Page 124 of Roping Her Alien Ranchers

“Derek,” I said, keeping my voice neutral with effort. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“The season opening event?” He smirked. “Seems silly not to expect me. You know I make it a point to keep up with all developments in Junction City’s breeding network.” His slow drawl was a shade too careful to be natural. “Though I must admit, I am surprised by this particular development.” He gave a quick jerk of his head, indicating the display. “Last I’d heard, Sunflower Hills was all washed up, new owner about to foreclose. She couldn’t even feed her horses properly.”

He was being careful not to betray his relationship to me. He wanted to soil my reputation before I could even make one for myself here. The woman beside me paused, check still extended, her eyes moving between us with sudden wariness.

“We’ve had some fortunate investments,” I said smoothly. “And some excellent help with the breeding program.”

Derek’s gaze slid past me to where Vantor had straightened from his position by the door, his massive frame suddenly alert. Part of me wanted to warn Derek that he didn’t want to mess with me today, but the other part of me wanted to see how this was going to play out. If the safeguard we’d implemented actually worked against him, it would make my day. Might even surpass the sight of him driving away covered in horse dung.

“Why, yes. I’ve heard about your... foreign workers.” The pause was deliberate, the implication clear. “Three men who showed up out of nowhere, no previous ranching experience, and somehow turned around a failing operation in record time. Sounds too good to be true, don’t it?”

He leaned closer, his voice dropping conspiratorially. He still spoke deliberately loud enough for his words to carry though. I winced as his cigar-laced breath pushed against me. “Immigration would be very interested in their paperwork, I imagine. As would the IRS, given what’s about to be a sudden cash flow.” Derek’s gaze flicked over and down to the woman’s check, then his eyes collided with mine. Cold. Ice freaking cold.

My hand tightened on the pen, knuckles whitening. “They’re here legally,” I said, the words coming out more defensively than I’d intended. “Their documentation is all in order.”

“Is it?” Derek’s smile widened, a predator sensing weakness. “Because I don’t recall seeing any visa applications processed for Junction City in the past year. And the improvements to your property alone would cost more than the ranch’s assessed value.” He took a step closer, invading my space with deliberate intimidation. “So, either you’re cooking meth in that fancy new barn, or your boyfriends aren’t exactly playing by the rules.”

The crowd had gone quiet around us, all pretense of conversation abandoned as they openly watched the confrontation. I felt heat rising in my cheeks—embarrassment, anger, and a flash of the old fear that Derek had always been so skilled at triggering.

“They’re not—” I began but got no further.

Derek took another step toward me, close enough now that I was drowning within the cocktail of his rank breath and the expensive cologne he splashed on every morning.

I looked over to Vantor, who was already moving. Then I turned my head, finding Cyro and Kalith also approaching. They weren’t running, trying not to alarm the crowd. I gave a little shake of my head, making sure they knew I didn’t want to make this worse than it already was. Besides, I had a payback ace up my sleeve.

“I think,” he said, his voice carrying to the watching crowd, “that the breeding community deserves to know exactly what they’re investing in. Because something doesn’t add up, Tammy. And in my experience, when something seems too good to be true...”

He reached for the holographic display controller sitting on the table—whether to examine it or disrupt it, I wasn’t sure. My aliens weren’t going to make it in time to stop Derek from messing with our equipment, but they didn’t need to.

Because the moment Derek’s fingers closed around the controller, there was a soft, almost inaudible click. Derek froze, his body going rigid as if he’d touched a live wire. His eyes widened, mouth opening in a silent “O” of surprise. Then, with horrible clarity, a loud gurgling sound emerged from his abdomen. Then a second. A third.

Wet, rolling waves of gaseous sound.

“No,” he whispered, his face draining of color. “No, no, no⁠—”

He dropped the controller and turned, prepared to retreat. He was far too slow. A dark stain spread rapidly across the expensive denim of his jeans, accompanied by a smell that made several people in the front row step back hastily. Derek made a strangled sound of humiliation, his hands flying to cover the spreading wetness as he backed away from my booth.

“I—I need to—” he stammered, but whatever excuse he’d been planning was lost as another cramp visibly seized him. He turned and fled, half-running, half-hobbling toward the exit, leaving a trail of muffled laughter and hastily covered smiles in his wake.

The woman with the check was staring after him, her expression caught between disgust and amazement. “What just happened?” she asked, turning back to me.

I met Vantor’s eyes as he came to stand by my side. He offered me a slight, satisfied nod. The device he’d implanted in the controller had worked perfectly, delivering exactly the non-lethal but extremely effective deterrent we’d discussed.

“I believe,” I said, keeping my voice carefully neutral, “that Mr. Morgan just discovered the consequences of making unfounded accusations.” I accepted her check with a steady hand.

I raised my voice, addressing the watching crowd. “If anyone is worried about the legality of Sunflower Hills and its workers, we are happy to make our paperwork public knowledge.” I could offer this without worry. Kalith, using the wonder of the worldwide dark web, had already hacked everything necessary to legalize their status. They even had driver’s licenses and passports now. The only card Derek had ever held against me had just turned to ash, and I was the one holding the match now. Area-51 could suck their tentacles.

My voice returning to normal, I smiled warmly at the buyer. “Now, about those foals. Would you like to schedule a visit to the ranch to see the broodmare and stud?”

Her face lit up, and I had a feeling we were about to embark on a wonderful business journey.

The crowd gradually returned to normal, conversations resuming with a new undercurrent of amusement whenever Derek’s name was mentioned. I completed the paperwork with practiced efficiency, my earlier nervousness replaced by a calm certainty. This was my world now—these people, this business, this life I’d built with my three impossible aliens. And no smug, manipulative ex was going to take it from me. What he didn’t know yet was that his reign of petty terror had an expiration date.

Two days later, Vantor—who did not believe in leaving threats un-neutralized—made sure an anonymous package reached the county fire marshal: a sealed sample of accelerant lifted from my scorched fence posts, an analysis no rural lab could have produced, and a tidy account of exactly where Derek had been the night my stable burned. By the time the foals came, my ex had traded his custom truck for a court date, and his threats against me for the far more pressing problem of saving his own hide.

As the initial rush subsided, I caught glimpses of my men moving through the crowd. Cyro was again explaining his breeding techniques, being careful to omit anything too alien, to a fascinated group of veterinarians. Kalith was enthusiastically demonstrating a soil analysis app to ranchers. We hadn’t used it yet, but Kalith had this grand plan for a garden to try and cultivate Earth-adapted plants from his home world. And Vantor simply maintained his vigilant watch from a position that gave him clear sightlines to every entrance.

They’d given me more than love, more than passion, more than the physical connection that still left me breathless. They’d given me confidence, and the absolute certainty that whatever happened, whatever challenges arose, I would never face them alone.