Rope the Moon (Runaway Ranch, #2)

by Ava Hunter

This fucking girl who’s healed my wounds, my nightmares, this last year. And tonight, it all ends. Every second of today, I’ve been counting down to this moment. Fuck, but I’m dreading it.

I’m a soldier. A man of rules. Secrets. But when it comes to Dakota McGraw, I’ve broken every single one of them.

“Where’s your first stop?” I force the question out. Force myself to keep a cool head even if it’s the last thing I feel. “I’m in San Antonio for two semesters. And then…the future…it’s wide open.” She stretches her arms out over her head, baring her breasts, dark rosy nipples I can’t wait to get in my mouth again. “Goodbye, Resurrection. Hello, sweet, sweet freedom.” “Will you miss it?” “I’ll miss my sister. My dad. The mountains.” She hesitates, then her gaze drops to my face. “I’ll miss you,” she whispers. “I’ll miss you, too.” Emotion knots my throat, and I tug her into my arms.

“Who’s taking you to the airport tomorrow?” “Stede,” she says, her expression flushing with guilt. No one knows about us. Not her father. Not my brothers. Maybe Ford, my twin, has a clue, but wisely, he’s kept his fat fucking mouth shut. For the last six months, we’ve been sneaking around, and I hate myself for it. Maybe because the girl in question is the dark-haired daughter of Stede McGraw. A man I consider a father to me and my brothers. Maybe because I should know better, and yet, she breaks every ounce of my self-control. Don’t know how this woman slipped her way past my cold wall. Intelligent. Disarming. Beautiful. Somehow between the sex, the dreamless sleep, our conversations, she dragged it all out of me. We’ve only known each other a year, but it feels like I’ve known her for five lifetimes.

I push myself up on my elbows and shake my head. “You don’t have to do this.” “Shut up.” She slips in bed behind me, reclining me in her arms. “Enjoy it. It’s the last time I’ll do it.” The singular thought has the power to destroy. My heart hammers, and I look to the window like I can stop the sun from rising. At dawn, she’ll be gone, and there’s not a thing I can do about it. Slowly, methodically, like she’s done all summer, Dakota rubs the lotion on my bullet wound. I relax into her, wanting to tattoo her touch onto my body. Her graceful hands knead the scar tissue as gently as she kneads one of her breads. Even a year later, it hurts.

“You take care of yourself, you hear me?” Her soft, soothing hands stroke over my bicep. “Put this on every night.” Reaching up, I cup her face. “I don’t regret it.” She smiles. “I wouldn’t expect you to. Not you, Hotshot.” Hotshot.

“I fucking hate that you have to leave.”

“Davis…is there,” she bites her lower lip, swallows, “something you want to tell me?”

Her question knocks me flat. Fucking Christ. Stay. I love you. They’re the only words that have ever made any sense. It’s on the tip of my lips and yet… Her gorgeous face is bright, that daydreamer look in her eyes I’ve long come to recognize as one of the most stunning features of Dakota McGraw. I won’t be the bastard who ruins her dreams. She finally has her chance to get out of Resurrection. I just planted roots here, and she’s pulling hers up.

Koty McGraw needs freedom, and I won’t hold her back. This girl’s born to fly. She deserves the world. With heroic effort, I give a tight shake of my head, ignoring the selfish bastard inside of me that wants to keep her here. “No. Nothing.” Some of the light dies in her dark brown eyes. Her lips curve in a sad little smile.

I’m twisting in her arms and lifting the dog tags from around my chest. I remove and pocket one of the tags, then slip the chain with the remaining tag over her head, clearing hair from her nape as they settle down low between her breasts. “I want you to take these,” I order. Almost hesitantly, she fingers the tag. “Remember, Koty, you need anything, you call me.”

“Anything? Like alibis, kidnappings, simple beatings?” “And then some.”

“I mean it. Anytime you ask, I’ll be there. Five seconds, five minutes, five lifetimes. I will always come for you. No matter what.”

<3

“Promise me,” I demand. Her eyes shutter, then open. “I promise,” she whispers.

Rope the moon. My mother’s words blaze a trail to my heart. She never explained what it meant, but I’ve always interpreted it as go after what you want. Make it yours through grit, grace, or gumption.

Title!! That was fast!!

My jeep smells like smoke, and I feel a flicker of shame, hear Aiden’s panicked scream in my ears. Help me. Help me! But I didn’t. Maybe I shouldn’t have run, but I saw my chance, and I took it. But was it worth it? I gave up my beautiful bakery to be free.

If only it was that easy to leave the past in my rearview mirror. I catch my reflection, wincing at my busted lip, the faded bruise around my left eye. My long dark hair’s sweaty and mussed. I’m still wearing my apron from this morning.

