Page 81 of Roping Her Alien Ranchers
“We are not employees,” Cyro clarified, his formal tone somehow making the statement more threatening. “We are Tammy’s... companions.”
The way he said “companions” carried a weight of meaning that wasn’t lost on Derek. His face darkened, jealousy and disgust warring in his expression.
“Jesus Christ, Tammy,” he spat. “You’re telling me you’ve got three live-in boyfriends now? That’s how you’re paying the bills? They pound in a couple of fence posts by day, and then they pound you a couple times come night?”
Heat climbed my face—half embarrassment, half fury. “That is none of your business.”
“It is when you’re destroying what should have been our ranch,” he snapped. “You’re living like some kind of—”
“Careful,” I interrupted, my voice dropping to a dangerous register. God, I’d never heard myself sound like that before. I hated the person Derek made me become. “Your next words may determine whether you leave this property on your feet or on a stretcher.”
As if they understood what I meant—what a stretcher was and that I was threatening Derek with bodily harm—my men moved fractionally closer.
Derek’s gaze darted between the three aliens, finally seeming to register the genuine threat they posed. But Derek had never known when to back down.
“You know what?” he said, pulling his phone from his pocket. “I think I’ll just call my buddy at the county sheriff’s office. See if he’d like to check the immigration status of your new... companions. Or maybe the IRS would be interested in how you’re paying for labor without filing any employment taxes.”
Panic seized my throat. Government officials. Investigations. Documentation that my aliens definitely didn’t have. My mind spun with nightmare scenarios—men in hazmat suits, area quarantines, my aliens trapped in underground labs being dissected by grim-faced scientists.
“Derek, don’t—” I started, but he was already thumbing through his contacts, a smug smile spreading across his face.
“What’s wrong, darlin’? Worried about something?” he taunted. “Just admit you need my help. Say the words, and this all goes away.”
I felt sick. If he made that call, everything would unravel. Not just my ranch, but the aliens’ safety, their mission, their very lives. They could be captured, studied, killed—all because my ex-fiancé couldn’t stand that I’d chosen independence over his control.
“These men have work visas,” I lied desperately. “They’re agricultural specialists from... from Iceland.” It was the first place that came to mind that might explain their occasionally formal English and pale complexions. “Everything’s legal. There’s no need to involve anyone else.”
Derek’s smile widened, knowing he’d found my weakness. “Iceland, huh?” He looked pointedly at Kalith’s golden-tanned skin and Vantor’s darker complexion. “Interesting place, Iceland. Lot of diversity there, is there?”
“You’d be surprised,” I said weakly.
“I’m sure I would be.” Derek lowered his phone but didn’t put it away. “So, what’s it going to be, Tammy? My money and protection, or should I make this call and see what shakes out?”
Desperation clawed at my insides. I’d been backed into a corner, and Derek knew it. The ranch or the aliens. An impossible choice. I opened my mouth, not even sure what would come out, when I realized that Cyro and Kalith had silently disappeared from beside me.
Where had they gone? And more importantly, what were they planning?
Derek’s fingers closed around my upper arm like a vise, digging into my flesh with enough force that I knew I’d have bruises shaped like his fingerprints tomorrow. The sudden pain stole my breath, a reminder of all the times he’d grabbed me like this when we were together—not enough to leave marks, just enough to show who was really in charge. But this time, in his anger, he’d forgotten to be careful. This time, there would be evidence.
“You listen to me,” he hissed, yanking me closer. “I built everything you have. I taught you everything you know about horses, about ranching. You’d still be painting your nails in a city apartment if it wasn’t for me.”
A low, guttural sound emerged from Vantor’s chest, a growl so primal it barely seemed human… because it wasn’t.
Before I could blink, his hand clamped down on Derek’s wrist, applying pressure to nerve points that made my ex’s fingers spring open involuntarily.
“You will not touch her,” Vantor stated, each word precise and deadly.
Derek snatched his hand back, rubbing his wrist where angry red marks were already forming. “Keep your hands off me, you—” He bit off whatever slur had been about to escape his lips, his gaze darting around. “Where’d your other two boyfriends go? Calling their alien friends to beam them up?”
He’d meant it as a joke, a jab at their foreignness, but I felt my heart skip a beat at how close he’d accidentally come to the truth. I glanced around, realizing that Cyro and Kalith had indeed vanished. My stomach tightened. I wasn’t sure if their absence was good or bad news.
“You think you’re so clever,” Derek continued, his face flushing an ugly red. “Little Tammy Tucker playing ranch boss with her stable of foreign studs. But we both know something’s not adding up here.” He gestured expansively around the property. “A week ago, this place was falling apart. Now suddenly you’ve got new fencing, repaired outbuildings, and those two horses that have hated each other since day one are supposedly making baby horses?”
“It’s called hard work,” I snapped. “A crazy concept that you wouldn’t recognize if it bit you on your designer-jeaned ass.”
Derek’s laugh was ugly, cutting. “Hard work doesn’t explain this kind of turnaround. Not without money. And we both know you don’t have any.” His eyes narrowed. “So. what is it, Tammy? Drugs? Running some kind of underground gambling operation? Or maybe—” his gaze raked over me insultingly, “—maybe you’re just servicing your new friends and charging premium rates for exotic pussy.”
The words hit like a physical slap. Even Vantor seemed momentarily stunned by the crudeness of the accusation, his protective stance momentarily faltering.
