In the morning, Ethan slammed shut the trunk of his new vehicle. He had thought about renting one, but instead, he had purchased a 2012 Range Rover from a second-hand dealership. For a long time, he had wanted an SUV and, finally, he had taken the chance.
Thanks to Smurf's contacts, the paperwork wasn't a problem. Within a few hours, he already had legal California plates.
The plan was clear: Ethan would take the highway all the way to New York, carrying both the money and the diamonds. Job, on the other hand, would board a commercial flight that same afternoon to get ahead, prepare the ground, and find the right buyer.
—Are you sure you want to do this? —asked Job, frowning as he lit a cigarette—. If you run into trouble on the road, we lose everything.
Ethan smiled calmly. In the car, he carried more than two million dollars' worth of diamonds and another million in cash. Despite the magnitude of the load, he looked confident.
—Don't worry, I know what I'm doing. If something happens, I'll take the responsibility. You just focus on your part in New York.
Before getting into the car, he patted his partner on the shoulder.
—See you in a couple of days, buddy. Keep your phone on.
Job nodded slowly, his gaze unwavering. A few days earlier, they had said goodbye to the Codys and Smurf; the job was done, and the smartest move was to leave before attracting too much attention.
Two days later
The Range Rover moved steadily along Interstate 10. Ethan was already halfway east. The last few days had been more relaxed than he had imagined: meals in quaint spots, conversations with strangers, quiet nights in hotels.
The first day had been exhausting: from Los Angeles to Las Cruces, New Mexico — nearly seven hundred and fifty miles devoured alone behind the wheel. Luckily, his stamina allowed him to recover with a good dinner and a shower. Now, with just under a thousand miles behind him, he felt fresh again.
In El Paso, he allowed himself a break. Not just to stretch his legs, but also to eat. Browsing online, he had found a legendary spot: Cattleman's Steakhouse, a ranch turned restaurant, famous all over Texas for its cuts of meat and Old West style.
The driveway was long, flanked by endless wooden fences. When he arrived, he was greeted by a sturdy stone-and-wood building, with metal signs and the unmistakable aroma of grilled meat drifting through the air.
He ordered a ribeye, BBQ ribs, and the famous smoked brisket, with baked potatoes and cornbread on the side. The first bite was an explosion of flavor: juicy, with just the right mix of spices. For a moment, the weariness of the trip vanished.
While chewing slowly, he looked out the window. Beyond the parking lot stretched the ranch, with cattle grazing under the reddish light of sunset. Ethan sighed. He could take a breather, though deep down he knew the road always brought surprises.
The engine roared as he left the restaurant behind. The Texan hat still sat on the passenger seat, as if marking the beginning of the next stage of his journey. San Antonio awaited.
Blake Gaines.
The name drew a half-smile from him. They weren't a couple; they never had been. Their relationship had been freer, more physical and messy… more like friends with benefits, although in truth they both knew there was genuine affection underneath it all — Ethan had saved her life more than once.
They hadn't seen each other in months. Now, fate —or maybe pure coincidence— would put them face to face again. Blake had once mentioned she'd be visiting her mother's family ranch in Texas during one of their conversations, and Ethan decided the detour was worth it.
Plans couldn't keep up with the unexpected. Rush hour traffic held them up for nearly half an hour before entering San Antonio. By the time Ethan reached the airport, just a few miles north of downtown, Blake was already waiting for him.
Ethan couldn't help but whistle when he saw her, true to her Texas return, wearing cut-off denim shorts frayed at the edges, showing off long, tanned legs. Her short denim blouse was tied just under her bust, revealing a flat, toned stomach that seemed to glow with every ray of sunlight. A pair of leather boots completed the outfit, giving her a fiery edge.
When she saw him, she smiled sideways and, without hesitation, ran to him. The hug was strong, effusive, filled with the spark that had always been between them. Ethan held her against his chest a few seconds longer than necessary, taking in the warmth of her skin and the soft perfume that enveloped him, before they began kissing passionately, unconcerned about the eyes fixed on them.
When he set her down, she tilted her head slightly, the cowboy hat casting a playful shadow over her blue eyes.
—Howdy, cowgirl… —Ethan said with a half-smile, giving her a once-over—. I can see you really did miss me.
