Page 34 of Danger

The Kennedys glance at their ranch hand like they aren’t sure that was a smart thing to say. He’s out of his lane, but they haven’t said shit because they know better. This new one, I take it he doesn’t.

Little does he know that ranch hand shot Trouble, so I put him in the ground.

“You must be Danger. Can’t figure out why they call you that. You look more like a pretty boy than a problem.”

I tilt my head. “They didn’t tell you? Funny thing about the guy you replaced—you know, the one we ‘got messy’ with? He shot my brother. I shot back. Only difference is”—I tap my chest with two fingers—“I didn’t miss the artery I was aiming for.”

His smile slips.

“Since you’re filling his spot and all,” I add quietly, “learn from his mistake. Last time one of ya’ll didn’t walk away. And all it cost me was a few bullets. You really wanna see what I’m willing to spend now?”

Copper nods, sizing me up. The other two look at him like they’re waiting around to help him get his dick out of his pants. “Someone from your crew paid the Kennedy’s a little visit last night. We wanna know why. We wanna know who.”

I stare him down. “We wouldn’t waste a minute of our time on your piece of shit ranch.”

He doesn’t like that. He raises the club, points it at the truck again. “Wrong answer. You come near us, our shit, we break yours. Eye for an eye.”

Now I know with certainty the Kennedy’s didn’t let this man know who I am. Did him a real disservice.

I step closer. “You smash that headlight, I’ll break every bone that holds your dumbass together.”

He grins like he has no idea I don’t fuck around. It’s all games in his eyes, and then he swings the club. It connects with the headlight in a crash of broken plastic and glass. I don’t look at the wreckage or at him. I just see red.

I glance at Trouble and Rogue. “Just to be clear: I did warn him, right?”

They both nod.

The second he shifts his weight, I step in, grab the club—he tries to keep hold, but he’s not strong enough. I ram the handle straight into his stomach. A gasp barely escapes him. I yank the club free and drive it into his ribs. He drops immediately. I don’t let up. The Kennedy’s move, but Trouble and Rogue hold them off.

He’s back on his feet faster than I expect. Then he swings a punch, and it lands on my cheekbone, splitting my skin. I flip the club and press the shaft against his throat as I walk him backwards. We hit Rogue’s truck. He’s choking, grumbling, but his eyes are angry. I lean in so he can smell the whiskey.

“Men get brave thinkin’ nobody’s gonna swing back. You’re the second person today to forget who the fuck I am.”

First was Rylee.

His voice comes out garbled. “Just tell us who came to the ranch.”

“Didn’t we already go over this?”

My voice is low, but fury vibrates through it. I shove him harder against the hood of the truck, the club locked tight across his throat. His face darkens—red first, then a sickly shade of white as he claws at my arm.

One of the Kennedy's yells, voice cracking with panic, “We saw the Stetson Ranch logo on the truck that left. Only one home was our sister, and she didn’t see nothin’.”

I don’t know what the hell they’re talking about—not yet. But that’s a problem for ten minutes from now, not while I’m choking the life out of a grown man in a bar parking lot.

I lean in, voice quiet enough so only the man I’m strangling can hear how serious I am.

“Leave now… or stay and leave in a bag. Your call.”

He shoves weakly at me, desperate for air. I let up just enough for him to gasp and stagger back, coughing. His eyes meet mine. They’re filled with something between rage and terror—because now he knows exactly why they call me Danger.

“We’ll find out what ya’ll were up to and which one of you it was,” Copper spits, chest heaving. “And when we do, I’ll end whoever it is.”

“Put it on the calendar.”

Then, before he can take another step, I swing the club low and fast. It cracks against his kneecap with a sound that probably just turned a few stomachs.

He collapses, screaming. The Kennedy’s rush him, half-dragging, half-carrying him toward their truck.