Page 34 of Steers and Stowaways
“You’re welcome.” She could feel the bond between them growing stronger. However, she hadn’t fully earned his trust yet. Things like that took time—time they unfortunately didn’t have.
“Chip, there’s something you need to know.” She angled her head at the locked door. It was something he didn’t understand yet, but she would keep repeating it until it finally sank in. “The ranchers out there, the security guys, the police that are on their way…they’re the good guys.” She swung a finger between the two of them. “So are we. You care about my safety, and I care about your safety. That puts us on the same team.”
“I wish.” He made a rueful sound. “But I’m not the person you seem to think I am.”
“You’re wrong,” she declared so fiercely that his mouth fell open. “Being dragged into garbage outside your control doesn’t make you a bad person.”
“Maybe this’ll change your mind.” He tipped his head back to stare up at the ceiling. “I witnessed your steers being locked and loaded and did nothing to stop them.”
Tears prickled her eyelids. “Against your will?”
“Doesn’t matter.” He closed his eyes.
“It matters to me,” she informed him softly.
“Why?” He sounded exhausted. “We both know I’m gonna end up in jail. With the last name of Silva…” He shook his head.
“Not if I can help it,” she returned tartly.
He gave a mirthless laugh. “Like you can do anything to stop it.”
“Watch me!” She bumped shoulders with him again. “I’m already researching work release programs. I’ll apply to be your sponsor if it comes to that. But if you avoid jail time—and I sincerely hope you do—you can keep your job at the ranch.” She injected a note of mock seriousness into her voice. “Under one condition.”
“Oh, yeah?” He muffled a yawn.
“Earning your GED is nonnegotiable.”
His eyes remained closed. “It’s not that simple.”
Irritation curled through her midsection. “Aw, quit acting like this is the end of the road! You’ve got your whole life ahead of you.”
“However short it may be,” he groaned, opening his eyes at last.
“That sounds a little dramatic.” She was trying to downplay his words, hoping to snap him out of whatever inner terror was gripping him.
“Call it whatever you want.” The hopelessness in his voice squeezed her heart. “Doesn’t change what you and Tucker have gotten yourselves tangled up in.” After a moment he added, “Along with everyone else around here.”
“Which is what exactly?” She sat forward, slapping her hands on her thighs, making him jolt.
“A turf war.” There was no fight left in him, nothing but bleak sadness. “The kind you don’t just walk away from. But if anyone asks, you didn’t hear it from me.”
“Got it.” Her thoughts raced dizzily. Was Tucker listening in on them? She fervently hoped he was, because a turf war was a whole different ballgame. It meant they weren’t simply dealing with one gang, which was bad enough. They were caught in the crossfire between two of them.
This was war!
Chapter 7: More Questions
Aturf war. Just like I thought.Tucker came out of his seat and started pacing the subterranean security control room he and the rest of the Lonestar Security guys were hunkered in. They were glued to the live feed of the security camera in the room where Mallory and Chip were chatting. Mounted on the walls of the control room were several other computer screens flashing through scenes across the historic community. Conrad Cavender had left them to monitor the security feeds while he and his ranch hands finished moving his herds to safety.
“A turf war.” Gil Remington glanced up from his laptop, where he’d been digging deeper into the Silva family’s background. “You don’t look surprised, Pratt.”
Dave, who’d been leaning over his friend’s shoulder, glanced Tucker’s way. “Either you were right about her, or she’s a better actress than any of us gave her credit for.” He was fiddling with Mallory and Chip’s cell phones.
Tucker gave him a hard look. “Lemme guess. You think she’s figured out she’s being filmed, and she’s feeding us nonsense to control the narrative?” It was somethingMallory was capable of, though Tucker doubted it was the case. Her body language, which he’d gotten especially good at reading lately, wasn’t giving off any red flags. However, if the only attorney in the room was determined to keep raining suspicion down on her head, far be it from Tucker to spoil his fun. He understood the process of ruling out suspects and had every confidence that Dave would eventually arrive at the right conclusions.
“If that’s what she’s doing, she’s got Hollywood-level acting skills.” Gage Hefner glanced up from the card table where he and his younger brother, Rock, were playing cards. Rock’s old leg injury from his Special Forces days must be acting up, because he had his cane resting between his knees.
“Or…” Gage shot a bemused look at Dave. “Maybe someone is just trying to get a rise out of the only single guy on our team.” He slapped a card down on the table. “It’s kinda hard to miss the tension between you and a certain spitfire rancher.”
