Page 1 of Savage Rancher
1
JAKE
This is the part I like the most—not the violence, not the aftermath.
The waiting.
Because I've made a decision and I'm going to act. Because I know where the enemy is and how I'm going to take him out.
Pulling my black Stetson lower, I lean against the hood of Emma’s RAV4, cloaked by shadows, scanning the street. Iron Ridge has grown since I left eighteen years ago, but it’s still a small town. 2100, and most people are at home or here in the bar.
Tonight, I only care about two people: Emma Hayes and Eli Turner.
Emma is inside. I watched her park her car and go into the bar ten minutes ago—ten minutes before she’s supposed to meet Turner. He should be here any minute.
I glance at the entrance. The neon sign flickersRusty Spur, buzzing like a dying insect. Red light bleeds across the gravel lot in uneven pulses. Part of me wonders what the hell I’m doing standing out here in the cold night—spring in Montana is no joke—when I should be in there with Emma. I should throw her overmy shoulder and take her to Blackthorn Ranch and keep her there.
The other, stronger part of me—the part that’s trained to complete the mission no matter what the cost—is locked in. Handling this situation is better for Emma in the long run.
Taking the gloves out of my pocket, I tug them on and flex my hands. And handle it I will.
Eli Turner is already dead. He just doesn't know it yet.
2
EMMA
Hank slides the beer across the bar with a sympathetic look. It’s the kind of look people give you when they know you're about to do something stupid.
I can’t think of anything stupider than being here alone.
Like I have a choice. I grip the sweating bottle in my hand. “Thanks, Hank.”
"You waiting on someone, Em?" he asks, his weathered face creased with concern. He’s owned the Rusty Spur for as long as I can remember. When I was a kid, my dad would bring me here, and Hank would make me a “cocktail.” The Shirley Temple still has a special place in my heart. He’s known me all my life, so he knows it’s weird for me to be here alone. He can probably also see I’m damn tense.
“You could say that.” I lift the beer and salute him before I take a small sip.
He frowns. “Harper Garrett?”
I wish. If there’s anyone I wish was here with me, it’d be my bestie, the deputy sheriff. Or Jake Callahan.
Do not think about Jake.
I take another sip of beer. I should have ordered whiskey. “I’m waiting on Eli Turner.”
His frown deepens. “Why the hell are you meetinghim?”
Because he gave me no choice—not unless I want him to corner me alone again.
I shudder. That’s the last thing I want. I’m a wildlife photographer, and I’ve been in scary situations with animals, but none of them compare to Eli’s predatory gaze over my tits as he says, “You don’t look like you know how to say no. Not that I care what you say.”
Yeah, that happened earlier today.
I clear my throat. “He wants to talk to me about buying the Circle H.”
Hank rears back. “You aren’t going to sell your dad’s ranch, are you?”
I flash him a wry grin. “And risk having Dad rise up from the grave and yell at me? No thanks.”