Aiden warned me about what would happen if I ever left. I want you to remember this moment the next time you think about leaving me. I will fuck with you, Dakota. I will fuck with your family, and I will fuck with your life. And when I find you, I will carve out your fucking heart and feed it to the wolves.

My mind replays the fire like a fever dream. Our fight. The hard backhand to my face. Aiden screaming. How terribly fast that pan went up in flames. I stared at it, holding my cheek. Mesmerized, hypnotized. The flames licking up the back of the stove to snap at the ceiling. My fingers digging into my purse for my keys like my legs already knew where I was going. Aiden’s hand clawing at me, to drag me back, when in the end he stayed to fight the fire. For his money. For his investment. Because Aiden King doesn’t lose things. And he won’t lose me.

Before I left home, my father had pulled me aside under the awning of his old cabin and pressed a hundred-dollar bill in my hand. He kissed my cheek and told me, “Don’t be too proud to come back home, you hear?” Another voice rings in my ears. Rugged. Deep. A voice I’ve clung to the last six years, but foolishly ignored. “Pull it together,” I tell myself, running a shaky palm over my stomach. Reaching over, I grab the dog tag from the broken lock box on the passenger seat and slip the chain around my neck.

stare at it for one heartbeat. Then two. Then I swipe the notification away and dial a number I’ve known my entire life. “Dakota?” The minute I hear my father’s whiskey-weathered voice, relief floods my entire body. I choke on a sob, feeling a little less alone, wondering why I didn’t ask for help two years ago. “Daddy,” I choke out. “Wasn’t expecting to hear from you today, daydreamer.”

“Daddy,” I say again. My voice sounds so small, so frightened, that I wince. “Something bad happened.” Instantly, he’s on alert. That roughrider who rode bulls and busted broncs and would always do anything to help me. “You need help, Koty?” “Yes,” I whisper, feeling like I’ve died and gone to hell. I fight down the sob that tries to escape. “I’m in trouble. My car broke down. I’m—I’m—” I search the road for a sign. “I’m in Sioux Falls.” “You hurt, baby girl?” I look down at my arm, knowing nothing can prepare my father for this. “I am.” “You tell me where you are and I’ll make it right.”

“I’m at the Lights Out Motel. I need to come home.” I jump clear out of my skin when a stranger sweeps past me. I flinch, hating the way I’m as skittish as a whipped horse. “Fast, Daddy.” “I’m sending Davis.” “No,” I blurt. Even though the minute my father says Davis, my mind automatically says safe. “Dakota—” “Please.” I move closer to the bright light of the soda machine. “I don’t want Davis.” The worst lie I’ve ever told. “I can’t make the drive, baby girl. For a lot of reasons. I reckon you’ll soon know.”

Gripping the dog tag around my neck, I exhale. Aiden will come after me. I know it in my bones. He will never let me go. I need Davis. In the worst possible way. That man, that unforgettable man who still haunts my dreams. “Okay,” I say with a shudder, feeling like I’m staring down the barrel of a crossroads. “Send Davis.” Because I need a do-over. Glancing down, I cup the small bud of my belly. A really, really big fucking do-over.

My shoulders ease a fraction as I place a palm on her head and look the Belgian Malinois in her eyes. “You ready, girl?” Keena’s one of the most intelligent dogs I’ve ever known. A super guard dog, and command trained for voice or hand signals, her climbing and jumping ability never ceases to amaze. Curious, alert and endlessly loyal, Keena doesn’t have an aggressive bone in her body. She came to me as a rescue when I was busy training K9 dogs to rehome on Runaway Ranch, and I kept her. We were both in a rough patch and bonded. She trained me back into a human. She’s the best dog in the world. She’s got my back and I’ve got hers.

Keena, nose working overtime, climbs the porch steps and stops next to the fridge. Her loud whine sounds in the crisp early morning air. Fuck. Richter and I both make a mad dash to the fridge. It’s old, but the door frame isn’t frozen shut like I had expected. Gripping the handle, I wrench it open. And there she is. A tiny girl with blonde pigtails swaddled in a purple parka. Seeing us, she lets out a weak cry from her rosebud mouth and rubs her eyes. “How’d the hell she get in there?” Richter blasts, looking pale. I grab her up in my arms and hold her tight against my chest. Her small heart hammers next to mine. “We found you, Cassie,” I murmur, cupping her head as she wails. “You’re safe, sweetheart. Baby girl, breathe,” I whisper into her clammy golden curls.

“I’ll wrap up here,” Richter says, reaching for the radio on his hip. His voice drops an octave. “Make sure the parents didn’t have anything to do with it.” “That’s a good idea.” “Take your girl and give her a big treat.” “Plan on it. Thanks, Sheriff.”