Blake answered with a soft, almost conspiratorial laugh.
—You have no idea. These months at college were torture… and I couldn't stop thinking about you.
Ethan arched a brow, amused.
—And the smart college boys? I bet more than one came after you.
Blake looked him up and down, barely biting her lower lip.
—Not a chance. Compared to you… they're just boys.
He let out a low chuckle.
—Then tell me, cowgirl… what do we do now?
Blake adjusted her hat with a playful gesture.
—First, we're going to Austin. I'm starving, and I want a real dinner.
Ethan nodded, not letting go of her hand.
—Whatever you say, sheriff.
Less than an hour later, Ethan's Range Rover pulled up in front of a restaurant in Austin called Twin Winds.
—You sure this is a restaurant and not a strip club? —he asked, raising a brow.
The place lived up to its name. At the entrance, several waitresses in bikinis and revealing outfits welcomed the customers as if they were beauty queens.
The parking lot was packed to the brim, nearly half of it taken up by motorcycles lined up like soldiers. Ethan had no choice but to park at a nearby shopping center.
—This is like a Texan Hooters, but on steroids —said Blake excitedly, tugging him toward the entrance to buy tickets.
—I know Hooters… but tell me, what's so special today that it's bursting with people? —Ethan asked.
—Because today is the Miss Twin Winds contest. The winners from each branch travel to Arlington for the grand finale, and there's a big cash prize. —Blake pointed at the banners—. When I was a kid, my grandpa brought me here in secret. One day I told my grandma I wanted to be Miss Twin Winds… and she almost killed him, chasing him across the Walker ranch with a shotgun.
Ethan burst out laughing, silently giving a thumbs-up in memory of the father-in-law figure.
Inside, Twin Winds was more of a sports bar than a restaurant: long tables, several bars, LCD screens showing sports everywhere. The menu was limited but hearty: steak cuts, spicy wings, burgers, fries, and ice-cold beer.
The place was packed. Along with bikers in leather vests and arms covered in tattoos, there were also entire families dining with kids, as if the risqué vibe was just another part of Texas folklore.
Ethan and Blake ordered two burgers with fries and two Budweisers. As they toasted, Ethan was surprised to notice that, intimidating as the bikers looked, none were acting out: they spoke loudly, laughed even louder, but didn't smoke or harass the waitresses.
Suddenly, a waitress appeared on the scene.
A tight red checkered blouse, shameless cleavage, and a flirty smile. She set two burgers on the table, leaning in more than necessary, and winked at Ethan as she dropped off the bill.
Blake caught him staring at the waitress in the checkered blouse leaning a little too far over the table. Her lips curled into a dangerous smile.
—My name's Barbie, don't forget it when you vote, honey. —She winked, pointing discreetly to the ballot slip on the tray.
—What are you staring at, cowboy? —Blake snapped, crossing her arms, deliberately pushing up the cleavage of her short blouse.
Ethan cleared his throat, trying to sound innocent.
—I… was just wondering why these bikers are so calm.
Blake raised a brow.
—Uh-huh… sure. Of course it has nothing to do with the "virtues" of that waitress who nearly sat on your lap. You do know mine are bigger, right?
He laughed nervously and raised his hands in surrender.
—I swear, I just didn't think they'd be this quiet.
—Mhm, whatever you say —Blake shot back, taking a long sip of her Budweiser without breaking eye contact—. Just remember, the only cowgirl allowed to distract you here is me.
Ethan leaned closer, with that smile he knew drove her crazy.
—Believe me, Blake… with those shorts and those boots, no one could ever compete with you.
Her cheeks flushed, but she didn't back down.
—You better remember that. Otherwise, someone's sleeping in the stable with the horses.
Ethan chuckled, leaning close enough for his breath to brush against her ear.
—And if I behave… will you let me sleep with you?
Her eyes sparkled, somewhere between jealous and amused.
—We'll see about that…
—This is Texas —Blake explained, leaning toward Ethan—. These local biker gangs aren't like the ones you imagine. They keep their distance from the public, plus they're too old to go looking for trouble… see the average age?
Ethan scanned the crowd. Most had shaved heads, thick beards, and worn vests. Now that Blake pointed it out, he noticed many were already past sixty, and the younger ones were hardly below forty.
