Martin Luther King must be spinning in his grave. He couldn’t have imagined the hatred would have festered this long, flaring up stronger and hotter these past years.

  At least she wasn’t alone today, Ghost’s presence offering safety and comfort.

  She took his hand. He squeezed hers.

  Once they’d filled their cart, checked out, and loaded the truck, she raced to the ranch.

  “Better slow down.” He didn’t look up from his smartphone. “Deputies might be around. My guess is they’ll want to give you more than a speeding ticket.”

  Like a bullet to the head? Not wanting to bring up unpleasant shit, she didn’t share her thoughts. “My bad.” She slowed to a reasonable speed.

  He rested his hand on her thigh and scrolled through something on his screen.

  “What’s so interesting?”

  “Got a few text messages from the team about their patrol and where they’ll be tonight.”

  She placed his palm on her pussy. “I know where you’ll be.”

  “For hours and hours.” He leaned across the console and pecked her cheek, his stubble rasping her skin, his breath heating it. “Maybe you should hit the gas.”

  Grinning, she did, then slammed on the brakes.

  The pickup rocked.

  “Shit.” He gripped the seat. “Are you okay?”

  No.

  “Nic, answer me!” He touched her leg, arm, shoulder. “What happened?”

  Rather than look at him, she faced the windshield—what waited for them in the distance. “We have visitors.”

  Several men from Victor’s crew stood shoulder to shoulder blocking the entrance to her ranch. The pricks had even set up sawhorses. All were armed.

  Ghost grabbed his rifle. “Stay here.”

  “No.” She clutched his wrist. “I’ll handle this.”

  “What? They’re armed.”

  “So am I.” She pulled out her smartphone. Before Ghost could respond, she left the pickup and approached the group, phone raised and recording. “Get off my land!”

  The brawny man in front stepped forward, greasy hair clinging to his scalp, naked chest and belly protruding from his leather vest, his gang’s name and colors on the upper right, too far away for her to read. “Ain’t your land. Never has been. This portion belongs to Mr. Victor. He’s claiming it. We’re here to see you don’t trespass no more.”

  Shocked, she couldn’t find words.

  The men behind him chuckled. Some wore caps displaying their supremacist roots. Each bore garish tattoos and ugly smiles.

  She should have been afraid but outrage seethed within her, making her oddly calm. “He has no right to this property. Never did. Court after court has ruled against him.”

  “He doesn’t listen to a government that has no authority over him. The only rightful law in these parts is the sheriff, and he agrees with Mr. Victor and us. Now run along before you force us to get physical with you.”

  Her skin crawled at the thought of him or the others touching her, but only death would make her retreat. “We’ll see what the highway patrol says when they get here.”

  “This is a private road, bitch. Mr. Victor’s private road.”

  “Not the one my pickup is on.” She lowered the phone to call the authorities even if they weren’t the proper ones. She had to get someone out here to help.

  The man in front glared and spoke to the others. “Take that damn phone away from her then bring her to me. I’ll show her who’s boss.”

  Two men broke rank, both smoking cigarettes.

  Shots rang out.

  Bullets hit the dirt a breath away from their boots.

  They reared back.

  More shots cracked, as loud as thunder in the still air. One man’s cigarette flew from his hand, arced, and dropped to the ground, pulverized by the bullet. The other man’s smoke disappeared, or so it seemed. What was left of it lay in the dirt near his feet.

  Ghost approached, rifle pointed, finger on the trigger. He shouted, “One move, just one, and my next shots will part your goddamn hair and singe the hair on your nuts before you can blink, then I’ll go in for the fucking kill.”

  He fired again. His shot came so close to the lead man’s hand; he must have felt its heat and dropped his rifle.

  Ghost stepped forward again, firing at their feet, driving them back, shouting over the noise. “Want to guess how many of you I can take down before you squeeze off one shot?”

  The intruders scattered, taking off across the land toward Victor’s ranch.