I exit the truck. With a woof, Keena bounds for the Warrior Heart Home, the kennels and housing facility for my dogs. I chuckle and watch her run. Dog’s so goddamn free it kills me. I scan the ranch and its perimeter. Construction in varying stages is going on all over the grounds to get it ready for opening season. My job, as head of security, is to keep a pulse on the ranch. Keep it safe. Something I fucked up once. I won’t do it again.

“Hoo-wee. I can feel your temper boiling from over here.” My twin, Ford, comes loping around the side of the lodge. Shaggy dark blond hair flops in his face. Though all of us Montgomery’s are well over six feet, he’s got the lean physique of a baseball player while I’m Marine through and through. One thing we share: we both have damn great aim. I knew stellar sharpshooters overseas, but Ford’s fastballs are legendary.

Speaking of sunshine… Ruby bounces my way. I catch my sister-in-law up in a big hug, letting down my guard for a second. “How about you?” I hold her at arm’s length, sweeping my eyes over her pretty face. “You look good, Ruby.” She beams. “I feel great.” I allow myself a rare grin. I can’t help but love her. This girl died for our ranch. Charlie will never get over it. And I will never forget it.

A memory of Wyatt calling me at the Marine bunkhouse pops into my mind. “Charlie ain’t gonna make it, D,” he had said tearfully. “He’s putting whiskey on his goddamn corn flakes.” Real fear had hit me then. My brother was going to fall drunk off a roof before he got over Maggie. Because I wasn’t fucking there. I was overseas, recuperating after a special-ops mission with my team had gone to shit. Emergency leave was non-negotiable. I was stuck. So, I took a bullet on purpose. Charlie was my mission. I wasn’t putting my brother in the fucking ground. Not another one. Not my blood.

I thought we settled the mess with Valiante. But early last fall, he came back to the ranch. I caught him at Charlie’s cabin, looking for Ruby. Valiante wasn’t getting another chance to hurt someone I loved. I put a bullet in his brain. Buried him on the far side of the property near Crybaby Falls.

lol welp he did kill him, now he can rot!!

“Who says we can’t charge extra to take ’em out to see the Grunkle?” Wyatt’s languid drawl pulls me from my daze. It takes me a second to realize he’s talking about the endangered bird Stede McGraw invented to give the ranch protected status. I rub my temple. “Can’t charge guests for a bird that doesn’t exist.” Wyatt rolls his eyes. “I don’t know how you can take the most exciting subject and make it boring.” “Idiot,” Ford says affectionately, cuffing Wyatt on the head. I smirk, watching a scowl darken Wyatt’s face. A big brother’s job is to give our little brothers shit at every opportunity.

That’s when I hear it. The slam of the front double doors. Instantly, the conversation hushes. Wyatt uses the distraction to elbow Ford in the stomach and untangle himself. King of cowboys, Stede McGraw stands in the doorway. Stetson in his hands. Snow on his boots. His hair is scraped back into thin wisps of silver.

“Hey, old man.” I reach for the coffeepot and pour him a full cup. “Good to see you.” “What’s going on?” Ford asks. “I’d like to tell you I’m here to welcome these two back to town.” Stede nods at Ruby and Charlie, takes a step closer to the bar. “But hell, I’m afraid my intentions aren’t that noble.”

“You okay, Stede?” Charlie asks, brow furrowed. “You remember my oldest daughter, Dakota, don’t you?” Fuck. My body tenses like it’s in battle. Still, I do my best to keep my face expressionless while my heart slams against my chest like a kick drum. Remember. More like engraved onto my goddamn soul. Although, I’d never tell Stede that. Dakota and I are water under the bridge. She came into my life as quick as she left. One year. But it felt like she blew up my entire world.

“What can we do for you, Stede?” “I’m afraid I need your help,” he says grimly. “Koty’s in trouble.” “Trouble?” Fuck. If Dakota’s in trouble, it means I’ll kill someone. Again. “Got a call from her early this morning,” Stede goes on. “She wouldn’t tell me what happened, but she’s hurt. Her car broke down. Sounds like she’s on the run. From what, she wouldn’t say.” “On the run? What the fuck,” Ford says, looking bewildered. “Tell us what we can do,” Charlie growls, his arm wrapped around Ruby. Stede lets out a long, tired sigh. “I’m not too proud to ask…would you go get my daughter, Davis?”

But before I can answer, Stede, shame in his voice, says, “With the cancer, I’m not strong enough to make the drive.” Ruby rests a hand on his arm. “And Fallon…” Wyatt straightens up, blue eyes bright and intense. “Fallon needs help?” he asks over a mouthful of donut. Powdered sugar coats the front of his shirt. “If Dakota’s in trouble”—Stede runs a hand through his wispy hair—“I don’t want Fallon tangling with whatever she’s got following her.” “I’ll go,” I announce, feeling all three of my brother’s gazes on me.

