Sworn Enemy: An MM Enemies-To-Lovers Book (Wild Heart Ranch 1)

There’s a tinny knock on the front door just as Erik and I finish our morning coffees. We exchange a glance, neither of us expecting anyone this morning.

One look through the peephole, however, clears it up, and I can’t help the grin spreading across my face. Opening the door, I greet the guy who’s taken over my brain and body in a most delightful way.

“Hey, Justin. This is a nice surprise.”

His smile is shy, but his eyes are happy. “I’m glad to hear it. I, uh, wanted to chat with you if you have a minute,” he says, looking over my shoulder at Erik.

Erik hops up. “I’m about to check on the horses.”

“Thanks, Erik,” Justin says, fist-bumping him. “I appreciate it.”

Once Erik has cleared the trailer, I turn to the guy putting the goofy-ass leer on my face this morning and pull him into my arms. “What’s up, ba—uh, Justin?”

His face tries to do something serious, but his mouth won’t cooperate. I kiss him, gently pushing him against the front door. It seems we’re both dealing with uncooperative body parts because I roll my hips, and he pushes back against me, both of us already hard.

I trail kisses down his neck, and he lets out a pleasured moan.

“Fuck, I can’t think straight around you,” he mutters, sliding his hands between us to undo his jeans.

Nipping his ear, I yank at my button fly. “Me either.”

Pushing our underwear out of the way, I grab both of us in hand as he lets a line of spit drool onto our cocks. I add a bit more of my own and begin stroking us. Cursing my name, he thrusts into my palm, the friction against my dick making my thighs go weak.

We’re coming within seconds, and my orgasm is brutal, coating my hand in our combined spunk as the muscles in my neck and jaw tense.

I collapse against him, pinning him to the door, and he surrounds me with his long arms, still rolling his hips against mine, shivering through the aftershocks.

After a few minutes, he chuckles, sending gentle vibrations through my body. He kisses the side of my head, and we pull apart, laughing at the mess we’ve made.

His shirt’s rucked up and cum is smeared through the hair on his belly. Meanwhile, both my jeans and my button-down are a mess. Still laughing, we stumble into my bathroom and clean up as best we can.

I change my clothes, and he manages to spot clean his jeans and T-shirt. Smiling at him in the mirror, I hip-check him. “Sorry, not sorry for the derail. What did you need to—”

My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I hold up my finger. “Do you mind if I get this? Looks like it’s the Rangers.”

“Of course,” he says, kissing my temple.

I hit the Accept button. “Go for Wills.”

“Mr. Wills, Captain Ronald Jackson here of the Texas Rangers, IPC division. I was told that you are a search and rescue specialist in Central Texas.”

Dammit. IPC is kids.

“That I am, Captain Jackson. How can I help you?”

“Little kid snuck out from his grandma’s restaurant in Sonora last night, and we’ve been unable to find him. With the hot weather predicted for today…”

“You need more people on the ground.”

“Yes. We have air support, but we’re told the kid is smart and may have taken cover.”

“Got it. I’m about two hours out. Do you already have bloodhounds on it?”

“No, sir, we don’t. Was gonna ask if you had one you could bring.”

“No problem. It’ll be me, my right-hand guy, Erik Bash, and I have another associate who might be able to join us. Need anything else from me?”

“Nope. That’s more than I could’ve asked for. I’ll text you the location of the restaurant. That’s where we’re home-basing out of.”

“See you in a bit, Captain.”

“Thank you much.”

With that, I look over at Justin. “I promise, I want to talk about this—”

“I heard,” he says, grabbing my shirt. “It’s kinda sexy to watch you go into hero mode. Besides, what I want to talk about is nothing bad. I met Ant, and I have questions about him. And you, I guess.”

“Okay,” I say, cupping his jaw as my heart speeds up. “There is definitely more to talk about there, but it’s not a conversation I want to rush. I just…I need to grab Erik and get on the road.”

“Of course,” he says, the trust in his eyes warming me down to my toes.

I can only hope to be worthy of it.

