Chasing Tiger Tail [Tigers of Twisted, Texas 3] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) Page 2

  Was she supposed to stay and keep the ranch going? Should she forget about leaving Twisted?

  Cracked Creek Ranch was her home and it always would be. After she earned her law degree, she’d still want to come back and live on the ranch. Yet instead of pushing cattle all day, she’d set up a private practice in Twisted. Her practice would handle legal business for shifters of all kinds.

  No. She’d push on. The letter was only one rejection out of four applications.

  But what about the connection? What about my mates?

  The bond that would bring her fated mates to her hadn’t come. Maybe it never would. Maybe she’d be one of those who would never find her mates. Would living a solitary life be so bad? She’d have her law practice and her work. Should she hope for more? For love?

  She shoved the thoughts aside. First law school then her practice. Anything else would have to wait.

  * * * *

  “Did you two get settled in all right?”

  Cameron “Cam” Nordstrom paused, allowing Lena Fortran to catch up with him and his brother, Phil. She was a smaller woman but she’d managed to keep pace with them as they hurried along the sidewalk leading into Twisted.

  “We sure did. Thanks to you.”

  Lena was a striking African-American woman who owned the Rocking Porch Bed and Breakfast where they’d taken a room. She’d quickly recognized them as tiger-shifters and as brothers. With their black hair and eyes, strong jawlines, and similar builds, it wasn’t hard to see that they were related.

  “The room’s great, Lena,” added Phil. “We’re eager to meet Bill Broderick. You wouldn’t know where to find him, would you?”

  Lena had not only provided a room for them, but had already put them onto a job prospect. Bill was an older man who needed some help on his ranch. Having grown up on a ranch in Madison, Tennessee, they were old hands at working cattle. They’d gotten lucky when they’d decided to stay at her place.

  “At this time of the day, he’s more than likely at Roar.” She pointed ahead of them, toward a place that looked more like a hole-in-the-wall dive than a local bar. “You can’t miss him. He has bright red hair and a red beard, too.”

  “Yeah. A guy like that would stick out.”

  Lena’s hand slipped along Cam’s arm, causing him to pause. “Then I’ll leave you to it. Don’t feel like you need to move out anytime soon. The room’s yours for as long as you want it.”

  “Hopefully, we can land these jobs and get out of your hair.” Cam smiled, trying to hide his impatience.

  “Good-looking men are never a bother. Go on. I won’t hold you up any longer.” She lifted a hand and veered off, already calling out to another couple of men across the street. She had a graceful way about her, showing off the feline inside her.

  They hurried down the street. By the time they swung the bar’s door open, Cam was ready for a cold beer. He stepped into Roar and immediately felt at ease. His shifter eyes adjusted quickly to the dim lighting as Phil and he swept their gazes around the room. The bar reminded Cam of their favorite watering hole back home. A large, wooden counter ran along one side of an entire wall. Stools dotted the front with most of them filled. Other patrons sat at tables scattered around the rest of the interior.

  “There he is.” Phil nodded toward a man at the end of the counter.

  “Lena was right. No way could we miss him. Come on. Let’s get this set up.” Cam led the way, coming up behind the man. He leaned to the left while Phil took to the man’s right. He stuck out his hand. “Mr. Broderick?”

  “Who’s asking?” The man’s age hadn’t reached his bright red beard or hair with any gray, but wrinkles framed his eyes and deep lines creased his weathered face. He let his gaze make a slow glide over Cam before he took his hand.

  Typical shifter response. Cautiously curious. Careful of strangers.

  “My name’s Cam Nordstrom and this is my brother Phil. Lena Fortran told us you could use some help on your ranch. We’d like to hire on.”

  “Is that right?”

  “Yes, sir.” Phil offered his hand. “Our family owned a ranch in Tennessee.”

  Broderick snorted. “Tennessee ain’t Texas.”

  Ranching was ranching as far as Cam was concerned, but he wasn’t about to rile the old guy. “We’re good hands with cattle, horses, and regular ranch chores. We’re no strangers to long days and hard work.”

