Prologue
Tobias
Stepping through my front door after a long day dealing with one problem after another, all I want is a tall glass of iced tea and a hot meal before hitting the shower. My bones ache from baling hay and wrangling a dozen little lambs that broke free. They “baa’ed” their happy little hearts out as they played in the fields.
I take off my hat and run my hands through my hair. Damn, I need a haircut. Rolling my head, I crack my neck and then stretch my shoulders back. My stomach rumbles, reminding me it’s well past dinnertime. Irritation hits me immediately when I don’t smell food cooking. Snarling to myself, I hang up my hat on the rack by the door before making my way toward the kitchen to see if she made a salad again. I already warned the woman that I worked too damn hard to eat a salad for dinner.
I fucking hate salads. I’m six five, two-fifty, and in great physical condition, and I need real damn calories to keep my body fueled. As a former athlete, I’d max six thousand calories just to keep muscle. Now retired, I still need four thousand because I stay busy on my family ranch.
I push open the swinging kitchen door and stare. “Son of a bitch.” There’s not a damn thing on the stove—no pots simmering or dishes on the counter.
Nothing.
Where the hell is that woman? My cook and housekeeper, Nina, started working a few weeks back after my last cook, Thelma, retired. Well, she quit, but I like to say retired. It makes me look less like an ass that way. Not that I care what people think, but no one wants to work for a bossy bastard.
I have gone through more cooks since my mother passed than in my entire life. I don’t know if it’s my surly attitude or my need for shit to be done on time that sends them packing, but they’ve always gone. This one has to beat it as well. I’ve had enough of her flighty behavior. I reach into the fridge to pour myself a cold drink, and the fucking pitcher of iced tea is empty.
What sick, twisted soul puts it back in the fridge ass-empty?
I snatch up a bottle of water to quench my thirst. It’s the end of the summer, so the heat and hard work make me endlessly thirsty. I take out the pointlessly chilled pitcher and set it on the counter. I’ll deal with that problem later.
Did she take a nap or something? She’s a few years older than me, but she doesn’t have a work ethic at all. If I knew how to cook, I’d have no use for her, but I burn everything but coffee, and even that’s total shit.
I don’t know this woman well, but she came from an agency that specializes in that kind of thing. She’s not a great cook and her cleaning has gone from good to nonexistent. I’m too damn tired most days to care, but she finally pushed me to the end of my patience. She’s going to need to find another job right away.
Dang, I don’t hear any noise. I walk through the entire first floor, and she’s nowhere to be found. Her bedroom on the first floor is empty and a mess. Screw it. I need a damn shower anyway. I stomp up the stairs toward my bedroom and hear the first sounds of movement—the telltale sound of the floorboard in my bedroom that I need to fix creaks. “What the hell?” I whisper to myself, grateful that I keep a gun on me. Is someone in the family safe? That’s the only damn reason I can imagine someone being in there. There’s another in my office, but it’s a hidden one.
“He’s coming. Shit. Hide,” I hear in a hushed tone. Hurried movements and the sound of clothes rustling tell me all I need to know. The safe has nothing to do with what’s going on in there. Rage boils in me because I can tell she’s not inside making my bed, which isn’t something I had her do anyway. Seething, I slam my door open to find my ranch hand buttoning his pants while Nina’s covering herself with my favorite blanket.