Nikos stares at me, jaw tight now. “You’re turning down double the money.”
I straighten. “I’m telling you loyalty matters more. Look around, does it look like I’m short of cash? What am I going to do with a fancy supercar other than cover it in fucking dirt?”
I pause, watching their reactions. The disappointment on their faces when they realize money really can’t buy everything.
“And the fact you think we can be bought tells me exactly why nobody should trust you.”
Silence hangs heavy in the stable.
Then I add, calmly… “And if even one more of your men steps foot on my land?” I tip my hat slightly. “They’ll end up buried beside the others in our pasture. Because that’s what happens when you fuck with cowboys. We have our own rules.”
Stefanos bristles. “Is that a threat?”
I meet his gaze, expression flat. “No. That’s how we do hospitality.”
The brothers stand slowly. “You’re making enemies,” Nikos says.
I shrug. “Only if you’re stupid.”
They leave without another word, loafers crunching toward their fancy-ass cars.
Ace whistles once they’re gone. “Think that's going to be the end of this?”
I glance toward the back of the ranch where the graves sit hidden beyond the ridge. “No.”
Colten exhales. “So we’re going to war.”
I adjust my hat. “Looks like it. Eventually.”
It was always going to happen. Mafia or not. Someone is always after what we have. My father dealt with the same battles. It's the nature of our life. It’s why he cut a deal with Enzo. And why he decided to have me in on that deal, and make sure I was the one to continue it after he died.
We just have to make sure we win it.
But as the SUVs disappear down the drive, something else drifts back into my mind.
Cherry-red curls. Green eyes. A firefly slipping through my fingers. And suddenly mafia negotiations seem a hell of a lot easier than figuring out Lola.
I walk over to Tornado’s stall and run a hand down his neck. He snorts softly, nudging my shoulder, already impatient to get out.
“At least someone around here listens,” I grumble, scratching behind his ear.
“Everything set for Wyatt’s party tomorrow?” I ask, glancing over my shoulder at Ace.
He’s leaning against the barn door like he’s personally responsible for Christmas morning.
“The bounce house is comin’ in an hour,” he says proudly. “Guys are setting up the hunting game in the back woods.”
I turn slowly, eyebrow lifting. “Hunting game? These kids are six, Ace.”
He shrugs. “Kid version. They go find hidden stuff and shoot targets with fake guns. Honestly sounds like the kinda shit I would’ve loved as a kid.”
I snort, shaking my head. Ace was feral even as a kid, had us all runnin’ around after him.
I walk over and clap a hand on his shoulder. “Fine. You can host the game.”
His grin widens. “Duh. I’m the fun uncle.”
Then his expression shifts slightly. “Oh. Yeah. The catering company called earlier and said they’ve got a staffing issue and are looking to hire in extra help. I told ’em it was fine.”