Nothing. He just stares at me with bloodshot eyes that have accepted what’s coming but refuse to give me what I want on the way there.
“Are you tracking me? My family?”
He laughs. “Fuck you, cowboy.”
I stand. Wipe my hands on my pants and grab him by the scruff of the neck. “Only one person in this world gets to call me that now. And that’s my wife.” I hiss so my brothers don’t hear. “Ace. Get me a rope.”
Ace doesn’t ask questions. He pulls a lasso off the wall hook and tosses it to me. I’m surprised my other two brothers haven’t said anything, I suppose now ain’t the time.
Colten shifts his weight. He knows what’s coming.
I loop the rope around the Greek’s neck. Not tight enough to strangle, and I knot it, tug it once to test the give, and then walk out of the barn with the other end in my fist.
Tornado is saddled in the pen. He stamps when he sees me coming, like he can smell the adrenaline. I swing up into the saddle and wrap the rope around the horn. “Bring him out,” I call.
Ace and Colten drag the Greek through the barn doors and into the daylight. He squints against the sun, rope tight around his throat, bare feet scraping the dirt.
I click my tongue, and Tornado moves.
The rope snaps taut. The Greek stumbles, then falls, and then he’s being dragged across the yard. His body bounces over rocksand ruts and hard-packed earth, dust kicking up behind him in a pale cloud.
I keep the pace steady. Not fast enough to kill him. Fast enough to peel the skin from his back. He screams. The sound carries across the ranch. The horses in the far paddock lift their heads. The cattle don’t even blink. I take him out half a mile and loop back, letting Tornado walk the return so the rope drags the Greek through his own blood trail.
By the time we’re back at the barn, he’s barely conscious. His back is raw. His suit pants are shredded. He’s making sounds that aren’t words anymore. I dismount. Hand Tornado’s reins to Colten, and crouch down beside the Greek. “Ready to talk?”
He coughs blood into the dirt. Shakes his head.
Stubborn son of a bitch.
Beau steps forward. Reaches into the Greek’s pant pocket and pulls out a phone. It’s cracked from the drag, but the screen still lights up.
I snatch it from Beau’s hand before he can unlock it. “Romeo can hack this,” I say, pocketing it. The Greek’s eyes widen. The first real fear I’ve seen in them.
Good. Let him be afraid of what’s on that phone.
I stand and turn to Ace. “Finish up.”
Ace nods. No further instruction needed. I look down at the Greek one last time. He’s lying in the dirt on my property, bleeding from a dozen places, rope still around his neck, staring up at me like a man who knows he’s watching his last sunset.
“I left my wedding day for this,” I tell him with venom. “And you’re going to die for being such an inconvenience.”
I turn my back on him and walk toward the house.
I’m three steps away when I hear it. “Wedding day?”
Colten is staring at me. Beau has gone very still.
“Yeah.” I roll my neck. “I married Lola this afternoon.”
Colten blinks. Opens his mouth. Closes it. Opens it again. “You… married her.”
“Courthouses are open on weekdays, Colt. Turns out it’s pretty quick when you know what you want.”
“You’ve known her for?—”
“Long enough.”
Colten stares at me for a long beat. Then shakes his head and lets out a breath that sounds like surrender. “Well. Congratulations. I’m happy for you, brother. An invite would have been good.”