AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Todd’s eyes widen at my threat but soon turn into a sneer when he realizes everyone is watching us. “I’d like to see you try, Declan. You’re nothing but a selfish asshole and you’ll run this ranch into the ground within a year. And when you do, I’ll be there to pick up the pieces.”
I rear my fist back when my arm meets resistance.
“Don’t do this, Chance. Not here,” Wyatt says behind me, holding me back.
Without hesitation, Todd raises his fist and hits me in the chin, taking advantage of me being held back. Women in the gathering crowd gasp around us. A man I don’t recognize grabs Todd, pulling him away.
“Chance!” Dakota yells, trying to inspect my face, but I push her behind me. I don’t want her anywhere near Todd.
“Get out,” I seethe at the other man. “You’re done, Jones. Do you hear me?”
“Chance, you’re bleeding,” Dakota says softly, bringing a hand to my chin.
“Fuck this.” I shrug her off and turn, stalking toward the house. I rip off my tie and throw it at a waiter carrying a full tray of flutes as he walks out of my kitchen.
I barely register my name being called as I slam the door behind me.
Chapter Twelve
Dakota
“Let me go after him,” I plead with Wyatt as I place my hand on his arm, holding him back. Even though I don’t know the man at all, I know the look of one that’s about to do some physical damage, and I think there’s been enough of that tonight.
“Are you sure? He’s even more of an ass than usual when he’s like this,” he says, not looking at me. His eyes track the slimy fucker that thought he had more swagger than Chance. I’ve known men like him; hell, I’ve had to represent men like him, and they always make my skin crawl. It took everything in me not to recoil and shiver when he kissed my hand.
We watch as Todd shrugs off the man holding him, spewing curses and claiming loudly he was only defending himself against the big, bad Chance Declan.
As if. If Chance wanted to hurt him, he could have taken this rat.
“Yes, you deal with—him.” I nod my head to Todd, who is now boasting about how differently he would run Whiskey Canyon Ranch, since Chance is so incapable of doing so. “I’ll go to Chance.”
Todd is really testing my nerves. I narrow my eyes at him, cursing him in my head while taking notes of everything about him to make sure that Hammond Law never represents him or his ranch.
Wyatt nods and stalks toward Todd, grabbing him by the collar and leading him away from the crowd and through the side gate.
“What are you doing? Get your hands off of me!” Todd protests but is no match for Wyatt’s pure strength.
“Fight me, Jones, and I swear I’ll do more than just throw you out.” Wyatt gives him another shove.
“I won’t give you a cent after this! Do you hear? You’ll never be able to run your little rodeo without Three Hills Ranch!” Todd stammers as Wyatt pulls him away.
The two stop suddenly with Wyatt saying something to him I can’t make out, but whatever it is, it makes Todd stop yelling and his face turn ashen. Wyatt gives him a sinister smile before pulling him around the corner.
I want more than anything to know what Wyatt whispered to him, but the lawyer in me knows it’s better if I pretend I didn’t see it.
The rest of the guests watch in shock, chattering while the women fan themselves and act scandalized, but their eyes never leave the men as they haul Todd out of the yard. I gather this is quite a lot of drama for a rodeo gala—and for the small town.
Now that Todd has been dealt with, I need to turn my attention to Chance. Not only was he bleeding, but he’s madder than hell and is probably nothing short of a ticking time bomb inside his own house.
I follow the door he stormed through, finding it leads to the kitchen, flooding my memories of Chance and I where the chefs are now standing. I feel a flush reach my cheeks as I think of how sexy he looked standing at the counter, hands gripping the countertop.
I want nothing more than to feel those hands on me. Have them run over my body. Through my hair.
“He went that way,” a young woman in a white suit squeaks, pointing down the hall.
I give my head a shake, pulling my gaze away from the hurried chefs and waitstaff, no doubt hustling to get more food out to distract the guests from the near fight.
“Thank you,” I say, giving her a polite smile. The poor girl looks as if she has been put through the trenches and if she was outside when it all happened, she undoubtedly was.
