A Powerless World | Book 3 | Defend The Homestead Hunt, Jack (read my book TXT) 📖

Ryland pushed aside the drapes to see if she was here yet. Nope. Outside, ambient floodlights lit up his property, a wrought-iron gate secured his land, and a curtain of redwoods framed the small legal grow inside a greenhouse. Of course, it was all smoke and mirrors. He had to make the county believe he was a law-abiding citizen. They wouldn’t buy that a Strickland had stopped growing altogether, so he and Hank ran a few small legal farms to appease the powers that be while the real moneymakers were deep in the hills, hidden away from their prying eyes.

His cabin was modest like his lifestyle. It had to be that way. Anything more and it would raise questions, bring trouble, and they already had enough of that.

No, those days were behind him.

Divorced twice, with one daughter and two sons, he had given up on relationships and chosen to live out the remainder of his years as a bachelor tending to fields of bud, enjoying the rugged coastline, and maybe, if fate would have it, dipping his toe into Martha Riker’s waters. She was an attractive woman. Confident. Sure of herself. There was something very magnetic about her.

Since the unfortunate happening ten years ago, they had agreed to meet each other in the middle and find a common ground where both Stricklands and Rikers could live in peace.

It had worked.

Each year they would meet for a parley, a time when the two families would discuss issues and concerns, and renew the agreement. After starting as a large meeting where many came together for their own protection, it had eventually dwindled to just two. It had become second nature. Safe. They would laugh together, drink and celebrate each other’s success in the black market.

He’d come to look forward to that meal.

Ryland was stabbing the sizzling steaks with a fork to make sure they were ready when there was a knock at the door. “Come in, Martha,” he yelled over his shoulder as the meat darkened in the pan in front of him and he sliced a chunk to taste.

Martha entered, sniffing the air. She removed her coat and hung it up on a rack near the door. That evening she was wearing that low black number that offered a generous view of her plump breasts. He had to purposely look away to prevent himself from feasting upon her curves as she sauntered into the kitchen, getting close.

She leaned over, sweeping back her long hair. “Steak and onions?”

“Yes, I hope you don’t mind.”

“Not at all. Smells delicious.”

He thought the same about her. That exquisite perfume made him want to bite lumps out of her. He’d often thought how lucky Bruce was. He slung a dishcloth over his shoulder as he checked on the roast potatoes in the oven.

“I like what you have done with this place.”

“Ah, thanks. Decided to add on the sunroom last summer. Gives me a place to take in the rays and…”

“Keep an eye on those trimming your crops?”

He smiled. Great minds thought alike. There was little that got past that woman. In all the years they’d known one another, she’d always presented herself as the decision-maker even though she said she would discuss matters with Bruce. “Exactly.”

“So how’s it been this year? They are clamping down on the growers,” she said.

“The legal crop keeps the wolves away from the door. You?”

“Likewise, though we haven’t seen much of Humboldt’s finest up our way as of late.”

He stabbed the fork in the air. “That would be because of the new element.”

“I’ve heard. Transients dealing in hard drugs, hustlers looking to make a quick buck. Well, I’m sure they won’t last.”

“I wouldn’t underestimate them, Martha,” he said. He removed the potatoes and burned himself on the pan before dropping it on the countertop. “Damn, that’s hot.”

“What do you mean?”

He glanced at her. “They’re not like others we’ve faced. We’ve had plenty of crops stolen.” He was referring to the illegal ones.

“That wasn’t us.”

“I didn’t say it was. We caught them. Roughed them up. Figured they would learn their lesson and leave town like others before. Not these guys. They showed up at one of our farms, and wrecked the place, shot and killed Nile Kendall, took out four of our security, and then took off. We got it all on camera.” He took the open bottle of red wine from the table and poured some in a glass and gave it to her.

Martha scooped it up. “Thanks. And so you handled it?”

“We did.” He clinked his glass against hers. “To another year.”

She cocked her head and smiled. “Another year.”

He gulped a mouthful and set it down so he could serve up the meal. “However, it wasn’t easy. On hard drugs, these idiots have no fear. I think it’s PCP. They’ve learned to use the hills to their advantage, like the way we used to elude the cops. Remember that.”

“I do. Sounds like you have your hands full.”

She returned to the table and took a seat.

“I’m surprised you haven’t encountered them.”

“Ah, they know better than to come our way.”

“Do they? Please tell me they don’t work for you.”

Martha laughed. “Oh come now, Ryland. Do you honestly think we would send boys to handle a man’s job? You know by now we don’t back down easily.”

“I know, that’s what’s so puzzling about this.” He took a seat and adjusted his cutlery in front of him. “Anyway, let’s move on. We should discuss pressing issues. Would you like to begin?”

“Let’s eat first, shall we?” Martha replied. He poured more wine and they tucked into the meal. They kept the conversation general. Touching on what kind of profits they had seen in the black market. Changes. Threats from undercover police. New blood in the area trying to capitalize on their world. Although the two families were competitors, there was enough money out there for both of them to prosper, as their clients came from all over the nation. Many were repeat buyers, top