Page 19 of Dirty Sweet Cowboy

thirteen

. . .

Wayne

I spot the dust cloud from the approaching vehicle before I hear the engine. Someone coming up my drive. Fast. Too fast for a casual visitor. My hand automatically moves to the small of my back where my Glock usually sits when I'm working fence lines far from the house, but today I'm unarmed. Doesn't matter. I've taken down men bigger than me with just my hands. And whoever this is, they're on my property. My territory. Where Judy is. A primitive protectiveness surges through my blood, making my vision sharpen, my muscles tense.

I drop the fence post I've been working on and stride toward the house. Judy's inside, baking something that's been filling the place with the scent of cinnamon all morning. She's been more relaxed lately, more settled. Happy. If this visitor brings trouble...

The truck comes into full view now—old, beat-up Ford with out-of-state plates. Not local. Not anyone I know. My jaw clenches as it screeches to a halt in my yard, gravel spraying. The driver's door flies open, and a man jumps out. Mid-thirties, wiry build, nervous energy pouring off him in waves. There's something familiar about him, though I'm certain we've never met.

"Hey!" he calls, slamming the door behind him. "This the Thompson ranch?"

My eyes narrow. "It's my ranch. Wayne Campbell."

He looks disappointed, glancing around like he's searching for something. Someone. "I was told Judy Miller might be here."

Every muscle in my body goes rigid. Judy. He's looking for my Judy. And by the twitchy way he's scanning the property, the desperation in his voice, he's not here for a friendly visit.

"Who's asking?" My voice drops an octave, taking on the edge that used to make new recruits back in my military days piss themselves.

"Family friend," he says quickly. Too quickly. "Her folks are worried sick. She took off without a word."

Liar. Judy never talks about her family, but I've gathered enough from her nightmares, from the haunted look in her eyes when something reminds her of her past, to know that whoever this asshole is, he's no friend.

"No one here by that name," I say, moving subtly to position myself between him and the house. "Think you've got the wrong ranch."

His eyes harden, something ugly flashing across his face. "Look, man, I know she's here. Been tracking her for weeks. Just let me talk to her, that's all. Got a message from her uncle."

Uncle. The word makes something click. A fragment of a nightmare Judy had our third night together, when she whimpered in her sleep, begging someone to stop, not to touch her. Calling them uncle.

Red washes across my vision. This man isn't just trouble. He's the worst kind of predator.

"Like I said," I repeat, voice deadly calm now, "no one here by that name. Time for you to leave my property."

He takes a step forward, trying to look around me toward the house. "Listen, dickhead, I know she's here. I'm not leaving without her. Her uncle paid me good money to bring her back, and that's what I'm gonna do."

Paid. This piece of shit is a lackey. And he wants to take my girl back to whoever hurt her. The rage that surges through me is cold, calculating, and absolute.

I step forward, using my height and bulk to tower over him. His eyes widen slightly as he realizes just how big I am. Just how dangerous.

"She's not going anywhere," I say, each word precise and clipped. "Not with you. Not ever."

"You don't understand," he tries, backing up a step. "She's in trouble. Owes people money. Could face charges."

"Bullshit." I take another step forward, forcing him back toward his truck. "Here's what's going to happen. You're going to get in that piece of shit truck, drive off my land, and never come back. You're going to forget you ever heard the name Judy. Forget you traced her here."

"You can't⁠—"

I move faster than he expects, closing the distance between us in one stride, grabbing him by the front of his shirt and lifting him until his feet barely touch the ground. His eyes go wide with fear.

"She's mine," I growl, face inches from his. "Under my protection. Touch her and you die."

The threat isn't empty. I mean every word. I would end this man without hesitation if he tried to take Judy. Would bury his body where no one would ever find it. The cold certainty of this should disturb me. It doesn't.

"Understand me clearly," I continue, voice low and lethal. "If I ever see your face again, if anyone else shows up looking for her, if she has even one more nightmare about her so-called family, there won't be enough of you left to identify."

I drop him, and he staggers back against his truck, hand going to his throat where my fist had bunched his collar.