No White Knight

by Nicole Snow

  She pulls back, almost like she’s surprised I didn’t try something filthy, pulling her hand against her chest.

  Libby gives me another strange look, then turns away and reaches for Frost’s reins, gently pulling him away from slurping at the pump before bending to shut it off.

  “Come on,” she says quietly. “Let’s take them back before they get all sun-sick from drinking so much in this heat.”

  I oblige by stealing Plath’s reins and mounting up.

  But I can’t help but notice as she climbs Frost’s back, she looks back.

  Libby stares down that old deserted road with a pensive expression on her face.

  Finally, she sends Frost trotting past, and I nudge Plath into gear to catch up.

  My lips arc down into a slow frown.

  There’s something else down that old road, I think.

  Something she doesn’t want me to see.

  And I can’t help but wonder what’ll happen to Libby’s secrets when the bank takes this land away from her and hands it over to the county tax man.

  I move Plath up closer to her, then settle back down into an easy pace once we’re moving neck and neck.

  I clear my throat. “I have this thing about not mixing business with pleasure, but since we’re not doing business anymore—”

  “No,” she says flatly, without even looking at me. Her cheeks blossom hellfire-red.

  Big mistake.

  That just makes me grin.

  She might drive my brain crazy, but my dick is a different kind of nuts, knowing my charms don’t work on her.

  It’s nice for a change.

  Fun that she sees me as something more than the devil to tame; the bad boy every woman wants to try riding and see if they can break him enough to keep him for themselves.

  I never wanted to be broken.

  Though maybe I wouldn’t mind being tamed a bit by her capable hands.

  Later, it’s hard to keep Libby off my mind, especially when I’ve got a steaming bowl of hell no laid out in front of me.

  I don’t want to be meeting with Declan and Sierra.

  Particularly Declan.

  The sleazeball excels at handing out the creeps like Halloween candy.

  But since Sierra’s the one who contacted me as a potential buyer for the land, and since I’m not following through, I need to close this out and send them packing.

  I can’t do anything to stop Sierra from raising hell over the ranch, but I can at least honor my agreements. Tell her I’m not working with her anymore.

  She sits across from my desk in my mobile trailer office with her legs crossed, wearing a leopard print mini dress that went out of style ages ago.

  Declan’s more reserved in a suit that could’ve come right out of my own closet.

  He’s slick, sharp-eyed, and sharkish.

  There’s something about him I recognize, from one big city playboy to another.

  For me, it was always about charming people into seeing things my way. If I had a few bedmates here and there as a result of it...no harm, no foul.

  Declan strikes me as the type who’ll double deal someone openly with his cold, flinty way of looking you in the eye. His smile says he’ll shiv you in the back the second you turn away.

  I know his type too well.

  He’s looking at me that way right now as I fold my hands on my desk and say, “I’m sorry, but our business relationship can’t move forward.”

  “Um, what?” Sierra makes a flustered noise. “How can it be over if it’s barely begun?”

  “I can’t help you,” I say firmly. “Libby won’t sell to me. Or to you, if she can help it. There’s nothing I can do but complicate matters more, and it’d be unethical for me to mislead you, making you think I can force a sale.”

  “Unethical?” Sierra flares, her blue eyes snapping. They’re not the same shade as Libby’s, though. Darker. Less fire, more twilight, and they just don’t have the searing burn that gets to me. “What’s unethical is you abandoning us, Silverton. You stand to profit quite handsomely, but you—”

  “Sierra,” Declan snaps. He’s got this slow, forceful way of speaking that’s like standing in front of a grinding steamroller—he might mow you over, but he’ll take his sweet time. “If the man doesn’t want to play ball, he doesn’t want to. We’ll just have to take the more punitive route.”

  My eyes narrow.

  Adrenaline shoots through my blood.

  Punitive? I don’t like the sound of that one fucking bit.

  “What do you mean?” I ask, my hands clenching with instinctive need to do something.