—That group over there are the Roughnecks —she went on—. They've got a tough reputation, but they spend more time in hospitals and orphanages giving toys to kids than starting bar fights.
Ethan focused on the logo: a potbellied figure with a hat, knife in one hand and pistol in the other.
—And the others are the Cossacks. A few years back, there was a shootout in Waco between both. Nine dead, eighteen wounded… nearly two hundred arrests. —She lowered her voice—. The police ended up more tangled in it than they were.
—Look who it is! The old man Stephens' granddaughter is back!
The place erupted in cheers. Blake, a little uneasy, stood up to greet them.
—Well… looks like I've got a celebrity sitting with me —Ethan muttered, amused.
Two Budweiser bottles slammed onto their table. An old biker pushed them toward the pair with a crooked smile.
—Welcome back, little one, we're real sorry about your grandparents' passing, but they're in the arms of the Creator now. —He handed them a couple more beers, then looked at Ethan—. You'd better take care of her, boy, or you'll have to answer to us.
Blake sighed and explained quietly:
—Grandpa got along with a lot of them. They might be outlaws, but they've got a strong sense of helping the community.
Meanwhile, the restaurant was descending into chaos with the Miss Twin Winds contest. Shouts, applause, and improvised voting filled the air.
Ethan spun the ballot between his fingers, frowning when he saw a name that didn't fit with the rest.
—Hey, Blake… who's this "Bobby"? —he asked with a crooked smile, raising a brow.
She giggled, leaning toward him.
—That's the chef. The girls thought it'd be funny to put him in the competition too, since he works here.
Ethan shook his head, amused.
—Man, poor guy… competing against tiny shorts and plunging necklines doesn't seem fair.
—Don't be so sure —Blake teased, nudging him with her elbow—. They say he cooks the best ribs in all of Texas… and that wins hearts too.
Ethan grinned, lowering his voice mischievously.
—Maybe… but I can promise you I've only got one cowgirl on my mind tonight.
Blake gave him that mix of jealousy and amusement that always disarmed him.
Caught up in the energy and laughter, Ethan even banged the table along with the others when Chef "Bobby" ended up crowned the winner. Apparently, some thought it was funnier to let the chef win instead of the girls.
But the joy didn't last long: when bikers realized their candidates had lost, members of both sides started shoving each other. The tension rose fast.
Without thinking, Blake jumped onto the table and roared with a firm voice:
—If you want to fight, take it outside! There are kids in here!
Silence fell like a bucket of cold water. The tough bikers looked at each other, aware of the hostile stares from the families—and from Blake herself.
Finally, some were dragged outside, and the fight continued in the parking lot, away from the innocent.
Ethan looked up at her with a half-smile.
—No doubt about it… with you around, even wolves behave.
Blake glanced down at him from the table, still burning with adrenaline.
—And don't forget it, cowboy. That includes you too.
—Next round's on the house! —shouted the restaurant manager, climbing onto a table in a desperate attempt to calm the crowd.
No one cared. The crowd pressed against the windows, cheering for their favorite group as if it were a stadium.
Even Blake, swept up in the frenzy, grabbed Ethan by the arm and dragged him to the door. With a wild yell, she waved her hat in the air:
—To hell with those Cossack bastards! Yee-haw!
The atmosphere grew even more heated than during the beauty contest. Some spectators, blinded by the excitement, ran outside to join the fight.
Ethan, who had never seen anything like it, was astonished.
The brawl, however, didn't last long. As soon as the sirens echoed in the distance, both sides immediately split apart. With bloody noses and torn jackets, they gathered their wounded, mounted their Harleys, and roared down the street until they disappeared.
By the time the police arrived, only curious onlookers remained, whispering among themselves, with a few bloodstains left on the asphalt.
An F-150 truck pulled up in front of the restaurant, its blue and red lights flashing, and from it stepped down an imposing man: a crisp white buttoned-up shirt, a black cowboy hat, and a shining star-shaped badge on his chest. He stood nearly 6'4", strong without being bulky, with that tough-guy air that preferred to hide emotions. His very presence commanded respect.
Blake's eyes widened in surprise and she ran toward him.
—Walker!
