Page 47 of My Cowboy Temptation

Chapter 15

Brody

“Any objections?”I ask Lucas as I drive down the highway, keeping my eye on the guy I caught scouting Callie’s place when I looked out the window of her apartment nearly an hour before. The same guy I recognize as one of Zeke Palmer’s runners, Roger.

Lucas sighs into the phone. “No. Do what you need to. We’ll talk when you get back.”

I hang up and stay on route, even when the guy continues into town, and I drive past him and toward my destination.

Zeke Palmer’s place.

When we persuaded Arnie Jackson to come forward and provide evidence against Cody to get him in jail, we knew there was a chance that our interference risked angering the head of the Palmer family and county drug king, Zeke Palmer. But at the time, it seemed like a necessary risk.

Unfortunately, last month, we started to see some signs that Zeke Palmer might know about our involvement in the arrest after Everly spotted someone following her around as she conducted her visits. Someone not on our payroll. Which was enough for us to amp up our own security, like the new security cameras located around the ranch.

It has been a source of relief to both Lucas and I that Callie was in London and far away from Zeke Palmer’s reach.

Until now, with her return.

I saw the fear on Callie’s face earlier, something I haven’t seen often. Callie has always been intrepid and headstrong, her mind usually thinking about some new art pieces she was working on or a bit of trouble she could cause her dad. For her to feel uncomfortable and stressed enough to sense someone watching her, following her, was a red flag.

It’s why, once her dinner was cooked and warming on the stove, I went to the window and looked out, trying to see if anything seemed out of the norm.

The guy was hidden pretty well at first. Eventually I found him standing across the street in the shadows of the building, smoking a cigarette as he tried to pretend disinterest in people coming and going. But his eyes kept returning to Callie’s building.

I wanted to race down there and beat the living shit out of Zeke’s man while demanding he tell me what were his orders, but I also recognized that the guy was just a lackey for someone else, and it would be best that I go directly to the source.

First, however, I had to tell Callie I was leaving, which was when I made the mistake of walking into that bathroom with little thought to what I was going to find on the other side of that door, my focus on ensuring her safety by whatever means necessary. At least until I saw her sitting all pink and flushed and so fucking gloriously sexy in that tub.

And her breasts? Perfectly proportioned breasts whose weight I could remember resting in my hands, on my tongue, in my mouth, breasts that are now fuller and begging for my attention. With her hair pulled up on top of her head all sexy and messy, her face flushed, and her mouth open in surprise, the only thing I wanted to do was pull her up into my arms and kiss and touch every single inch of that rosy skin, forget Zeke Palmer.

But common sense reigned, and I got out of there, as I knew I had to if I wanted to prove my suspicions and keep her safe. I chose to leave the building from the back and found my own secure spot to watch the guy until he finally got into his truck and headed back toward Castle Falls, which was when I called Lucas and told him my suspicions.

There was a long moment of silence once I mentioned I came out to check up on Callie, one that I’m certain we’ll be revisiting. But hell, I don’t care. If Lucas asks me point-blank if there’s something between me and Cal, I’m coming clean, willing to take whatever anger will inevitably come my way, along with the chance I’ll lose my best friend.

I would have done all of this before too had I not thought that it was in Callie’s best interest to get out of this town and try and make a real go of her dream of being an internationally renowned artist. It has been what she dreamed about as a kid, even mentioned it in her high school yearbook’s list of ambitions. The last thing I wanted was to hold her down to this town and this old man, both of which I imagined she’d regret.

But then she showed up here. On her own.

I still have questions though. Worries. Is she sacrificing what she really wants because she’s having a baby? Or is the life she’s building for herself what she wants?

Seeing the gallery where she works, her small but comfortable apartment with the area she turned into a studio, not to mention the quiet glow of beauty and what might be contentment over her situation, I’m starting to think that maybe being right here in Montana is what she wants.

It’s not long before I’m pulling onto the road leading to Zeke’s place, and I’m not surprised when I’m stopped by two guys who come out of nowhere, both apparently packing heat.

I barely blink as I meet their gazes. “Tell Zeke that Brody Dalton is here to see him.”

“Do you have an appointment?” one asks.

“He’ll want to see me.”

I stare them down until one of them steps a few feet away and makes a call. He’s back a moment later. “Go on up.”

Without a word, I continue up the dirt road, certain that somewhere in some small room, a guy is following my progress from the security cameras that are everywhere. For good reason. With a growing drug enterprise like Zeke’s, one hidden underneath the surface of this old sheep ranch his family’s owned for a couple of generations, there is bound to be people poking around and creating trouble.

When I pull up to the old house, I find Zeke enjoying a pipe out on the porch. The place is underwhelming, dilapidated, and old, but I suppose if you were trying to cover a burgeoning drug enterprise, you wouldn’t want to attract attention.

We nod to each other, and I take the offered rocking chair next to him. Somewhere in his seventies and carrying an extra fifty pounds, Zeke Palmer shouldn’t be an intimidating figure to anyone. But one look in those eyes, eyes that don’t seem to have a shred of human decency or empathy, and you know this is a man without a soul who’s willing to do what he has to, to protect his interests.

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