Wyatt is the epitome of an excited puppy when it comes to Fallon lol

“Where is she?” “A little town outside of Sioux Falls. ‘Bout eleven hours away.” I’ll make it in eight. Ford’s eyes are cold. “You need backup, D?” “No,” I grit out. Only backup I’m taking is my twelve gauge. I look at Stede. “I promised you I’d protect your daughters and I’ll do that. I’ll bring Dakota home safe.”

“What’ll it be, cupcake or cookie?” she asked as she arranged food on the counter. I grunted. “Don’t eat sweets.” She mock-gasped. “No sweets?” Her black eyes twinkled. “Then I’m afraid you and I can never be.” Curious, I crossed the room and leaned over her shoulder. Close enough that I could smell her hair. See the plump pout of her lips. “What’s in the basket?” She smiled. “Everything you never knew you wanted.” And she was right. Slowly that wall I built crumbled. I couldn’t stay away from the girl with the big brown eyes.

She gave me more than I deserved. With her, I relearned how to be human. She let me talk, never once taking my pissy attitude, always making me laugh. She rehabbed my arm with her massages. I should have gotten a goddamn therapist. Instead, I had Dakota. She made Resurrection my home. Any spare time we had; we’d meet. Sneaking around. Hiding it from everyone, including my brothers. Fucking in the cabin, her bedroom, The Corner Store. Ruby-red lipstick streaks left on every inch of my body. I finally found a weakness, and it was her. And then she left.

We kept in touch via text the first four years, but out of nowhere, the texts stopped. Those bright bursts of hellos that gave me joy fizzled out like I had imagined them. And when I tried to call her—I found she had changed her number. Iced me out completely. I understood. She had her bakery. She met someone. But goddamn it stung so fucking hard I still have whiplash from it. Every time I close my eyes, I’m right back in the past. I see Dakota and that last goodbye where I fucked up everything royally. I didn’t do what I should have done. Ask her to stay. Tell her I loved her.

Without hesitation, she walks right into my arms. “You came,” she says, sighing into my chest. “You called.” I exhale, tension leaving my body as I wrap my arms around her.

In the fluorescent light of the motel, I see a bruised cheekbone. Black eye. A busted lip. Rage courses through me, swift, blinding. “Who did this, Dakota?” I demand, fighting to keep my voice controlled even as my breath comes out in ragged pants. “Who. The fuck. Did this?” Her eyes flutter closed. “Davis, don’t—” “Cupcake, I’m gonna need you to shut that pretty mouth and let me hold you.”

“Cupcake,” she breathes, clinging to me like I’m her lifeline, when all this time she’s been mine. Her voice turns watery. “I haven’t heard that in so long.” As I hold her, trembling in my arms, I calculate it. Drive Dakota back to Resurrection. Get in my truck and find the motherfucker that did this. Kick in his door. Rip out his fucking throat. That’s when the same hard something hits me in the ribs again. I glance down to see a light-yellow cast poking out of the sleeve of her black sweatshirt. “Your arm.” Her eyes drop. “It’s a clean break.”

I kneel in front of her and unzip the first aid kit. “Where else are you hurt?” She shakes her head. “Just the arm.” “Just the arm? That’s fucking enough, don’t you think?” My voice comes out rough. I can’t keep it together; I ball my fists to regroup. “Let me clean that cut on your lip.” “You don’t have to do that. I’m okay.” “Dakota,” I warn. My eyes lock on her face. It looks like someone grabbed her by the jaw and squeezed. Hard. “Don’t argue with me.” “Still bossy, I see.” Her tone is light yet strained.

She leans in, breaking the tense silence. “I like your scruff, Hotshot.” “Is that what we’re talking about, my scruff? How about your face?” She flinches. “What about it, Davis?” “Tell me what happened, Koty.” “It doesn’t matter,” she whispers, her gaze skating away from me. “You’re here now. I got out. I’m safe.” “It fucking matters,” I growl. “A whole hell of a lot.” She waves her hand up her body, stopping at her face. “What do you think?” Bitterness stains her husky voice. “I lived right. I loved wrong. End of fucking story.”

“And now…I’m running.” She gives me a crooked, tired smile. “On the lam, something sad and pathetic like that.” “Not sad and pathetic.” “It is to me. I should have known better.” “Who?” I grind out. Tell me. Just fucking tell me so I can buy a shovel and gallon of bleach. “Who did this?” She sits silent. Stubborn. “Your…husband?” Fuck. I don’t recognize the sound of my own voice. She flinches when I say the words. “No. Not my husband.”

It’s difficult to imagine Dakota and another man. We moved on. Made no promises and yet… I don’t know how I could lose a good woman I never laid claim to. Just one mistake out of many.

“I can’t pay for that wall if you punch it, Hotshot.” I stop mid-stride, realizing I’ve balled my hand up into a fist. A chuckle shakes out of me. I hate how well she knows me. I turn and pin her with a look. “What happened tonight?”