Page 21 of Ms. Fortune
“Hey.”
I felt the press of Risky’s index finger under my chin. He forced my head up, making it so I had to look at him. I was surprised to find he appeared almost as angry as I felt.
“I’m not going to let that happen. I might not know how to operate a fucking snowblower, but I can go toe-to-toe with another fixer, no problem. And if we aren’t dealing with a professional, they don’t stand a chance. Trust me.”
Trust him? Could I? Did I have a choice?
Someone with my luck knew better than to wait for a hero to arrive. But nobody ever said a villain might just be the solution to all of life’s problems under the right circumstances, and it seemed far more likely that was what I’d be given if I asked for help for the first time in my life.
Risky told me he would handle making sure any hidden surveillance was dug up across the entire property before the wrong person found it. Fortunately, I didn’t have many bookings right now to accommodate finishing up the deck and the outdoor kitchen. For the one or two nights I had guests on the property, I let them stay in the cabin Risky had practically pulled apart in search of secret cameras. It was the only spot I was sure was safe.
The following weekend, a giant man driving a pristinely restored Ford Bronco with Colorado plates showed up. He was heavily tattooed, wore dark sunglasses he never took off, and had the same brooding and unscrupulous aura around him that I often caught floating around Risky. He was wearing nothing more than a plain T-shirt and jeans, even though the temperature was steadily dropping, making me think he didn’t just have local plates, but also local blood. The guy had to be familiar with the state and acclimated to the unpredictable weather.
The two men shook hands and did that backbreaking, pounding thing that all close, hypermasculine friends did in place of a hug. I watched out the windows by the door as they greeted each other and fell into an easy rhythm as they caught up. The tattooed guy scratched Risky’s chin, and Risky laughed at whatever the dark-haired man had said about his beard. Amoment later, he whipped out a cell phone and was scrolling through what I assumed were pictures of his family with my handyman.
If they didn’t look like a couple of criminals on parole, it would’ve been a sweet and wholesome moment. Since they both appeared like they could toss someone off the side of the mountain with no hesitation, the warm camaraderie left me feeling like I’d stumbled into aTwilight Zoneepisode.
I couldn’t tell if Risky could see me from where I was spying on him or if he just had a sixth sense and knew there were eyes watching. Either way, he raised his hand and crooked his finger in a silent gesture, telling me to join them.
I wiped my nervous, sweaty hands on the legs of my jeans and stepped outside. The guy with the tattoos pushed his sunglasses to the top of his head. I nearly gasped out loud when I caught sight of his two different-colored eyes. I had known it was possible, but I’d never seen an actual human with heterochromia. It gave him the impression of being something almost otherworldly.
“This is my friend Zowen Archer. He’s an expert in cybersecurity. We used to work together frequently back at my old job. Fortunately, he and his family spend half the year in Denver, so he’s available to help out with our current security problems.”
I stiffly stuck out my hand and watched as it was swallowed up in a firm, tattooed grip. “Nice to meet you. Thank you for coming on such short notice.”
I could hardly swallow. My anxiety had nothing to do with the man in front of me. It had everything to do with the way Risky had said “our” problems. As if the repeated disasters I was dealing with weren’t mine alone to find a solution for. I hadn’t had anyone to share a burden with since my grandparents had passed away.
“When Risk calls, you answer. No questions asked. Happy to help.”
I glanced at Risky as he lifted an eyebrow in return.
“Risk?”
It was his last name and a far more fitting nickname than Risky, if you asked me. It was less cutesy and more to the point. It was also a bright red flag. Only someone looking for trouble would willingly get entangled with a man named Risk.
Risky shrugged. “My old boss called me by my last name. It stuck. When I retired, it felt like I should retire that moniker as well. I’ve never answered to Declan. Switching it up to Risky seemed like the best option without having to legally change things. I like Risky. It makes me sound like I’m a fun guy.” He winked at me. “Don’t you agree?”
I put my hand out in front of me as if I were warding off evil and gave a short laugh. “You’re definitely something.”
I turned my attention back to the large man who was watching our interaction with a smirk on his face. He was very good-looking in a brutal and harsh way. He made Risky appear more refined and elegant than he typically was, even though he was in a similar outfit without the addition of the ever-present flannel. I wondered what the wardrobe Declan Risk had left behind looked like because I sincerely doubted it included a scrap of plaid fabric or denim.
“I used to snowboard when I was younger. I’ve driven by this place a hundred times. I’m local, so I never stayed longer than a day, but I always thought the way this place was built right into the mountainside was very cool.” He turned his head to look out over the vista and across the craggy horizon. “I’m happy to help keep your property out of the wrong hands. I’m going to show my wife pictures when I get home. Once she sees it, she’s going to fall in love and ask me to bring the family up here for a weekend.”
I could tell he was trying to come across as less intimidating and threatening. I appreciated his consideration, but it was a waste of time. Some men simply oozed power and danger. Risky turned different personas on and off like a switch as it suited him. His friend had his pressure dialed all the way up with no reprieve.
“You said you used to snowboard. Why did you quit?”
The sport was prohibitively expensive these days, and dealing with the crowds was a nightmare. One had toreallylove winter sports to brave all the negatives for a day on the slopes or a terrain park anymore.
“Ahh … there were a lot of reasons. I worked a lot. Started a family. Crashed a motorcycle once or twice. Got older, and my knees decided they couldn’t keep up with me. I still try to hit the mountains here or in California once or twice a year. Now I’m there to make sure my son doesn’t break his damn neck, and to keep all the cocky teenage boys away from my daughters.”
I let out a genuine laugh. It was hard to remember the last time that had happened. I was strung too tight these days. It often felt like if the strings pulling me in every direction tugged just a hint more, I was going to shatter. It was nice of this big, burly guy to do his best to set me at ease.
I tucked the pale, dyed part of my hair behind my ear and told him, “If you can help figure out who’s trying to ruin me, you and your family can have an unlimited number of weekend visits at the lodge on me. I’ve got to do something before someone gets genuinely hurt.”
“I’ll do my best.” The big man Risky had called Zowen removed his sunglasses from his head and hooked the arm into the neck of his T-shirt. “Risk told me that you currently don’t have much staff, but you’re getting ready to hire for the season.”
I nodded. “There’s him”—I pointed to Risky—“and my neighbor’s teenage son. Dex is failing every single subject inschool and can hardly handle getting luggage from the front door to a guest’s room without being distracted by his phone. I doubt he’s a criminal mastermind.”