The man received her awkwardly, stepping half a pace back at the force of her embrace. Yet his eyes lit up at the sight of her.
—Well, look at you, Blake… you've grown.
Blake introduced him proudly.
—Walker, this is Ethan, my boyfriend. Ethan, this is Cordell Walker. His ranch is right next to ours. He almost adopted me when I was a kid.
Ethan offered his hand, and Walker shook it with a strength that spoke for itself. Though he tried to keep his composure, he couldn't help a certain fascination: the name "Walker" sounded familiar, like an echo from another life.
—Good kid —Walker said, giving him a pat on the arm.
Back inside the restaurant, Walker ordered a beer without ceremony, as if he were at home.
—Your grandpa brought me here and bought me my first beer. I still miss him, you know.
Ethan stayed silent. In these family moments, he felt like a stranger, just a guest.
Blake, as if to cut through the melancholy air, lifted her head.
—You were always his favorite.
—How long will you be staying? —Walker asked.
—Just a couple of days, while I take care of the inheritance paperwork and the ranch.
—If you need anything, don't hesitate to tell me.
—Thanks, Walker —Blake replied—. How are things around here?
Walker rubbed his nose with an uneasy gesture.
—It's chaos. The border's on fire; someone's using migrants as drug mules, and some ranchers are taking justice into their own hands. They asked me to go undercover in a joint operation between the DEA and the Rangers.
Blake's eyes glowed with both affection and concern as she asked:
—And what does Emily think? And the kids—are you really going to leave Stella and August behind?
Ethan stayed silent, measuring every word. There was something about Walker… an air of looming tragedy, as if he carried a destiny that hadn't exploded yet.
He couldn't help but sharpen his ear. Something in those words gave him chills, as though he were brushing against an invisible thread of fate.
—So tell me, where are you staying tonight? —Walker asked, raising a brow.
—We'll find a hotel —Blake answered casually—. Tomorrow we'll head to my grandparents' ranch.
—A hotel? No way —Walker shot back with a disbelieving smile—. My mother would have my hide if she found out I let Melissa Stephens' granddaughter sleep in a hotel here in Texas. —He crossed his arms for a moment, then added—. We've got a cabin at the ranch. It's not fancy, but it's comfortable, and at least you'll rest easy.
Blake opened her mouth to protest, but before she could say anything, Cordell was already stepping out of the bar with his phone in hand.
—I already talked to her —he announced with a satisfied grin—. All set. The cabin's yours tonight.
Ethan, who had stayed quiet until then, turned his face toward Blake, searching for her reaction.
—Our families were always close —Walker said with a shrug—. Take it for what it is: pure Texan hospitality.
As the night went on, after nearly two hours of speeding down the highway, Ethan followed Walker's F-150 down a dirt road. Finally, the lights of a homestead rose in the middle of the fields: the Walker ranch.
It was a big house, traditional in style, a bit old-fashioned in its architecture but impeccably maintained. As if a small welcome had been prepared, a circle of colored lights decorated the entrance, and right at the front door the whole family was waiting, gathered like for an improvised ceremony.
—Aunt Abby, Uncle Bonham! —Blake exclaimed, leaping from the car with a smile, before exchanging cheek kisses with the two kindly-faced elders.
—Welcome home, my little Blake —said Walker's mother, her eyes shining with a special warmth. Her curly blonde hair, now streaked with gray, hadn't stolen the youthfulness of her spirit nor the warmth of her smile.
Bonham, on the other hand, bore the weight of time.
—Stella, Auggie! —Blake went on, hugging the younger ones enthusiastically—. You've grown so much… When I left, you didn't even reach a horse's back.
The most emotional moment came when she melted into an embrace with Emily, a beautiful woman with a serene temperament, whom she clung to with tears in her eyes.
—Emily… I missed you so much.
—And I missed you too, dear —Emily replied, tenderly stroking her back. Noticing Blake's sobs, she laughed softly and changed the subject—. But tell me, aren't you going to introduce me to that handsome man?
Embarrassed, Blake wiped her tears with the back of her hand before introducing Ethan one by one to the family members.
Ethan shook hands respectfully.
—Come on in, before it gets too late! —Walker called out, and soon everyone surrounded the couple to escort them into the villa.