Pulling him to me, I kiss his nose. “Think you might want to go with us to Sonora and help find a lost kid? It’ll probably be an overnight, but I think you won’t mind shacking up with me in some seedy motel for the night.”

“Wait—you want me to come with you?”

“Of course.”

“I mean, I need some underwear and a toothbrush, but I’m guessing we can pick those up along the way.”

“I think the Family Dollar will get you squared away,” I joke.

He kisses me. “Uh, sure. Let me call my crew.”

I smack his ass as he pulls out his phone, and he looks back with a lip-bitten, red-cheeked grin.

As I make my way across the property to the barn, I send up a small prayer that he can accept the reality of what it is I do.

Sitting atop Twilight with Justin on Pinky at my side, I wipe the sweat and grime from my forehead. The sun’s about to set, and we still haven’t found the little boy. Anxiety churns my stomach.

It’s hot in the arid brushland outside of Sonora and smells of ozone and dust. Little Scottie Gonzalez is almost certainly afraid, dehydrated, and sunburnt. If he’s still alive.

His grandmother was watching him while his mother recovered in San Antonio from a hysterectomy. The restaurant’s security cameras captured him carefully leaving the kitchen in the middle of dinner service. He looked back to ensure he wasn’t being followed, then raced down the alley as fast as his eight-year-old legs would take him.

He’d thrown a fit earlier when his grandmother wouldn’t let him go over to a friend’s house, and it’s suspected that he tried to make the six-mile journey in the dark. We know he didn’t arrive at that or any other friend’s house, and he hasn’t been found along any known routes.

I kinda wish my buddies in the Texas Rangers had called me right away, though it’s damn near impossible to look for a kid in the dark. Justin seems excited to do this with me, and I want it to go well.

The good folks of Sonora are managing the grid searches within the small town, and we are responsible for all the unincorporated land areas, having worked with the local landowners to get permission to search their properties in case he tried to cut through.

Given the kid’s size, and assuming he wasn’t picked up by a stranger, he couldn’t have gone very far. We focused on one particular ranch as a prime place for him to go, and within the first hour, we found his little hoodie. But it’s been nearly twenty-four hours of him being exposed to the elements on one of the hottest days of the year, and we have nothing else to show for our efforts.

Erik and I have been checking in with each other at the bottom and top of every hour.

I pull up my walkie. “Charlie here, area four is a no-go. There’s nothing approaching shelter here. Suggest I join you in area five for all of us to check out the dry riverbed.”

Erik’s walkie crackles to life. “Yeah, I think that’s a good idea. The landowner said there’s a stand of trees about halfway down, right by the bend. There may be some run-off from this last weekend’s rain.”

“Roger that, Bash,” I say, clipping the walkie back to my waistband.

A few seconds later, Erik’s location pin shows up on my phone. Justin, who has been quiet but focused, takes off with me, going as quickly as we can through the brush.

Half an hour later, I spy Erik in the distance astride his horse, with Moose wearing his booties to protect against the heat, waiting on the ground for his next command.

I walkie over. “Justin and I are gonna make our way along the dry riverbank. If the kid’s taken shelter under one of these limestone outcroppings, that won’t be so bad.”

He hums across the line. “Yeah, it’d keep him shaded, but rattlesnakes like to hang out under those kinds of outcroppings, so use caution.”

“Duly noted.”

I sigh as I holster the walkie-talkie. It’s the pace of this search that’s got me stressed. The sky’s turning all kinds of beautiful colors, with violent orange and magenta battling for glory. It’s damn near impossible to illuminate the dusk, and it feels like we’ve looked through a thousand of these little nooks and crannies.

Justin suddenly grabs his binoculars, then points in the distance. “Thought I saw some movement around that outcropping.”

“Justin might have something. Start heading this way.”

“You got it,” Erik responds. He keeps his walkie on when he gives Moose the order. “Moose, find.”

With a rough, growling bark, Moose bolts. He maintains the back-and-forth sniffing, but now at double speed. Triple speed. Now in a direct line to the same place we’re going—a microscopic outcropping over the mostly dry riverbed.

He barks loud, and we all converge on the outcropping.

