Page 70 of Savage Rancher
Luke's expression doesn't change, but I see the slight tension in his shoulders.
Turner leans back in his chair, completely at ease. "I have to admit, I'm curious about your interest in Iron Ridge. Small town, not much opportunity for men with your skill set. Unless you're here for something specific." His gaze settles on me. "Or someone."
"You have a point, Turner?" My voice is flat.
"Just making conversation." He smiles, warm, genuine-looking.
I’ve taken out cartel lieutenants who had snake smiles like that.
"I understand you've been spending time with Emma Hayes,” Turner continues. “That's interesting timing. You return to town right when she's dealing with her father's death and property pressures. Some might see that as opportunistic."
Mason shifts slightly.
Still smiling, Turner holds up his hands. "I'm not judging. I'm simply observing. Emma's in a difficult position. Large property, significant expenses, no family support. A woman in that situation needs allies. Real allies, not just”—he pauses, pretending to choose his words carefully—"temporary distractions."
I set my beer down slowly. "Emma's not your concern."
"Isn't she?” Turner tilts his head. "I've been trying to help her. I offered her fair market value for property she can't maintain and doesn’t want to. But she's been resistant. And now you're here, and I'm wondering if that resistance is really hers, or if it's being influenced."
"She makes her own decisions," I say evenly.
"Does she?" Turner adjusts his pant leg. "Because from where I'm sitting, it looks like you're making them for her. Security systems she didn't ask for. Surveillance she doesn't know about. Public displays of ownership." He gestures around the bar. "This, for instance. Very territorial. Is it really going to play out the way you think?"
The words land like precision strikes. He knows about the cameras. How the fuck does he know about the cameras?
Turner reads my expression, and his smile widens slightly. "I do my research, Mr. Callahan. It's how I stay successful in business. And what I've learned is that you're a man who operates outside conventional boundaries. Which makes me wonder, what exactly are you protecting Emma from? Or are you protecting yourself?"
Luke's hand moves slightly toward his belt.
Turner notices too. He stands slowly, buttoning his jacket with deliberate care. "Gentlemen, I'm not here to cause trouble. I'm simply here to establish that I'm not going anywhere. Emma's property is valuable. Very valuable. And I'm a patient man. I can wait for her to realize that selling is in her best interest." He pauses. "Or I can wait for other circumstances to make that decision easier for her."
A threat, wrapped in civility. I’m having none of it. "You're done here," I say quietly.
"Am I?" Turner’s expression remains pleasant. "I don't think so. See, you can make your public claim. You can position your team. You can install as much surveillance as you want. But at the end of the day, I'm the one with legitimate business interests. I'm the one with legal standing. And I'm the one who's been here, building relationships, establishing credibility." He leans forward slightly. "You're the outsider who was run out of town eighteen years ago and came back with blood on his hands."
My jaw tightens.
His voice drops, becoming almost intimate. "My brother’s disappearance is convenient for you. For Emma. Very convenient." He straightens. "I'm not my brother, Mr. Callahan. I don't make his mistakes. I don't underestimate my opponents, and I don't lose."
He steps back from the table, his expression shifting back to professional warmth. "Enjoy your evening, gentlemen. I'm sure I'll be seeing you around." His eyes find mine. "All of you."
Then he turns and walks back to the bar. Not retreating, not fleeing—just leaving on his terms. He settles back onto his stool, orders another whiskey, and pulls out his phone like nothing happened.
I ease back in my seat.
Luke whistles low. "Well, that was subtle."
"Wasn't supposed to be subtle." I take a sip of my beer. Where the fuck is Emma? I check my phone. She should be here by now.
Mason takes a drink. "He's going to be a problem."
He’s already a problem.
The door opens, and Emma walks in.
Everything else fades away for a moment. She's wearing jeans and a dark sweater under her open coat, her hair loose around her shoulders. She looks exhausted—like her call drained her—but she's here.
I stand before I realize I'm moving.
