Redeemed By The Cowgirl. Silver James

      Cash Barron was a man who understood duty—especially to his family. Unlike his brothers. Staring out the window of his twin’s apartment on the fiftieth floor of Barron Crown Hotel and Casino in Las Vegas, he did his best to stuff his anger into a corner of his mind. He’d watched his three older brothers turn their backs and walk away from the very thing that made them Barrons—their loyalty to one another. Even his twin, Chase, had chosen a woman so completely unsuitable that Cash could barely comprehend their marriage. And now Chase and Savannah were about to celebrate the first anniversary of their quickie Vegas wedding.

      A sharp rap on the door jerked his attention from the vista outside the window. Bridger Tate, his cousin and second-in-command, entered without invitation. He didn’t like the look on the man’s face.

      “What?”

      “Last night’s video from the casino floor has been analyzed.”

      A series of curse words ricocheted through his brain but he refrained from speaking them. “Is it them?”

      Bridge looked angry but resigned. “Yeah. Tucker isolated images of the Rowland clan on the casino floor.”

      Tucker Tate was Bridger’s brother and vice president of Barron Entertainment, the media and hotel conglomerate that was Chase’s domain. They’d been dealing with a security problem at the casino for almost a year. As president of Barron Security Services, all problems—from the security detail for his brother Senator Clay Barron to the theft of oilfield pipe from a Barron Energy drilling site—landed on his desk. The occasional missing cow from the ranch, the odd employee embezzlement, the more frequent crackpot sending threatening emails—these bucks all stopped with him. It was his job to protect his family, even from themselves.

      “Cash?”

      Glancing up, he realized he’d tuned out Bridger’s play-by-play. “Sorry. What were you saying?”

      “Tuck did a good job isolating the Rowlands.”

      “Are they all present and accounted for?”

      “Yup. Max, Alex and Ajax, Braxton, Dexter. The king of cons and his larcenous princes. I had IT highlight their positions in each of the videos.”

      Cash huffed out a breath that was a thinly disguised sigh. He strode to Chase’s in-home office, settled heavily at the desk and called up the info on the giant monitor. He leaned back, eyes tracking the glowing orbs highlighting faces on the screen.

      Bridger settled a hip on the corner of the desk and twisted his head to see the monitor. “I have our IT team checking footage from Scottsdale, Nashville, Miami and New Orleans.”

      “What’s their objective?”

      “Who knows? Seems they really like Barron properties, though.”

      “Jolly.”

      “Yeah, figured that would please you.”

      “Are we the marks or is it a guest?”

      “Probably both.”

      Cash closed his eyes and rubbed the back of his neck. Could it get any more complicated?

      * * *

      Roxanne Rowland lined her lips with red pencil before adding bright red gloss. The woman in the mirror staring back at her was a stranger. Dragging fingers through her red hair, she fluffed the waves, startled anew by the bright color tipping her nails. She wasn’t used to the manicure, either. Dark, smoky shadows fringed her eyes, making them sparkle like amber. She refused to wear the tinted contacts sitting in a case on the counter.

      Smoothing down the borrowed body-hugging black dress, she opened the bathroom door and collided with her older brother. His fingers gripped her biceps none too gently. “Time to go, Rox.” He studied her a moment. “You didn’t wear the contacts.”

      She winced at the accusatory tone in his voice. “They hurt and make my eyes water. I had to redo my makeup three times before I gave up.”

      He squeezed her arm as he strode away, pulling her along. She wobbled on the stiletto heels and teetered for a moment as she scrambled to find her balance. The high heels were as foreign to her as the rest of her getup. She wore jeans and boots. Not haute couture. Especially not a dress that cost close to a month’s salary—a dress she’d been told to tuck the tag inside and not to get dirty. That meant it would be returned to the store for a credit.

      “What’s going on, Dex?”

      “You don’t need to know, little sister.”

      “Yes, I do.”

      “Max is working.”

      Maximilian Rowland—her father and sire of her four older brothers, Lex, Jax, Brax and Dex—whom they never called “Dad.”

      “That doesn’t explain why I’m here. I don’t work with him.”

      “You do now.” His voice remained implacable as he ushered her out of the hotel room. “This is big, Rox, and you’ll do your duty to the family. Or else.”

      Or else? What did that mean? Dex didn’t enlighten her as they rode down in the elevator. When he’d picked her up at Las Vegas’s McCarran International Airport, all he’d said was that their father needed her help, and it was time to take her place in the family.

      “Stop fidgeting.”

      “I can’t help it.”

      Dex cut his eyes in her direction and smirked. “What’s wrong, your feet hurt?”

      “As a matter of fact.” Her feet didn’t just hurt, they ached like someone was shoving cold needles into her toes and hammering her arches with rusty nails. “You try wearing these shoes for five minutes.”

      “I’m a guy. I don’t wear heels.”

      “So?”

      “So, you’re a girl. You do.”

      “No, I don’t. I—” She didn’t get to finish her argument. The elevator doors opened and Dex grabbed her arm, jerking her out into a swirl of color and noise. He guided her into a corner, his gaze fixed on the ceiling.

      “Stand here until one of us comes to get you.”

      “What? No—”

      “Shut up, Roxie. Do as you’re told.”

      “You are not the boss of me, Dexter.”

      “Tonight I am. Shut up and listen. There’s a man at the blackjack table. He has a propensity for redheads. Tall, curvy redheads.” He flicked the strap of her dress so it sagged off the curve of her shoulder. “When the time comes, you will sashay that sweet ass of yours to Max. You will ignore Max but you will make nice to the man next to him. Understood?

      “No.”

      “Tough. Just do as you’re told. You flirt. You distract. And you get him to take you up to his room. You get him naked and we’ll do the rest.”

      “Now you wait just a minute, Dexter Row—”

      He pushed her back into the corner, eyes hard. “You’ve had it easy all your life, baby girl. Time to pay up. We told Max he screwed up sending you off to those snooty schools instead of teaching you what you needed to know about the business. That ends tonight. Starting now, you’ll do your duty to this family.”

      Dex draped a heavy necklace around her throat. Colored diamonds and old gold. He bent to her ear. “There’s more where this came from—all hidden where you won’t find the evidence, but the cops will. You try to walk away or turn us in? They’ll know just how deeply involved you are.”

      “That’s blackmail.” Her voice remained remarkably steady despite the fear zinging through her.

      “Welcome to the family, little sister.”

      With