  Before they vanished over the gentle hill, Ghost had his phone to his ear and spoke to whomever he’d called. “I want the entire patrol down at the ranch entrance now. Tell Nic’s people to station themselves at each entry point leading into the property, everyone armed and ready for trouble. I’ll explain further when you get here.” He ended the call.

  She touched his arm. “Are you all right?”

  “Are you?”

  “Yeah, they never got close. I filmed them.” She held up her phone.

  He glanced at it then at an area past her. “Looks like someone dropped his cell.”

  Sunlight glinted off the device. “I’ll get it.” She brought it back to him. “At least now we’ll know this person’s name.”

  “I’m hoping for a lot more.” He slipped the phone into his pocket, hung his rifle over his shoulder, then gripped her arms. “What in the hell is the matter with you approaching those goons by yourself? Did you want them to kill you or rape you first then put a bullet in your head?”

  “Of course not.” She tried to pull away.

  He wouldn’t let her.

  She slumped. “I was worried about you. I didn’t want them ganging up and doing anything because of your heritage.”

  “If that’s the case, you’d have to protect me from most people in this county.”

  “I will. I intend to.” She’d die for him. Not a silly romantic notion, the right one. They’d gotten Bryce, but couldn’t have Ghost. Even if she never saw him again after today, he was hers to protect while here.

  He mumbled something beneath his breath.

  She guessed it wasn’t sweet nothings. “What’s the matter? You don’t like a woman taking charge?”

  A smile tugged at his lips. He killed it and gave her a look. “You did just fine in bed. Out here’s different. Although I appreciate your concern, I won’t have you risking your safety. I can take care of myself.”

  “I saw.” Nothing in recent memory had dazzled her more. “Damn. You are one fine shot. Smart as fuck, too.”

  Puzzlement crossed his face. “Meaning?”

  “You didn’t draw blood or injure those SOBs in any way, giving them reason to have you arrested for attempted murder and to sue me for hiring help I can’t control. If that had happened, Victor would have surely bankrupted me with a civil suit and taken everything.”

  Ghost rubbed his forehead. “I don’t kill unless I have to. If they’d laid one finger on you…”

  “They didn’t. It’s over.”

  Motors sounded, pickups barreling from the ranch toward them, tires stirring up dust. His team.

  He looked at her. “Go to the main house, please.”

  Her stomach fell. “I thought we were going to the guesthouse.”

  “I have to talk to my men and do other things. I won’t be back for a while.”

  She wanted to argue her point but couldn’t bring him more trouble. Reluctantly, she stepped back. “No matter how long you take, I’ll wait for you in our bed.”

  Once in her pickup, she drove past him and around the barriers to deliver the promised groceries.

  Chapter 7

  Throughout the afternoon, Nic avoided the main house as much as she could, uncertain if she could hide her worry from her mom and Kanti. She begged off lunch, offering a lame excuse as to checking on the new calves then resuming her and Ghost’s perusal across the land. “I don’t know when I’ll be back. Please don’t wait dinner.”

  The older women looked hopeful, Kanti speaking first. “You and Ghost are getting along?”

  Her mother jumped in. “And hitting it off?”

  They had no idea. His scent, touch, voice, and laughter took up permanent residence in Nic’s thoughts, the same as her worry over whether he was all right.

  She haunted the guesthouse porch, dreading every unusual noise that might represent gunfire, her stomach queasy, palms damp. Uneasiness made her too skittish to sit on the swing. Pacing, she considered Victor’s men descending upon the ranch en masse, guns drawn and firing, like in a bad Western. Realistically, the scenario seemed unlikely. Bullies didn’t take the offense against a stronger opponent. They were too cowardly and proved it when Ghost had run them off. Their next move would be shrewder, as in ambushing him.

  Crap. She bit her lip hard enough to draw blood and pulled out her phone but couldn’t call him. He was a grown man, a bodyguard, and an ex-military sniper who’d seen worse in his overseas missions than anything Victor’s men could dole out here.

  He can take care of himself. His kickass shooting proved that. You need to chill.

