Free Dillon's Claim by Callie Croix

now was to be bitched at by his younger brother. A younger
brother who was no doubt more than sexually satisfied, while Dillon’s whole
body was rigid with pent-up frustration. He could feel the minutes slipping
past him, the window of opportunity he had with Charissa closing right before
his eyes and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it until this was
taken care of.
    “Jesus Christ, you’re a
stubborn bastard.”
    All his brothers thought he
was a hard-ass, so Deke’s remark didn’t bother him. “Yeah, it’s genetic. Meet
me at the corral in ten.” On horseback they could cover the remaining areas he
hadn’t been able to access in his pickup or with ATVs.
    Dillon had Deke’s horse
saddled and ready by the time his brother got to the corral.
    “You shoulda called me last
night.” Deke shook his head in reprimand as he stalked over.
    Dillon shoved the reins at him
and looked away, ignoring the censure in his brother’s expression. “Ready to do
this?”
    “Hell, yeah.”
    Armed with rifles in case they
ran into any trouble, they began the security sweep and Dillon finally filled
him in on all the details. Including the part when he’d found a bunch of bullet
casings amongst all the empties around the bonfire sites.
    Deke was obviously pissed at
Dillon for not calling him for backup, but he’d just have to get over himself. While
he’d been getting busy with Jessie, Dillon had rounded up the missing longhorns
they kept as a novelty for guests, then fixed the breaks in the fence by
flashlight, knowing all the while drunken trespassers were out there with
loaded weapons. Not that he blamed his brother for being otherwise occupied.
Given the choice, Dillon would much rather have spent the night as deep inside
Charissa as he could possibly get.
    Deke clenched his jaw so tight
Dillon could practically hear his brother’s teeth grinding. He sighed. “Before
you say it, I wasn’t going to call you in the middle of the night over some
punk teenagers,” he muttered.
    Deke glared at him. “Yeah.
Drunk, armed teenagers.” He shook his head.
    Dillon shrugged. “I figured
you and Jessie had already had enough excitement for one night. I had the
situation under control.” His tone was clipped, making it clear the
conversation was over. For once, Deke didn’t make a smart-ass reply, and he was
thankful. He had enough on his mind to deal with.
    They rode the fence line in
silence for a while until Deke finally spoke again. “So. How are things with
you and Charissa?”
    Dillon’s hands bunched around
the reins, and his horse tossed its head in protest at the increased tension on
the bit. Immediately he relaxed his grip. “Fine, I guess.”
    “Oh, that good?”
    Dillon nailed him with a hard
glare. “Leave it alone.”
    “Okay. Sorry, man,” Deke muttered
quietly.
    The sun was climbing steadily overhead,
beating down on them with oppressive force and creating waves of shimmering
heat on the ground. Sweat trickled down Dillon’s spine, over his ribs. He
raised his hat to wipe a forearm across his soaked brow. There was nothing out
here to suggest the teenagers were still around, and there were no more breaks
in any of the fences. The perimeter check was taken care of, but smoothing his
brother’s ruffled feathers wouldn’t be as easy.
    Deke had always had a chip on
his shoulder, but since his career-ending injury during his last tour in
Afghanistan and his subsequent divorce, he’d been like a grizzly bear with a
sore paw once he came back home. It was against company policy for any of them
to get involved with guests, but since Dillon had broken that rule this weekend,
too—he wouldn’t stoop to hypocrisy and call Deke or his other brothers on it.
Dillon was actually glad Jessica had somehow managed to break through his
brother’s gruff exterior.
    “You and Jessica seem to be
pretty intense,” Dillon commented as they headed back toward the corral. He’d
never seen Deke so tangled up over a