Page 115 of Ironwood Ranch Cowboys

“This isn’t external,” I say, more slowly now, letting it settle properly. “Whoever is doing this understands how Ironwood operates. They know where oversight relaxes and how to move inside it without triggering attention.”

Annie watches me carefully. “That’s what I think too.”

I nod once.

Agreement is easy. What comes after isn’t.

I straighten, stepping back from the desk to give myself space to think without the immediate pull of the screen.

Jake has been with Ironwood long enough to understand its rhythms. Reliable, efficient, capable. The kind of man you don’t question unless you have a reason.

Now, I have one. More than one.

I glance back at the screen, then at her. “You put this together in a few hours?”

She shrugs. “I had a direction.”

I don’t spend time validating people, I expect competence. I don’t comment on it, but with her it feels necessary. Because she isn’t just competent, she’s essential to this problem.

“That’s why you’re here,” I say.

Her eyes hold mine. “Because I can see it.”

“Yes.”

There’s something in the way she absorbs it. The recognition of her place in this, not just as an employee, but as part of the structure that’s going to hold this together while we fix it.

I look back at the desk, then around the room, grounding myself in the familiar before I say what comes next. “You should’ve come to me last night.”

“Last night wasn’t exactly the time,” she shoots back through gritted teeth. “After you yelled at me for leaving.”

“I didn’t yell…”

She rolls her eyes. “Okay, if you say so.”

“What I meant last night,” I say, “is that if someone’s targeting you, I need to know where you are. Not to control you. To protect the system we’re both trying to fix.”

She studies me, weighing that. “You can’t protect me by managing me.”

“I’m not trying to manage you.”

“You told me not to date Duke when all we did was go out for soup.”

There’s no way around that. “I was out of line.”

The words don’t come easily. They don’t come often.

Her brows lift.

“I don’t get to make that decision for you,” I continue.

“No,” she says. “You don’t.”

“I didn’t like it.”

Shit, the words came out of my mouth before I was ready for them. That level of honesty is a little much.

Her breath changes. “You don’t have to like it.”