Prologue

The Los Angeles skyline stretched endlessly beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows of the thirty-second floor conference room, a concrete and glass maze that couldn't be more different from the rolling pastures of Montana. Beth Dutton stood with her back to the mahogany table where three corporate lawyers sat shuffling through documents, their nervous energy palpable even from across the room. She'd flown down here to gut a company that had made the mistake of crossing Dutton interests, and she was doing exactly that with surgical precision.

Her phone buzzed against the marble windowsill where she'd placed it. John's name lit up the screen.

"Daddy," she answered, not bothering to move away from the window. The lawyers could hear whatever they wanted, they'd be too busy bleeding money to care about ranch business.

"Beth." John's voice carried that familiar weight of authority even through the phone. "Tell me you found us a vet."

She turned slightly, catching her reflection in the glass: sharp suit, sharper expression. "Well, hello to you too. And no, I haven't found you a goddamn vet because believe it or not, finding someone willing to live in the middle of nowhere Montana and deal with our particular brand of hospitality isn't exactly easy."

"We need someone, Beth. Can't keep calling Doc Williams out every time we have an emergency. Man's pushing eighty and his hands shake worse than mine do."

Beth walked back toward the conference table, her heels clicking against the polished floor. The lawyers looked up nervously as she approached. "I'm aware of the urgency, Daddy. But I'm currently in the middle of dismantling a tech company piece by piece. Should I just start asking around LA? 'Excuse me, do you know any veterinarians who'd like to move to a ranch where people occasionally disappear?'"

A pause. Then John's dry chuckle. "Stranger things have happened. Kill two birds with one stone."

"You're serious."

"Dead serious. We need a vet, Beth. I don't care where you find one."

She looked out at the sprawling city again. Ridiculous as it sounded, maybe it wasn't impossible. "Fine. I'll see what I can do. But don't expect miracles."

"I never do with you. I expect the impossible."

The line went dead, and Beth slipped the phone back into her jacket pocket. She turned to face the lawyers, her smile predatory. "Now, gentlemen, where were we?"

—

Three states away, Rip Wheeler stood in the pre-dawn darkness outside the main house, his breath visible in the Montana cold. His truck was loaded and ready, but something kept him rooted to the spot, looking up at the ranch house where most of the lights were still off. Beth had been gone four days now, and the silence felt heavier than usual.

He pulled out his phone and hit her number.

"Missing me already, cowboy?" Her voice was warm despite the attitude, and he could hear the sound of traffic in the background.

"Always." He leaned against his truck, settling in for what might be their only real conversation of the day. "How's the bloodbath going?"

"Oh, it's beautiful. I should be done by tomorrow, but..." She paused, and he could picture her weighing her options. "Daddy wants me to find a vet while I'm out here. Apparently, we're desperate enough to start recruiting from Los Angeles."

"City vet's gonna last about five minutes on the ranch."

"That's what I told him. But you know how he gets when he wants something." Another pause. "Where are you off to? I can hear that truck rumbling."

"Alabama. Got some business to take care of for your father."

"The kind of business that requires you personally?"

"The kind that requires getting done."

Beth was quiet for a moment, understanding what he wasn't saying. "How long?"

"Few days, maybe less if things go smooth." He kicked at a stone with his boot. "Might take longer if they don't."

"Well, try not to get yourself killed. I'd hate to have to fly back early just to identify your body."

Despite everything, that pulled a smile from him. "I'll do my best. You try not to destroy the entire West Coast while I'm gone."

"No promises."

"Love you, Beth."

"I know you do." Her voice softened just enough. "See you back home in a few days."

The call ended, leaving Rip alone with the sound of the wind through the trees and the distant lowing of cattle. He stood there for another moment, then pulled up a different number in his contacts. A number he hadn't called in over three years.

It rang three times before a gravelly voice answered, a familiar Alabama drawl.

"Rip?"