Page 67 of Cowboy Elite 2: Mike

"My gut's been screaming for six months."

"Then it's time we taught you the difference between panic and intuition." Heather whistled for Mo, who came bounding back. "Fair warning, I'm not going to go easy on you just because you're new at this."

"Good." Liv managed a small smile. "I don't want easy. I want effective."

Heather grinned. "You're gonna fit in just fine around here."

As Liv walked back toward the house, she felt something shift in her chest. Not confidence. Not yet. But determination. Purpose.

She wasn't going to be a victim anymore.

And she sure as hell wasn't going to let the people she loved get hurt protecting her while she stood by helpless.

If trouble was coming, and it was, she'd meet it standing.

That evening, Mike found Liv by the smoker, watching Cooter tend the brisket with the kind of intense focus usually reserved for heart surgery.

"You doing okay?" Mike asked, settling beside her on the weathered bench.

"I don't know." Liv's voice was quiet. "Everyone's being so kind. Grandpa Quentin, Arletta, all those people today. It's overwhelming."

"Small towns can be like that. When you're in, you're all the way in."

"Even when I've brought nothing but trouble?"

"Especially then." Mike's hand found hers. "We Texans have a thing about protecting the underdog."

She was quiet for a moment, watching the smoke curl up into the darkening sky. "You all made Harris leave, didn't you."

It wasn't a question.

"Joe made Harris an offer," Mike said carefully. "One that benefits everyone involved."

"I don't want to know the details, do I?"

"Probably not."

She nodded, accepting this. "Will it work? Will Harris actually leave?"

"For now. But Liv—" Mike turned her to face him. "Harris leaving doesn't mean the threat's over. Whoever hired him will send someone else eventually."

"I know." Her voice was barely a whisper.

"So the question is, what do you want to do?"

She looked at him, really looked. At this man who'd offered her a job without questions, who'd held her through nightmares, who'd chosen her over and over again even when walking away would've been easier.

"I want to stay," she said. "I want to learn how to smoke brisket and help Charlotte with the bake sale and wake up at five a.m. to make biscuits with you." Her voice broke. "I want this. All of it. Even knowing what might be coming."

Mike's hands came up to frame her face. "Then we dig in and fight for it.”

"What if we can't win?"

"Then we fight anyway." He leaned in, pressed his forehead to hers. "Because you're worth fighting for, Liv. And I'll be damned if I lose you without trying."

She kissed him then, desperate and fierce and full of everything she couldn't say out loud.

The kiss tasted like fear and fury and something deeper. Need, maybe. Want, definitely. The desperate human drive to feel alive when death keeps circling closer.