  “These ain’t no long-term jobs.” Bill slapped a hand on his leg. “Once my leg gets better, you’ll be out of a job.”

  Cam exchanged a knowing glance at Phil. The man was ninety if he was a day, but Cam doubted he’d ever admit to slowing down. More than likely getting better wasn’t going to happen. Although weretigers healed quickly, even their bodies finally gave into old age.

  “I understand. We’re not looking for long term. As soon as we figure out if Twisted is the place for us, we’ll start looking for our own place.”

  According to Lena, Bill Broderick was thinking about selling. But like many old codgers, he was bound and determined to stick it out as long as he could. Still, the Broderick Ranch might be the right place for them. Working as hands would help them figure that out.

  Cam leaned against the counter as Bill started hammering them with questions. After about five minutes, Cam was certain they had the jobs. Answering more questions was just Bill Broderick enjoying himself.

  “So we’re good, Mr. Broderick?” Phil cut off the next question.

  Broderick paused as though he hadn’t already made up his mind. “Yeah. We’ll give it a shot. On a probationary period, mind you. Where are you two staying?”

  “We’re at Lena’s,” answered Phil.

  “Good enough. You can bunk in the room behind the barn starting tomorrow.”

  Cam offered his hand again. “We’ll be there. Thanks a lot, Mr. Broderick.”

  “Call me Bill. No Mr. Broderick from this point on.”

  Cam was about to thank the man again when the sound of an angry voice took everyone’s attention.

  “Fuck off, Purdy. You can’t cut me off.”

  Cam switched his attention to a man at the other end of the bar. The dark-haired man was as skinny as a blade of grass and drunk off his butt. Even while holding onto the counter, he had a difficult time staying on his feet.

  The bartender—Purdy—crossed his arms and glared. “Hank, you’ve had enough. I’m not pouring you another drink.”

  “The hell you’re not.” Hank slammed his hand down on the counter. “I’m a paying customer, damn it. Pour me a goddamn beer.”

  “Nope. Not a chance.” Purdy flipped a hand towel over his shoulder. “You’re only choice is this. Do you want me to call your daughters or do you want to sleep it off on the cot in the back?”

  Cam and Phil’s father had suffered from drink, too. It didn’t take much for Cam to see that Hank wasn’t going to stay on his feet much longer. He crossed the room, eating up the distance, and got there just in time to catch the man before he fell backward. Phil helped out by taking Hank’s other arm.

  “Hey, man, take it easy. I’ve got you.” By then, however, he was talking to no one. Hank had passed out.

  Purdy came out from behind the bar. “Thanks for the help, boys. I should’ve seen it coming.” He motioned for Cam to follow him. “Bring him on back.”

  With Phil taking the man’s legs, Cam took Hank’s arms and started after Purdy. The long hallway led to a room at the back. Once the bartender had opened the door, Cam eased through.

  “Just stretch him out over here.”

  The room was filled with shelves stocked with supplies. An old, army-style cot was shoved against the far wall. Together, he and his brother laid Hank out on the cot. Purdy pulled a blanket off a shelf and covered the now-snoring man.

  “I’m guessing he sleeps back here a lot.” How many times had he slung their father’s arm over his shoulder and carried him into the house? Too many to remember. If their father hadn’t died getting
thrown from a horse—while drunk—he’d probably still be helping his father get home from the local watering hole.

  Purdy shrugged. “You’d be right. Still, I figure letting him crash here gives his daughters a break.”

  “No mate?” asked Phil.

  Cam knew his brother was thinking the same thing he was. Their own mother had given up trying to get her husband to care about her more than he did the bottle. She’d lived her own life, letting their father live his. Cam and Phil had grown up wishing they’d had real parents instead of two separate people who just happened to reside in the same house.

  “Nope. She took off years ago.” Purdy led the way back to the main room of the bar. He took his place behind the counter again. “I’ll give his daughter, Danna, a call. You two want a beer?”

  “Sure,” answered Phil.

  His brother liked to drink more than he did, but a cold beer was a good thing on a warm night. “Yeah. Pour us a couple of drafts.”