  To protect Libby, even if she’s not here.

  Declan turns his slow, cold smile on me. I feel defiled.

  He knows I’m on edge, and he’s enjoying it.

  “Whether Liberty Potter likes it or not,” Declan says, “half that land rightfully belongs to Sierra. It’s her inheritance by law, same for a fifty percent stake in the house. If we take Liberty to court, Sierra wins—and Liberty will just be shit out of luck.”

  My teeth pinch together.

  Sad to say, the prick isn’t done.

  “The court will force a division of assets,” he drawls in this accent I can’t quite place. “Sierra gets her half of the land plus more for damages for her sister dragging this thing out. They’ll make Liberty sell off her remaining land simply to cover her legal fees without ending up in the poorhouse. It’s a regrettable situation, but since she won’t cooperate and you won’t work with us...regrettable, it is.”

  I go cold inside.

  Is he really trying to threaten Libby to get me to do his dirty work?

  “Look, I can’t force Libby to do anything,” I grind out slowly, making my words very clear, very precise. “And frankly, it won’t look good for you or the bank you work for if you’re caught trying to muscle her around.” I narrow my eyes. “Isn’t this entire deal a conflict of interest for you, anyway? All you have to do is stand back and let the bank foreclose when the time’s up.”

  That actually makes Declan blink. “Time limit?”

  I cock my head, looking at him.

  Hold the hell up.

  I know damn well I heard Reid Cherish tell Libby about having less than forty-five days to get her shit sorted when I caught them in the parking lot at The Nest.

  Yet this guy’s acting like it’s the first he’s heard of it.

  Something isn’t right here.

  I hold Declan’s eyes. He’s not talking over me or thinking he can intimidate me in my own damn office.

  “Sounds like your coworkers haven’t been keeping you in the loop,” I say smoothly. “Maybe you should get out and rectify that. Have a little talk with Mr. Cherish. See if he approves of you forcing a court division of assets and sale when your employer’s trying to work with Libby as an intermediary for the taxing authority.” I raise both my brows. “Or maybe I should talk with him myself? See what he has to say?”

  Declan goes oddly still.

  If looks could kill, I’d be dead in my chair right now.

  It’s a slow, thoughtful glance, assessing, measuring me up and down like he just realized I’m a possible contender and not an annoying bystander.

  With a sniff, he stands, hefting his muscular bulk and reaching down for Sierra’s arm.

  Not to offer his hand. Not to take her hand. Not to ease her up.

  He just grabs Sierra’s arm and pulls like a dog with a rope.

  Though it doesn’t quite look like it’s hurting her, I don’t like the way he uses her arm as a leash to drag her up.

  “Come, Sierra,” he says. “Negotiations have broken down.”

  “Negotiations are done,” I growl back.

  Sierra flashes me a look that’s half annoyance as she stands.

  But the rest?

  The other half of that look feels like desperation, wide-eyed and scared.

  This dark, worried sensation churns in my gut as I watch them leave.


  The more I see of this shit, the less I like it.

  Not at all.

  It’s past time to butt out of this.

  Too bad I can’t when I know Libby could be facing more trouble—and at the very least I can make sure she goes into it with fair warning.

  It’s a funny thing, sprouting a conscience.

  I started realizing it around the time I figured out I had to do the right thing with Blake and his half of the inheritance from our ma. I had to work that man to the bone even after we fixed our shit to get him to take a little money for Andrea’s college fund.

  Now that I’m looking at this woman who believes I’ve got enough decency to honor a promise made to her in the heat of the moment, well, hell.

  It’s taken full root and sprouting leaves.

  Something about having a pretty lady believe in you is one hell of a drug.

  That’s how I end up prying Libby’s cell phone number out of a very skeptical Felicity, even if it takes buying four black coffees in a row and getting myself so wired on caffeine I think I could race one of Ms. Wilma Ford’s hummingbirds.

