“Who knows you’re going to adoption pickup today?” Colt’s tone was firm, businesslike, and far too calm for Mason just then.
“I don’t fuckingknow,” he shouted, unable to string two coherent thoughts together. He waved his arms in a wide circle. He was so done with this. “Everyone.”
“We’re regulars at every adoption event and kill pen auction within an eight-hour radius,” Trina said while Brett and Levi went to inspect the trucks—probably for any tampering, because why not cut the brakes on all the vehicles while the asshole was at it?
Trina continued. “Anyone who knows Mason and what he does here knows if there’s an event, he’ll be at it. Plus, pickups at Cañon City are big days, when all the rescues, adopters, and trainers come to get their horses.”
Mason couldn’t stand still. Couldn’t hold the anger that pushed at the edges of his mind and shoved through his veins. He just wanted to save horses. Federally protected ones, at that. Animals that should never have been rounded up and housed in too-small holding pens for the rest of their lives in the first place—if they survived the roundup at all—or that were adopted but shipped off to kill pens as soon as their asshole adopters received the horses’ titles.
“I am so goddamn sick of this bullshit.” He kicked at the dirt, hands clenched so tightly his short nails dug into his palms. “This has got to end. I’m just trying to save some fucking horses. What thefuckis sofuckingwrong with that?”
“Mason, hey.” Colt grabbed Mason by the shoulders.
His grip was firm but gentle, his gaze intent, and the fire that spread over Mason’s skin from those two touchpoints was unexpected yet undeniable.
“What?” Mason panted, chest heaving. He didn’t want to deal with Colt and his body’s stupid reactions to the man either.
“One, calm down.”
“Seriously?”
Colt glared. “Yes, seriously. Throwing a fit won’t help anything.”
“Throwing a fit? I’m pissed right the fuck off.”
“I get it,” Colt said with far too much equanimity.
Mason snorted and looked away—away from Colt and his too-blue eyes and kissable mouth; away from the trailers with their dead wheels—and focused on the bison grazing near the edge of the tableland as the sun rose behind them and painted their hides a warm ochre.
“One,” Colt repeated, and the silence that followed was a clear command.
Mason sighed and met Colt’s eyes. He raised his eyebrows and tipped his chin up to mutely say, “Carry on.” It wasn’t like he could stop the man anyway. Colt had always been like a dog on a bone when he was on a mission. That kind of laser focus had always impressed Mason, but right now it only pissed him off.
“Calm down so you can think clearly,” Colt continued when he had Mason’s full attention. “Two, we can take my trailer to get the horses—”
“No.” Mason shook his head and stepped out of Colt’s grip. He couldn’t think with Colt touching him, his hands burning holes through Mason’s shirt. “Your tires are slashed too.”
Colt frowned and looked toward the unhitched trailers across the yard. “Shit.”
Understatement of the year.
“How many spares do you have?” Levi asked, his voice sounding unusually serious. Mason startled. He hadn’t realized Levi and Brett had returned from their truck inspections and were standing right behind him. “Between your spares and our spares, we should be able to get at least one rig on the road.”
“Good idea.” Brett checked his watch. “Trina and I can run into town as soon as the shop opens to buy new tires for the other trailer and then meet you down there.”
“Yes, good idea,” Colt agreed. “Levi, you go with Trina and Brett. The three of you can get things changed up faster than just two. Wes will stay here and keep an eye on things. See if he can gather any information while we’re gone. I’ll call Nick and let him know what happened.”
“Okay.” Levi clapped his hands. “Let’s get to it, people. Day’s a-wastin’.”
Between the five of them, they had the tires changed on the trailer hooked up to Mason’s truck and were ready to go in no time. The physical work helped to settle Mason’s ire to a functional level. He took his fury out with the torque wrench, but his mood remained sour when he and Colt were finally on the road.
He wasn’t looking forward to spending the next four hours alone in the truck with Colt, but at least driving, he had something to focus on. Of course, it would be the perfect opportunity to ask Colt why he’d never given Mason the chance to explain himself all those years ago. If he wasn’t already so wrung out . . . and it wasn’t even six in the morning yet.
Current affairs were far more important than the twenty-year-old mistakes of teenagers.
He couldn’t deny it seemed possible that whoever it was behind all of this was already on the property though. How did someone get on the property—off a long backcountry dirt road and down a near mile-long drive to the main houses and barns—without notice?
Mason flicked his right turn signal on and merged onto Interstate 25 South. Once they were up to freeway speed, he glanced over at Colt. Maybe Colt was right. Maybe he should hear him out, since this was his line of business after all, and let Colt do the thinking. Mason didn’t trust that he would ever hear from Colt again once his job here was over, but he knew he could trust his life to Colt. Without a doubt.