  She did her best and retreated inside to review what she’d filmed. The shots were relatively steady, the lead creep framed well, several slimeballs behind him also in focus and, hopefully, recognizable to those who might know them, the audio perfect.

  Wanting more details, she chanced a trip to the main house to grab her laptop. To Nic’s relief, Kanti and her mom worked in the garden, tending their carrots, potatoes, green beans, and cucumbers.

  Back at the guesthouse, she scoured the net for motorcycle gang symbols, locating the one on the jerk’s vest. Next, she looked up the acronyms stitched on the caps some wore and recorded the supremacist groups’ names.

  YouTube offered numerous documentaries, detailing domestic terrorists and outlaw gangs spouting their racist filth. Their attacks on innocent people brought bile to her throat, but also gave her an idea.

  While she researched her plans, the front door opened.

  Her pulse leaped. She shot to her feet, the kitchen chair wobbling.

  Ghost stopped in the doorway, the sun low behind him. “Hey.” He put his rifle on a side table. “You all right?”

  She was now and threw herself into his arms. “Yeah.” She couldn’t get close enough, wanting to touch and smell him.

  He kicked the door closed, locked it, and hugged her. “You’re trembling. What happened?”

  Too much adrenaline and relief was still racing through her at his return. “I’m horny. You were gone too long.” She smacked his butt. “What happened out there?”

  “Nothing. Nor will it. The guys are positioned at every spot where Victor’s men might arrive, though I don’t think they will. I scared them pretty damn bad.”

  An understatement. “Is your team as expert at shooting as you?”

  “They are, and then some. Not that Victor’s shit will go on much longer now.”

  The “now” threw her. “What do you mean?”

  He eased back, elation dancing in his eyes like a kid at Christmas. “There’s something I want you to see.” He pulled her to a kitchen chair, sat, then settled her on his lap. “Comfortable?”

  Sitting like this beat out everything else. She touched her nose to his. “Completely. Is this what you wanted to show me? If it is, I’m already enjoying myself.”

  He kissed her hard then pressed his cheek to hers. “Keep that thought. This involves another matter.” With his arm wrapped around her waist, he leaned forward and pulled something from his back pocket.

  The phone Victor’s man had dropped.

  Her expectation ticked up several notches. “Please tell me there’s more than porn in there.”

  “You won’t believe what I’ve found, and I haven’t gone through the entire memory yet.” He brought up a video, the “start” arrow slightly below Victor’s face. His broad smile was creepy as shit and deepened the wrinkles on his cheeks and around his pale-blue eyes. He’d slicked back his salt-and-pepper hair and wore a silver-and-turquoise bolo tie, his white shirt spotless. “What is this?”

  “Listen.” Ghost started the video.

  Victor laughed, an obnoxious, sniggering sound. “Yeah, we got them good, didn’t we?”

  In the background, male voices murmured approval, one rising above the others. “Bryce Caldwell ain’t gonna give you trouble no more.”

  Her mouth went dry.

  “That’s right.” Victor poured himself a whiskey and took a sip. “Best thing is, no one will ever know what really happened to my dearly departed neighbor.”

  “Just as you wanted, Boss.” The same voice from before. “Your wire trick was pure genius. Quick. Easy. And deadly.”

  She gripped Ghost’s leg.

  Victor lowered his drink and glared to the side, presumably at the man. “You did remember to remove the wire, didn’t you?”

  “You bet, then threw it in the largest creek the next county over, exactly as you wanted.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Did anyone see you?”

  “Don’t know how they could. It was past midnight when I got there, not a light around or the moon, the surroundings darker than Caldwell’s squaw and the bitch’s mother.”

  The men laughed.

  You lousy… Obscenities rose in Nic’s throat. She forced them down, not wanting to miss a word.

  “Good.” Victor enjoyed his whiskey.

  Another man spoke. “What now, Boss?”

  “Lay low for a bit until this blows over. If Caldwell’s absence doesn’t get them to leave the state, which I believe it will, I have other plans.”