We begin to call out Scottie’s name, and before too long, I hear a sound that’s music to my ears.

A kid screeching in terror. Moose celebrates with barks and yips, making the kid scream even louder.

“Moose, down,” Erik commands. “Look sweet.”

Moose immediately flattens to the ground, chin on his front paws, looking up at the scared little boy with angelic eyes. Scottie Gonzalez blinks up at me, still terrified, and I hop down from Twilight, removing my wraparound sunglasses so he can see my eyes. Justin eases himself off Pinky and stands quietly to the side.

I smile, and Scottie begins to wail, then runs to Justin and wraps his arms around his knees. Poor kid. Justin crouches down, and Scottie practically flings himself into Justin’s arms.

His nose is blistered from sunburn, and his lips are cracked and dry, but he’s okay. I hold out a small bottle of water, which he takes and sucks down immediately. I refill it just as Erik comes cantering up to us.

He dismounts, and the kid’s eyes go wide. He’s quite the Viking at six-and-a-half feet tall, but just like with Ant, Scottie isn’t afraid of him. Score another for Mr. Gentle Giant.

“What’s your name?” he asks, his voice soothing.

“S-Scottie.”

“Hi, Scottie. I’m Erik, and the guys who found you are Charlie and Justin. Did you get lost?”

He nods, sniffling loudly. “I wanted to visit Diego, but I didn’t know the way.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry. Your Abuelita Julia got real worried and asked us to find you. We’re going to take you to her now, okay?”

Big tears crest and fall as he nods. Erik reaches into his tactical vest and pulls out a melted, fun-size Snickers bar. “Abuelita says that this is your favorite candy bar.”

He nods and takes it from Erik’s large hands, sucking the melted chocolate from the wrapper so fast I worry he’ll choke. We have him eat one more to stabilize him and then, given the time and location, call the county to meet us at the nearest highway, about four clicks to the north.

I grab my walkie. “Wills, here. We have Scottie, and he is good. He found shelter, so his burns and dehydration are minimal.”

“That’s outstanding news. Will he need medical attention?”

“Yes. Better safe than sorry to have the ambulance waiting at the checkpoint.”

“Roger that.”

“Over and out.”

“We’re all going to go riding on a horse now,” I say, matching my tone to Erik’s. “Do you wanna ride with Justin, me, or Erik?”

Scottie tightens his hold on Justin, who sends me one of his shy smiles. Erik, the jackass, finger-guns me. Means I’m paying for the coffee tomorrow morning. Though initially intimidated by Moose, Scottie claps his hands and laughs hysterically when Erik hitches him up in a specialized backpack. Once Erik is in place on Dash, Justin mounts Pinky, and I hand him Scottie, who he belts to the front of the tactical vest I gave him.

I mount Twilight, and with the dark skies and bright stars around us, we take off toward the meeting point with the Rangers. It’s a spot along the county road about twenty minutes from our point of discovery, and the ride, accompanied by the nighttime soundtrack of crickets and locusts, is beautiful.

When we arrive, we wave down the Ranger’s vehicles, and Scottie’s Abuelita Julia jumps out of the car. She hurries over to us, hugging Scottie for all he’s worth, the tears on her face illuminated by the flashing lights.

She gives us big hugs and tear-stained kisses on our cheeks, and we have an open invitation to her little restaurant whenever we’re in Sonora.

We take the horses to the Rangers’ stables and get them set up for the evening, then grab a quick meal at Julia’s restaurant.

“Fuck,” Justin hisses under his breath. “Don’t tell Desi, but these are the best enchiladas I’ve ever had. We’re coming back here for sure.”

Erik grins but keeps his opinions to himself. Meanwhile, I bite back a smile, unreasonably happy that Justin wants to come back, presumably with me.

We’re too exhausted to wrangle the horses and make the trip home, so we find a quaint old-school roadside motel. Erik doesn’t comment when we ask for a separate room…away from his.

He tips his worn-out baseball cap at us, and Justin detours for some ice. I’m stripping down to my boxers when I hear Justin’s voice pitch up.