  Purdy positioned a glass under the spigot. “On the house. Take it as my thanks for helping out.”

  Cam accepted the drink and let the cool liquid slide down his throat. All and all the day had turned out well. But what would tomorrow bring?

  Chapter Two

  “Georgia, I need more time. I’m doing everything I can to turn a profit this year. All I need is a few more months. Give me time to sell the cattle.” Danna stuffed down the urge to hurl.

  “Sorry. No can do.”

  There it is. The hint of smugness in her tone. Damn, how I’d love to shove her words back down her throat.

  Danna hated talking to Georgia Gill, the new manager at the Bank of Crosston, even about ordinary mundane things. But to have Georgia holding the fate of the ranch in her hands was almost more than she could stand. Georgia had given her hell all the way through high school after Georgia’s boyfriend had dumped her to date Danna. Or to try to date Danna. She’s been savvy enough to realize dating Georgia’s ex would spell disaster. What she hadn’t counted on was the werepanther hating her even though she’d kept turning Johnny Zimmerman down. Nothing she’d tried, no amount of kindness, had changed Georgia’s mind, either.

  And now the bitch had the upper hand and loved the hell out of it.

  Danna wanted to slap the smirk off Georgia’s face, too, but she held back. Hitting the woman wasn’t going to help, although it sure as hell would’ve made her feel a ton better. It was bad enough that Purdy had called her last night to tell her about her father sleeping off his latest binge at Roar. But to have to run to the bank before picking him up had started the day off in a really bad way. If only she could make it through the morning, maybe the afternoon would be better.

  “All I’m asking for is a few more months. Harold would’ve given me at least six months.”

  Georgia arched an imperious eyebrow.

  What next? An evil cackle?

  “Harold already gave you way too many extensions. More than he should have. It’s time to admit you’ve failed. Your only choice is to sell the ranch and pay off your loan. Since you won’t sell, then the bank has no choice but to foreclose.” She leaned back in her leather executive chair.

  Danna imagined she could hear the woman purring.

  “Sweetie—”

  God, how I hate it when she calls me sweetie.

  “—Harold’s gone and all his slacker ways are gone, too. I’m in charge now.”

  Danna gritted her teeth. “And the foreclosure has nothing to do with our past, right?”

  Georgia batted her eyes and plastered on an innocent face. “Of course not.”

  She scribbled something on the paperwork in front of her. “We’re both adults now, Danna. I went to college and earned a business degree. Now I’m working here, deciding who’s a good risk and who isn’t. I wouldn’t let any past disagreements cloud my judgment. After all, I’m responsible for the bank’s interests. That means I hold people’s lives and futures in my hands.”

  In your claws is more like it.

  Georgia’s lips curved upward. “You graduated with a degree in pre-law, right? Sounded ambitious, didn’t it?” She pouted a little, shooting her a pitying look. “And now you’re back running cattle. Seems like a waste of money and time.”

  I want to smack her silly. And knock her down. And stomp her through the floor.

  She’d often wished she’d been born with shifter blood and now was one of those times when she wished it even harder. Yet maybe it was better that she wasn’t part weretiger. Otherwise, she might’ve shifted and scratched Georgia’s snarky smirk right off her face. As it was, with Georgia being a black panther and Danna only human, she’d have no chance against the woman.

  “I’m going to law school.”

  “Oh, really? Good for you. I hadn’t heard. Which school accepted you?”

  She’d walked right into that one. “I’m still waiting to hear.”

  “I see.” Georgia’s smugness was sickening. “Well, think of it this way. If you get into a school, you won’t be able to take care of a ranch. Harriet’s going to live with her men at their place, right? Which only leaves your father to run things. And we both know he can’t handle the work.”

  “I’ll find him help. And I’ll come back as often as I can.”

  She’d hoped Harriet’s men would help out, but they’d already said running their own ranch would be all they could handle. Not that they actually ran the place. Their father had left them with money. Money they used to hire hands. Still, she’d been shocked and disappointed at their refusal. In Twisted, neighbors helped neighbors, but the Wills brothers listened to her sister, who didn’t want them running two ranches.

