Page 27 of Your Worst Fear
“Givin’ you a hard time?” I asked.
Austin heaved a breath, barely glancing at me before shooting mental daggers at the machine. “It still won’t fucking start.”
“We go through this every winter. Shouldn’t you know what you’re doing by now?” We primarily used this tractor to plow snow on the property, and while it hadn’t begun dumping snow yet, we’d need it soon.
Something shuffled somewhere in the barn, Booker likely the culprit.
“I work on it every fucking time, and it’s always a different issue,” Austin gritted out.
I shrugged, crossing one ankle over the other. “Sounds like you don’t know what you’re doing then.”
Austin’s narrowed eyes landed on me. Clearly, neither of us were in the mood for this shit. “You wanna take a stab at it, dumbass? Seems like all you do is stand around like a fucking peanut gallery and don’t get any real work done.”
“Austin,” Booker warned, appearing from the other hallway. The barn was huge, with stalls lining the center. The front, where we were now, had a garage-type area where we could work on equipment. The side I had come from was larger, holding extra supplies, snowmobiles, side-by-sides, old tack, and hay.
While Booker was also a grumpy asshole, he was at leastself-aware. Austin, on the other hand, was a little more self-absorbed when it came to his attitude.
“No”—Austin walked over to the ratchet and picked it up, then tossed it right at my stomach—“let the know-it-all try. He seems to be a pro at everything.”
I grabbed the handle before it could knock the breath out of me, but the end still got a good hit on my rib.
“What the fuck crawled up your ass today?” Booker asked Austin, irritation blaring in his tone. He hated when we did this. Unfortunately, three men being around each other nearly twenty-four seven made for a hell of a lot of testosterone waiting to explode.
“Don’t worry, Aus.” I dropped the tool, the clang of metal on concrete loud. “I won’t be a problem much longer.”
Booker’s focus turned my way. “What the fuck does that mean?”
The anger previously showing on Austin’s face was wiped away, replaced with frustrated curiosity.
My lips pressed into a flat line as I silently cursed myself for opening my mouth. I was annoyed, and my inability to control that led to the one thing I didn’t want to happen: the guys knowing someone wanted me dead.
“Nothing,” I said, even though I knew that wouldn’t slide.
Booker’s arms crossed. “That’s not justnothing, Henley.”
“Spit it out,” Austin demanded. Impatience ran through the lot of us.
There was no way out of this, other than telling them the situation at hand. Austin was persistent as hell, andBooker had no sense of boundaries. Even if I didn’t say what was going on, they’d dig until they figured it out themselves.
Might as well save them the time so this wouldn’t be drawn out.
“Alright, fine.” I shifted back into my stance against the beam, as if it’d make this sound any more casual. “Someone was hired to kill me.”
Telling them my hired killer was Grace would likely not result in any brownie points for her, and with her spending more time with their girlfriends, I didn’t want that potentially coming between any of them.
“Tokillyou?” Austin’s voice was a bit too loud, making me extra thankful we lived in the middle of nowhere with no prying ears.
“Who would want you dead?” Booker questioned, likely already running through the possibilities in his head.
We’d been on the outs with a dangerous group ever since I lost the deed to the ranch in a bet. We stole it back, but that didn’t remove the target from our heads. Brynne and McKenna had suffered for it, and now I wondered if the focus had shifted to me. When those issues had arisen, though, those other guys hadn’t been afraid to do their own dirty work. It wasn’t likely they’d pay someone else to do it.
Because of that, I had reason enough to believe they weren’t involved. I’d pissed off plenty of other people over the years.
It was kind of my specialty.
My phone began vibrating in the front pocket of my jeans, text after text coming through. I didn’t have friendsother than Austin and Booker, so the notifications only meant one thing.
I pulled out the device, ignoring the guys pestering me for answers as I clicked the first text.
