nickname? It sent a strange, not unwelcome heat through him to hear her revert back to her crazy practice of calling him by funny names.
Like something good might have reset between them.
“No,” Sly said.
“Yes,” Tate replied. “Listen. I know my ranch, and it’s unexpected. We—me and my brothers—can keep her safe there. Trust me. She’ll be safer there than here.”
Sly gave him a look. “Excuse me, but last time she was there, she wasshot.”
Tate’s mouth tightened.
“I’ll be fine. I trust Tate. And I need to get away, just for a few days.”