  “Come on. You’re working the place full time now and not making it. Popping in every so often won’t do the job.” She stood, signaling the end of the meeting. “Look, I’m sorry, but I have no choice but to initiate foreclosure proceedings. Have a good rest of your day.”

  Danna had expected as much, yet it still caught her off-guard. She wanted to argue, wanted to make a case that would change the bitch’s mind, but it was useless. Instead, she stood up, holding her head up with as much dignity as she could muster. “I’m not giving up.”

  “Miracles don’t happen. At least around not around here. But whatever. Face the facts or not. Either way, it won’t change anything.”

  Danna’s gaze strayed to the heavy paperweight on the desk. Her palm itched to pick it up and use it, but as furious as she was, she kept her head. If mere looks could kill, Georgia Gill would already be six feet under. Instead of acting on her feelings, she pivoted around and stalked out of the office.

  * * * *

  Phil was antsy. Something pulled at him and he didn’t think it was first-day jitters about the job on Broderick’s ranch. But what else could it be?

  “We need to get going, Cam. Bill’s expecting us.”

  Cam shoved his chair back, pushing away from the generous brunch Lena had set out on the table. They hadn’t bothered to unpack their suitcases and were ready to make the transition from the bed and breakfast to Bill’s ranch. “Ready. But I need to stop by Roar first.”

  “What for?”

  “I can’t find my phone and I’m thinking maybe it slipped out of my pocket when we helped carry that Hank guy to the back.”

  “Fine, but let’s make it quick.” Whatever was tugging at him might be at the ranch. “We don’t want to be late the first day.”

  “Bill’s not expecting us until noon. We’ll make it there in time.”

  Hollering their thanks to Lena, they bounded down the steps toward their pickup. As usual, Cam slid behind the wheel and Phil rode shotgun. He’d buy his own truck once they were settled.

  Twisted was smaller than their hometown of Madison and it only took a few minutes to drive to Roar. The lights were on and the door open. Just like a lot of small town bars, Roar was open at all hours, serving coffee before the beer started flowing later in the day.

  Phil slid onto a barstool
and waved off an offer of a cup of hot brew from Purdy. Purdy set the pot down and leaned over the counter to shake his hand.

  “I didn’t get your names last night. Name’s Lawson Purdy, but folks call me Purdy.”

  “I’m Phil Nordstrom and this is my brother Cam. We’re going to be helping Bill Broderick out on his ranch.”

  Purdy nodded. “Good deal. Old Bill can use the help.” He reached under the bar and brought out a phone. “Is this one of yours?”

  “Sure is. Thanks for keeping it.”

  “No problem.”

  “So who’s the guy that was shit-faced last night?”

  “Hank Harris. He owns the Cracked Creek Ranch about twenty miles between here and Crosston.”

  “I got the impression he’s a regular.” Then again, probably most of the residents popped into Roar at one time or another.

  “Yeah. He’s basically a good guy, but into the bottle too much.”

  “I didn’t think you served anything except beer.”

  “We don’t. Curtis Podgens, the owner of Roar, wanted to have a place where the locals could get a good brew. Most of the folks around here only want a cold beer anyway. But that doesn’t mean they can’t go to Crosston and buy whatever hard liquor they want. Hell, Curtis has his own stash of booze.”

  Cam helped himself to a cup of brew. “Is Harris still here?”

  “Sure is. His daughter will be around soon enough to haul his ass home.” Purdy’s gaze lifted toward the door. “Speak of the devil’s daughter now.”

  Phil swiveled around along with his brother. A silhouette blocked part of the flash of sunlight that came with the opening of the door. When the door closed, his eyes adjusted quickly. His head, however, had a difficult time doing the same.

  The beauty of the woman had taken his mind and thrown it into turmoil.

  “Holy crap,” muttered Cam.

  My thoughts exactly.

  “Hey, Danna. How’re you doing today?” asked Purdy.

  Her gaze drifted from Cam to him to Purdy. An unfamiliar feeling whipped through him when she took her attention away from him. He was flat out, green-to-the-bone jealous.