  I think Felicity’s just amused, and not just over my clumsy ass playing superspy.

  I wonder if everyone can tell how much that little cowgirl gets under my skin.

  Back outside, I stab her number into my phone and hit the call button.

  “Hello?” When she picks up, she sounds out of breath—and I can just picture her out there, hauling bales of hay or putting the horses through their paces, sweat glistening on her skin.

  “Don’t hang up,” I say quickly. “It’s me.”

  Her voice instantly goes hot with irritation when she realizes who she’s talking to.

  “Holt? Holt Silverton? How’d you get my number?”

  “Blame your friend at the coffee shop. For some reason, she felt like I needed to have it.” Out in the parking lot of The Nest, I lean against the hood of my Benz, crossing my ankles and letting my gaze drift over the town. “I’m not calling to be a pain in the ass, promise. Just letting you know how things went with Sierra.”

  There’s a heavy whump on the other side, then a wary, “And...?”

  “Not well,” I admit. “That Declan asshole’s advising her to force it in court. And we know that won’t be fun.”

  “No, it really won’t be. But if he’s spoiling for a fight...” She talks tough but sighs heavily, and it rubs me raw how dispirited she sounds. “Why are you even telling me this? Still trying to help me after I flipped you the bird?”

  “Because it’s the right thing to do.”

  She doesn’t say anything.

  It dawns on me then. She’s just as much at a loss as I am.

  Doesn’t know what to do with me when I’m not trying to charm her.

  Just like I’m not quite sure what to do with her when she’s not trying to take my head off.

  Maybe it’s easier when we’re only voices on the phone and not sworn enemies in the flesh crossing swords of anger and lust.

  “Hey,” I tell her. “Listen up. You need more help sorting this out, call me, okay? I’m not sure what I can do, but I’ll try.”

  There’s a longer pause on her end.

  “Holt?” she murmurs sweetly.

  “Yeah?”

  “You’re weird. I just...I don’t get it. What about your contract? If Sierra’s pissed at you now, there’s no way she’ll ever sell to you whether she gets this place or not.”

  “I’ll figure something out.” I shrug. “There’s got to be an alternate route that doesn’t wind up ruining everyone. Might cost a little more money and take more legal hopscotch, but it’ll work out in the end. I know it will. Hang in there, honey.”

  For a second, she makes a strained sound, probably at the pet name.

  Then she just gives back, “Same to you.”

  All words aside, I’m at a loss how this ever ends well.

  That thought presses down like a boulder as I end the call.

  Yeah, I’m already boned.

  The city council won’t give me the job if I can’t hand them the tidiest, least expensive proposal possible. And without that gig, all these smaller gigs won’t be nearly enough to get my business settled on solid footing. We’re looking at another six to eight months tops to finish fixing the fire damage around town and throw up a few new buildings.

  Then Silverton Construction will be staring down a black hole of nothing.

  This is the second time I’ve possibly fucked over my business for a woman.

  But I promised Libby help, and I’d rather wind up penniless than break more promises.

  What the hell ever.

  If this goes south, I’ll just pick myself up a second time, too.

  One way or another, I’ll get it right.

  I’ll also make sure I do my damnedest to push Libby Potter’s sweet ass in the right direction, too.

  5

  Lead a Horse to Water (Libby)

  I can’t believe I’m going through with this, but here we are.

  I’m dressed up nice—even if nice, for me, is a pair of jeans with no holes in them and a button-up blouse—and waiting for my sister and that weirdo Declan to show up at the house for lunch.

  There’s a fine line between loyalty and stupidity.

  Right now, I feel like I’m tap dancing on it.

  But this is honestly my only chance.

  I need to talk some sense into Sierra. Remind her we’re sisters, we should be on the same team, and we need to leave other people out of this.

  People like Holt, people like Declan, people like Reid Cherish.

  This needs to be between me and Sierra alone.

