Playing With Fire (Tangled in Texas, #2)(27)

“True. But maybe when the cops get here, I’ll tell them about the little side business you’ve been running.”

Joe’s brows rose slightly. “Uh, side business?”

I rolled my eyes. “You think I haven’t noticed the multitude of cars stopping at your house at all hours of the night? It’s obviously something illegal you don’t want the sheriff knowing about.”

He glared back at me. “What are you doing—spying on us?”

“Oh, please. Anyone with half a brain could figure out you’re doing something shady over here. Did you really think you wouldn’t get caught sooner or later?”

“Look, you little bitch—”

“No, you look!” I yelled, poking him in the chest. He grunted, but stood his ground as I continued. “Since I moved in a few weeks ago, you two have been nothing but rude and obnoxious. You play your music too loud, you have friends coming and going all hours of the night, and setting off fireworks is dangerous. I’m not going to tolerate this crap any longer. I won’t allow you morons to burn down my home with me inside.”

In retaliation, he leaned over and grasped my arm in a bruising grip, his hands cold as ice. “You may not have much of a choice,” he snarled.

“E-excuse me?”

“You heard me, lady. Better watch yourself. That sassy mouth just might get you into trouble one of these days. I don’t know where you came from, but ’round here, neighbors who go buttin’ their noses where they don’t belong tend to get…burned.”

My eyes widened at his insinuation, but I couldn’t speak. I glanced in Cowboy’s direction and realized that, although he’d finished putting out the burning bush, he’d been oblivious to the heated argument going on next door. Between the distance and the whipping wind rustling the leaves on the trees, he hadn’t heard a single word.

With no witnesses, I had no way to prove what Joe said to me. Not only did he threaten me, but he chose the most terrifying way imaginable.

Fire.



A hoarse sob broke from my throat.

Shoulders slumped and fighting back the tears stinging my eyes, I stood in their pea gravel driveway as the Barlow brothers disappeared inside their house, letting the screen door bang against the jamb behind them. Part of me wanted to march in after them and give them another piece of my mind, but the other part—a much bigger part—was afraid of what would happen to me if I did.

I glanced back over my shoulder just in time to see Cowboy toss the hose aside and cut across the lawn, heading in my direction. I swiped the tears that had dropped onto my cheeks and blinked to clear any additional moisture from my eyes. I couldn’t let him see me like this.

By the time he reached me, I had taken a few deep breaths and calmed myself considerably, though I hadn’t moved an inch.

“Where’d Tweedledee and Tweedledum go?”

I closed my eyes and swallowed hard. “They went inside.” My voice cracked on the last word and I cringed. The last thing I wanted was for Cowboy to see or hear how they’d affected me.

“Anna…?”

I turned to walk past him, but he grasped my shoulders and held me there, his eyes searching mine for answers. No doubt they were still shiny from the tears that had been there moments before. “What happened?” he asked.

“Nothing.”

His face hardened and his jaw tightened. “Bullshit. Tell me.”

“It’s nothing, okay? I told them I’d call the police if this didn’t stop and…well, he threatened me.”

I barely finished the sentence before Cowboy’s intense eyes sparked with fury and his mouth twisted into a frightening sneer. “I’m gonna kill ’em,” he said, dropping my arm and starting for their house in a full-on bout of rage.

“No! Please don’t. You’ll only make things worse.” I grasped his arm, digging my fingernails into his skin to stop him. Not only was he outnumbered, but those two brothers were clearly unstable. I didn’t want Cowboy to get hurt. “You can’t go in there.”

“Watch me.”

“It wasn’t a big deal. I doubt Joe even meant it. He was just being a jerk.”

Cowboy paused. “What exactly did he say to you?”

“Joe told me…” I hesitated, but took a deep breath. “He said he would burn my house down…with me inside.”

He blinked at me, as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Then lightning flashed in his eyes. “Those little bastards,” he said, shaking out of my grip. “Stay here. I’ll be back after I have a few words with them.”

But I knew that was a lie. He wasn’t going in there to do any talking. No, he was going in there with every intention of beating the hell out of them. I could see it in his stiff posture and the way his teeth gnashed together in anger. But I couldn’t let that happen.

I jumped in front of him and put my hand on his chest. Like that did any good. He glared at it, pushed my hand aside, then picked me up and physically moved me out of his way. I was no match for his strength. It was the equivalent of me trying to stop a speeding train with my bare hands.

As he strode briskly away, I panicked and blurted out, “My mother died in a fire!”

The grief and sadness must’ve registered in my voice because he stopped in his tracks and looked back at me. A dull ache gnawed at my insides, dredging up an emptiness I hadn’t felt in years. His withering stare softened and his eyes flooded with compassion and understanding. That was the moment the dam broke wide open. Tears dripped freely onto my cheeks and I wiped at them, smearing the painful memories down my face. Apparently it was enough to convince him I needed him to stay more than he needed to defend my honor.