TRACEY HAD BEEN a nervous wreck all day, vacillating between being brokenhearted for Diesel and upset that he’d thought sending a text and taking off without any explanation was okay. As the cab pulled into Redemption Ranch, she felt like she might throw up. If Diesel wasn’t there, she’d have no idea where to look. She didn’t even know where he stayed when he was in Hope Valley. What if her mother was right, and he didn’t want to be found? What if he’d discovered everyone had lied to him? A heaviness settled in her chest.

Scratch the part about her mother.

If everyone had lied to Diesel, she knew he wouldn’t want to be found, and that reality was suffocating. She rolled down the window, and the cool Colorado air whisked in. Thank goodness she’d worn a sweater. She’d been barely thinking when she’d gotten dressed.

“Where to, ma’am?” the driver asked, pulling her from her thoughts.

She had no idea where to look for him. “Is there a main office or something?”

“There’s a main house, but it’s Saturday evening. I’m not sure if it’s open.”

“That’s okay. Let’s start there.” As they drove down farther onto the ranch, she gazed out the windows at horses in the pastures and mountains in the distance, remembering the views from the Whiskeys’ old cabin by the creek. No wonder it reminded Diesel of home.

The car slowed to a stop, drawing her attention to the motorcycle doing a wheelie and barreling toward them. The cabdriver pulled onto the shoulder, giving the motorcyclist the road, but about thirty feet away, the driver lowered the front wheel and waved. He pulled up beside the car and took off his helmet, revealing a handsome dark-haired, bearded man with piercings in his ears, septum, and nostril and tattoos snaking down his arms. He eyed Tracey through the open window and cocked a brow. “Hey there, beautiful. Lookin’ for me?”

“Um…Not unless you’re Tiny.”

He scoffed. “There ain’t nothing tiny about me, darlin’.”

“I didn’t mean that.”

He laughed. “I figured that much. What’s a pretty girl like you want with my old man?”

Relieved she’d found someone who knew Diesel so quickly, she got out of the car, not wanting the driver to hear what she had to say.

The shameless flirt on the motorcycle whistled.

She ignored that. “You’re Tiny’s son?”

“Dare Whiskey at your service.” A slow grin curved his lips. “And I do service well.”

“I’m sure you do, but I don’t need servicing. I’m Tracey, and I’m looking for Diesel Black. Have you seen him?”

“Oh shit. You’re Diesel’s old lady? Sorry about that, princess.”