  If by some miracle we remember we’re family, if we act like it, we can pull together and save the ranch.

  Because even after the way she left, even after the things she did...

  If she really wanted to come home, I’d let her.

  If she wanted to be sisters again, instead of enemy combatants, I’d be okay with that, too.

  I’ve had nobody else since Dad died.

  No one but Felicity as my friend, plus a few friendly acquaintances in town.

  Truth be told, I miss being a family.

  That thought hits me with a sudden sharp pang I’m not expecting, making my throat close up and my eyes get all twitchy and burny.

  Like hell I’ve got time for that. Not when I hear Declan’s car pulling up in the driveway—a Tesla far nicer than my sister’s banged-up Taurus.

  For a split second, I can’t help but remember Holt talking about his brother and niece when we went out riding.

  The way he seemed to ache for something he didn’t quite have, too.

  I shouldn’t be thinking about him now.

  Or at all.

  Just because he did me a favor doesn’t mean I can trust that slick talkin’ snake-man in the slightest.

  Not even if part of me actually wants to.

  I glance up, hearing footsteps on the porch.

  I’ve got company and a lot of slick talking of my own to do.

  Hell, maybe I should’ve brought Holt in anyway.

  Fair fight.

  Two against two.

  His tongue’s a lot smoother than mine...and no, thank you very much, there’s no hidden meaning there.

  When I hear the knock at the door, I’m ready.

  Scrubbing my hands on my thighs, I step forward quickly and yank the door open.

  Declan and Sierra stand arm in arm on the doorstep. He’s in another one of his nice suits. Sierra wears another thrift shop designer knockoff that would be nice if she’d just get things that fit her and take care of them.

  That’s always been her problem.

  She can’t stick to things or mind them much.

  She’s killed goldfish that way, plus an old CD player or two.

  Is it any wonder Dad left it to me to run everything when Sierra can’t even mend a dress?

  My smile turns to gritted teeth when I see
the moony way she’s looking at Declan.

  Ugh. She’s downright smitten.

  Sometimes you just can’t reason with a girl when she’s lovestruck, and Sierra’s always gonna put her flame of the moment over any good sense, good reason, or good family loyalty.

  “You’re just in time. Lunch is almost out of the oven.” I swallow a sigh and step back, opening the door wider.

  That makes Sierra notice I’m there.

  She instantly glares at me.

  Of course.

  “What’s the point of this, sis?” she asks sulkily. “We already know you’re not selling. You’re just making things more difficult.”

  Deeeep breaths, I tell myself.

  Don’t snap at her yet...

  ...or murder her.

  It takes me a few seconds, and I have to turn away, crossing the big open ranch house to the kitchen and pulling the oven open.

  The savory scent of shepherd’s pie drifts out. I keep my hands busy—and not on anyone’s throat—by tugging on a pair of oven mitts and bending in to retrieve the pan.

  “The point,” I say—and I can only keep my voice even by not looking at them, “is to try to talk this through. You’re right, Sierra. I’m not selling. But we’re sisters, and I don’t want to wind up in court and bleed us both dry.” I turn to set the pan on the counter, eyeing Declan. “I only invited him as a courtesy ’cause he’s your man. I don’t want him here as a representative of the bank.”

  Declan sniffs, though he offers me a pretty shit-eating smile. “You do understand I can’t not take any information I learn here into consideration when handling your case?”

  “You can do what you will with whatever, but you’re not getting me to sell, buster,” I say firmly.

  I’m trying to hold my ground without being nasty, without more screaming and hollering and raised fists.

  But I have an ugly feeling that’s not gonna last.

  “So what’s your big idea?” There’s a spark of hope when Sierra folds her arms over her chest, eyeing me skeptically.

  “I’m not sure yet.” I shake my head. “I was hoping you’d have some thoughts. My biggest hope, right now, is that if I negotiate some kind of payment plan with the bank, I can buy a little time and do something to pull in enough business to make this work.”