“Time to cowgirl up, Archers,” I say with a grin, my heart thudding with adrenaline.
Because when everything else feels like it’s spinning—too fast, too big, too scary…
Too good.
This?
This feels right.
This is something I can do.
Bea turns to me with a wide, hopefully smile. “Giddy fuckin’ up, Cooper Cunts.”
Chapter Thirty Nine
A Public Claiming
“Thanks again for coming out, guys,” I rasp, voice wrecked from smoke and shouting.
My body’s exhausted, hands raw, thighs burning, throat coated in ash, but I can still feel the adrenaline buzzing in my blood. The air around us is thick and acrid, wet from the hoses and still too hot in places—but the worst of it’s over.
The equipment barn is gone.
Everything inside—tools, fuel, irrigation systems, even the newer harvester we managed to finance two seasons ago, is now a steaming pile of blackened metal and ash.
And the small shed my mom uses for event prep—the one she sets up with decor and flower buckets every time the Honey Bea Bash rolls around? Gone. Collapsed in on itself, smoldering quietly near the tree line.
But no animals were hurt. The crops are untouched. No one was injured fighting the fire, thank fuck.
The guys from Summit County Rural Fire showed up fast, efficient, and ready to get to work. We hit the worst of it before it reached the horse barn, and with their help, we pushed the line back just in time.
“No problem,” Memphis Calloway says, shaking my hand with a strong grip. “You did damn good work before we even got here. Miss havin’ you out on calls.”
After I came home from the military, I needed an outlet. Needed to feel needed. That’s how I fell in with Iron Shield. The guys felt the same, so they followed me, but I needed more.
Working for JP was fine—but it was just that: work.
Some jobs I took were high adrenaline, and I actually got to help people, protect them from bad shit.
But a lot of times, it was just rich businessmen wanting to feel powerful with personal security for events or driving them around.
Hated that shit. One of the reasons I took less and less jobs away.
Also one of the reasons I ended up volunteering for Summit County Emergency Services. Spent many days with these guys, fighting wildfires, out on search and rescues, or responding to emergencies in rural areas where help is needed.
I have the training, the time, and fuck, got a hell of a lot more fulfillment from those un-paid jobs than I even have with Iron Sheild.
Good thing I quit.
“Know it’s been a while,” I say, glancing toward the dark shape of the big house in the distance. “But since I’m currently out of a job, you’ll probably be seeing more of me.”
“No shit,” Dallas, the Wildwood fire chief and youngest of the three Calloway brothers here tonight, claps me hard on the back. “Why don’t you join the department? You’re good with a hose.”
Memphis and Nash bark out identical laughs that echo through the steam and early dawn air.
I snort. “Nah, man. I’m living here full-time now.” My gaze drifts to the house again, jaw tightening, anxiety clawing at my veins. Wanna get back to them. “Got a little girl to watch out for now. Can’t be signing up for anything that dangerous on the regular.”
Nash, who teaches engineering over at the college and volunteers whenever he can, frowns. “When the fuck did you find the time to make a kid, Archer?”