“Hey, guys. I’m just heading in for the night.”

A low, menacing voice outside the door responds, “We see the goddamn rainbow sticker on your hitch. You one of them queers?”

I swing the door wide open, wearing only my boxers and a snarl. Justin is flanked by two guys who look like someone accidentally ass-backwarded the mix of brain and brawn.

“Gentlemen. There a problem out here?”

The fact they’ve got a couple of inches and several pounds of muscle on me is not the least bit concerning.

“Yeah. You two are my problem. Get your queer asses out of town. This ain’t the place for you.”

Justin swallows nervously, and I send a wink his way. His brows go up, but some of the anxiety bleeds from his tight expression.

“Well, gentlemen, the hotel folks took my money, so you can bet that this is, in fact, the place for me. You, however, may want to wander on down the road a piece,” I say, grinning like a talk show host.

“Who the hell’s gonna make us? You?”

“Honestly, I’d rather have my boyfriend come inside and take a shower with me. We’ve had a long day, you understand.”

“Fuck you. You can’t just go on with your disgusting ways in our town.”

I snort. People who act like nothing like this ever happens in their vicinity are completely out of touch with reality.

“Gentlemen, this is a you issue. I promise it’ll work out better if you keep on trucking.”

“Who the fuck are you telling me what to do?” the bigger one asks with not one whiff of irony.

I am overly familiar with this particular breed of human being. They’re endemic, their assumed righteousness a pox on the entire planet. They see no hypocrisy in boldly telling others what they can and cannot do while violently rejecting even the barest suggestion of a wiser course of action.

I feel it is my lot in life to remind men like these—violently if necessary—that their opinions are not law and certainly no law I’ll ever obey.

“To answer your question, the name’s Charles Wills. I’m a black belt in more martial arts than you’ve ever heard of, and I’d rather not break your nose.”

Pushing Justin aside, he rages, “Who the fuck do you—”

Out of patience, I palm strike his nose, adjusting the force and angle so as not to kill him. Doesn’t mean I don’t make sure it fucking hurts. He folds in half, blood pouring from his shattered nose as he cusses and spits on the sidewalk.

The second guy decides not to take the hint I’ve so generously handed them and instead comes at me with a haymaker my grandmother could track. I grab his fist mid-punch and push up against his elbow with my other hand, powering the move from my hips.

He screams as the overextended joint gives way. He tries to kick at me, which I evade pretty easily. Letting go of his useless arm, I stomp down on his anchor foot. He stumbles forward, bent over in pain, and I give his eyebrow a little tap to remind him I mean business.

Cracking my neck, I turn to the first guy, who’s still holding his nose. “Take your friend here to the minor emergency room, get his elbow joint reset and splinted. And don’t get any ideas about grabbing whatever boomstick you’ve got in this jacked-up truck of yours because I will take it from you, and you won’t like the results.”

The first guy, blood running down past his chin, tenses his jaw but seems to decide I might be telling the truth. He shuffles his friend off into his truck, and they peel out of the parking lot.

“You know they’re going to come back with their friends,” Justin says, reaching for my hand.

I grab it, kissing his knuckles as I send a one-handed text to my new best friends in the Sutton County sheriff’s department.

“No, they won’t.”

His inhale is a little shaky, and the pink on his cheeks tells me he likes the certainty in my voice. Turning my hand over, he noses the area of my palm I used to take down the big guy.

“Wow,” he whispers softly. “Those guys didn’t even leave a mark on you.”

Not gonna lie. I flex a little, puffed up over the fact that he’s impressed.

“I didn’t really want to get into an all-out brawl in my boxers, so I figured a quick bloodletting would get us both naked faster.”

That nets me more smiling and blushing, a definite tick in the win column.

“Excellent planning, though…boyfriend, huh?”

Now it’s my cheeks turning red. I really did say boyfriend, didn’t I?

“I was just letting them know the score,” I shrug, mostly confident.

He smiles and steals a kiss.

“Would you like to take that shower with me?” I whisper.

He nods, tucking his hair behind his ear. “Uh. Yes, please.”