Rope the Moon (Runaway Ranch, #2)(20)

It’ll all be okay.

Bullshit. Nothing about this is okay.

Dakota’s forced words of bravado do nothing to instill confidence in me. No matter how much she wants to act like she has it handled, she doesn’t.

The only consolation I have right now is that she’s secure in the lodge, with me on guard.

An hour after the light in her room turns off, I stomp for the Bullshit Box, the place where I run all the ranch’s security operations. AKA another place for me and my brothers to bullshit.

I hate leaving Dakota alone, but I need a place to stew.

A place to dig.

When I get there, I head for my desk and take a seat. With my gaze on the computer monitor, I type Dakota McGraw into the search engine and scroll through the results.

Does the perfect cupcake exist? Yes, it does. And I found it at DC’s Milk & Honey, the boulangerie and bakery owned by pastry chef Dakota McGraw.

Accompanying the article is a photo of Dakota leaning back against a glass bakery case. She’s wearing a chef’s coat, her ebony hair cascading around her shoulders. On her red lips, a sly smile.

She looks proud. Happy.

She made it. She did it.

This photo isn’t new to me. I’ve looked at it a dozen times over the last two years. A reminder that she was meant to leave Resurrection. That I did the right thing by letting her go.

A rock wedges itself in my throat at the thought, but I clear it and focus on the task at hand.

Leaning back in my groaning metal chair, I keep scrolling until I find what I’m looking for. My attention lasers in on numerous articles from The Washington Post.

Fire Destroys Popular DC Bakery, Investigation Underway

Grease Fire at Milk & Honey Bakery Deemed Accidental

No Injuries in Midnight Bakery Blaze

Police Concerned for Well-being of Pastry Chef Dakota McGraw in Connection with Fire; Not Considered a Suspect

I rub a hand over my jaw. “Fuck.”

It’s good she’s back here. Resurrection will let her lie low. She can speak to the authorities and the insurance company over the phone. Because Dakota flying back to DC and being in the same state with the motherfucker who put hands on her is not happening.

If he comes after her, I have to be ready.

People go after the things they want. Especially when they’re out for vengeance. I’m not holding out hope that this guy miraculously fades into the ether.

To keep her safe, I have to keep her close.

Which means no surprises. Which means I plan.

Which means I need her entire story. If I know who he is, I can keep tabs on him. Because I already know I’m going to have my hands full keeping tabs on Dakota.

But she has to tell me in her own time. If the Marines have taught me anything, it’s that pushing never helps. It makes you clam up. It makes you run.

“You in here sulking?”

Ford steps through the door, followed by Charlie and Wyatt.

“No,” I lie, already wishing I can get back to my quiet evening of plotting someone else’s murder.

My twin smirks. “Liar.”

“Thought you could use this.” Wyatt sets a beer on the desk and heads to the dartboard.

“Thanks.” I switch over to the security monitors abruptly and scan the tense faces of my brothers. “What’s going on?”

Charlie drops into his chair, scraping a hand over his beard. He glances down at Keena, who’s curled up next to the space heater. “Rest of the dogs locked up?”

My skin prickles at the tone in his voice. “Yeah. Why?”

“Some maverick wolf’s tearing through the ranches,” Charlie says. “Marvin lost a couple of chickens late last night.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose and exhale. Fuck. Another goddamn problem. Last year, we had the Wolfingtons. Now we have to deal with actual fucking wolves. “Where? On the ranch?”

“Perimeter.” Ford hangs back against the wall, arms crossed. “Near the woods.”

“Set a trap,” I tell him. “Nothing lethal. We’re not killing wolves.”

This land belongs to them just as much as us. Our livestock, however, are off-limits.

“How was the rescue?” Ford asks, reaching into his desk drawer and opening a package of cinnamon hard candy. He’s been obsessed with them since the major leagues, trying to substitute them for tobacco.

“How do you think?” My words come out stony. “You saw her.”

Ford’s amber eyes flash. “Yeah. I did.”

A muscle jumps in Charlie’s jaw. “Take her to Stede?”

I flatten my lips, scanning the room. All of my brothers wear the same look of reckless fury crawling beneath my skin. “Earlier tonight.”

One of the hardest fucking things I’ve ever had to do. Stede kept it together, but I saw it all over his face. The devastation of a man who wasn’t able to protect the one he loved.

Ford rolls the candy around in his mouth, then says, “So, she’s gonna heal, find a job, and have a baby. Is that what this is?”

I have the sudden urge to drink the beer all in one sitting. “Yeah,” I grunt. “Rebuild.”

Wyatt whistles. “That’s a lot.”

“She’s got it.” I open the beer and take a sip. “She’s strong.”