  “Such as?”

  “More lawsuits, what else? The best way I know for them to blow through Caldwell’s insurance money in a futile effort to protect themselves.”

  “What if that doesn’t work? It hasn’t yet.”

  “Then we’ll fuck with their cattle.” Victor chuckled. “I’d say it’s about time for another so-called alien attack the law won’t investigate.”

  “Why not eliminate the bitches?” Another man’s voice. “Those stupid whores won’t stand a prayer against us.”

  Victor tapped his forefinger against his glass. “We leave them for last. Draw this out. Make it pure torture. In no time at all, they’ll run so fast from the land, we won’t have a chance to wave goodbye.”

  Laughter and whistles erupted from the group.

  When the noise quieted, another man spoke. “What if they refuse to leave on their own?”

  “Then we help them along.” He shrugged. “Accidents do happen. Like with poor Bryce.” Victor’s wide smile showed his gums. “As far as his lowlife family’s concerned, no one will ever pin an unfortunate car accident or house fire on me. Not with Rettner and the judges in my pocket. I’m already drawing up plans for the property. No damn way is a darkie ever setting foot on that land again.”

  The video stopped.

  Nausea, hope, then caution warred within her. She feared this might be a trick. “Why in the world would Victor want this recorded?”

  “I doubt he knows it exists.” Ghost put the phone on the table and rubbed her back. “My guess is the man who shot this doesn’t trust Victor in the least. The video’s insurance against Boss trying to pin Bryce’s murder solely on the crew. Even though they carried it out, they could escape the death penalty by testifying against him. Everything Victor said proved he orchestrated the plan. That, alone, will get him a needle in the arm.”

  Nic preferred him wasting away in a cage. “What now? You can’t turn the video over to Rettner. He’ll destroy it. So will his deputies. No judge in this county will allow it either since Victor’s words implicates them. If we take it somewhere else…” She’d seen too many Law & Order programs to believe this evidence would make it to a jury. A slick attorney would find some arcane statute claiming Victor’s rights to privacy were more important than murder. Or would find a judge who agreed the evidence was too prejudicial to present, or illegally obtained, or whatever, ad nauseam. “We have to be careful.”

  Ghost gave her an odd look. “I wasn’t planning on doing anything less.”

  “I mean with how we present this.” An idea formed. Uncertain how crazy it might be, she pulled her computer over and brought up the page showing the militia and gang videos.

  He looked at the screen. “What are you doing?”

  “Finding a way to stop Victor from burying the video. We can’t turn it over to law enforcement.”

  “There’s no other choice.”

  “Sure there is.” She gestured to the screen. “Remember seeing videos showing cops shooting African Americans in the back and vigilantes harassing people of color for using the pool at their own apartment complexes, or napping in a dorm at a college they attend, or simply breathing while being a minority? The videos were out before the law or perps could do anything to suppress them. The public took over, demanding justice. With the country—hell, the world—cheering the good guys on, for once those in power had to pay. There wasn’t anywhere for them to hide or a reasonable way for them to explain away their behavior. Am I right?”

  He hugged her fiercely. “You are. Let me make a call.”

  “To whom?”

  “A person I know who’s great with computers and can have the video posted for us. We don’t want our names or IP addresses attached to this in any way. The information will come from an anonymous source…maybe the man who filmed this. I doubt he could wiggle out of that no matter how hard he tries to claim he didn’t do so. My friend will make certain of it.”

  “Can he or she have my video from earlier play after Victor’s and also add the pictures of the mutilated cattle? Those shots will prove his words—he intended to mess with the herd then Mom, Kanti, and me. It’s practically a script.”

  “I don’t see how that will be a problem. John’s a whiz at this stuff.”

  Ghost made his call.

  Chapter 8

  The video ran on major internet sites and ones Nic didn’t know existed. Within hours, it went viral and became the lead story on countless news channels. Talking heads discussed the terror Nic and her family had endured too long, each announcer appalled at how far Victor’s racism had driven him.

 

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