Booted (Trails of Sin 3)

I pause on the porch and stare down at my stolen boots. “Maybe I should just—”

He releases the screen door and turns away, letting the heavy frame whack my bruised shoulder.

I bounce out of the way and rub the hurt, glaring at his back.

The door clicks shut, leaving me outside as his hulking frame moves deeper into the house and vanishes around the corner.

My throat closes. It’s not like I expected him to hold my hand or anything. He doesn’t like me or want me here. But damn, if he’s going to help me, he could make an effort to remove his head from his clenched ass.

Now I have to go in there by myself. Where I’m not welcome. Dread knots in my stomach, and my ears burn.

The family’s probably talking about me.

Let them.

I refuse to walk around with my head hanging.

The only thing I own is my body, and I sold it to survive. I promised myself that the better would come after the worse, and through the years, that hope burned stronger inside me than the hell around me.

I don’t think anything burns in me now. Hope died with Tiana. The worse happened. I’m due for a little dose of better, but the odds aren’t in my favor. Not with John aiming to put me back in chains.

Nightfall squeezes around the house, the dark depths stirring with shadows and skittering noises. Lorne doesn’t think John will return to the ranch, but I’m not so sure. John could be watching me right now.

Being his whore again is less enticing than being dead.

If I stay here, I’ll be surrounded by three lethal cowboys who would put John in the grave before allowing him on their land. I’m safer on the ranch than out there on my own. And if I learn how to shoot a gun, my chance of survival greatly improves.

With a resigned breath, I head inside and lock the door behind me. Creeping through the house, I follow the muffled sounds of voices on the porch.

At the back door, I set down the backpack and peer through glass.

Outside, Lorne leans his butt against the railing, fingertips in his front pockets, and boots crossed at the ankles, epitomizing the casual cowboy pose. But there’s nothing casual about his expression.

His gaze locks onto mine, jaw squared with sharp angles and mouth pressed in a tight line. He lifts a hand and crooks a finger at me through the glass.

Jake paces beside him, all tense and scowly. Conor perches on the small outdoor sofa, and across from her, Jarret sprawls in a cushioned chair with Maybe on his lap.

Expressions are strained, postures stiff and voices heated.

I open the door and step out. When all eyes turn in my direction, I focus on Maybe’s.

“I’m sorry for stealing your clothes.” I brush a hand down the sundress. “And boots. I’ll clean them and return them tomorrow.”

“That’s okay. Just ask me next time.” She nods at my feet. “Keep the boots. I don’t know why I bought them. Jarret’s are the only ones I wear.”

“I can’t—”

“I insist.”

“Thank you.” My shoulders relax a fraction, and I glance at the others. “I rifled through your pantry and took some of your food. I’m sorry—”

“I don’t care about the food.” Jake folds his arms across his chest, staring down at me from a few feet away. “Lorne says you intend to kill John Holsten.”

“That’s right.” I raise my chin.

“Did you consider how that might affect my family?”

My ribs squeeze. “I thought you’d approve.”

“You also thought it would be a good idea to fuck my worthless cunt of a father.” His nostrils flare. “Keep thinking, Raina. Someday, you might come up with something intelligent.”

“Jake,” Lorne says in warning tone.

“It’s fine.” I stand taller despite the hurt in my chest. “Jake can be an asshole all he wants in his own house.”

“I ‘preciate your permission,” Jake says in the coldest drawl I’ve ever heard.

“I agree with Jake on this.” Jarret sets Maybe on the chair and rises to stand beside his brother, his gaze on Lorne. “You brought her here—”

“Actually, you and I brought her here,” Maybe says.

“But Lorne brought her back, knowing she’s a target.” Jarret turns to Lorne. “You might as well invite dear ol’ Dad to move back in. We can be one big happy fucking family again.”

“That’s enough, Jarret.” Conor shifts to the edge of the couch.

“He’s right,” I whisper.

My presence here will pull John back into this family, and they’ve suffered enough under his tyranny.

“I’ll leave.” I move toward the door.

“Stop.” Lorne’s harsh tone freezes my steps. He waits until I turn around before addressing the others. “I’m going to teach her how to use a gun and protect herself. What she does after that is up to her.”

“That’s your plan?” Jake widens his eyes, the whites around his brown irises glowing in the light.