by Claire Adams
“Tif? Oh, yeah. She’s a pretty woman.”
“You should tell her that,” I said.
“Tell me what?” she asked.
“That you’re easy on the eyes,” Michael said with a grin. I shot Colt a look, and he glanced down at his sister, but she seemed unfazed by the compliment.
“Not with this stupid cast on, but if all goes well, I’ll be in a boot before December rolls around.”
“How long will you be in that?” Michael asked her.
“Four weeks, then there’s a bit of physical therapy. I’m hoping to be back out and with the animals before the turn of the year.”
“If you need any help, I could offer my services,” Michael said.
“That’s very kind of you, thanks. With everything that’s happened with Rick, I know that would help us out a great deal.”
Colt rolled his eyes, and I couldn’t help but giggle. She had no idea that Michael was flirting with her, and it was painful to watch her sidestep him without even realizing it.
“Anything for you,” Michael said with a smile.
“Well, I’ll get you a potential schedule, then,” Tif said.
“Tiffany!” I exclaimed.
“What? He offered to help! We could use it with Rick being locked up for pulling all his bullshit.”
“Such a dirty mouth for a pretty woman,” Michael said.
“You just haven’t met women like me yet,” she said.
She was absolutely clueless, and it was becoming physically painful. I was glad when a knock on the door saved us from the painful conversation, but when Colt opened the door and we saw the sheriff, things got serious very quickly.
“May I come in?” he asked.
“Of course. We’re all in the kitchen.”
He sat down with us with a solemn look on his face, and I knew that something else had developed. I felt my chest clench with anxiety, and Colt grabbed my hand underneath the table to try and steady my breathing. I felt the world already spinning beneath my feet, and I wasn’t ready for another hiccup.
I wasn’t prepared for the sheriff to do any more than update us on Rick, then to take credit for his capture.
“Well, Rick confessed to everything,” he said. “But he kept telling me to tell you that he never meant to actually burn anything to the ground or kill any horses. He just wanted to create a small fire that spooked them.”
“Because that’s better, somehow?” Tiffany said.
“He said he meant to just open up the stable and scare the horses into fleeing the smoke from the ignited hay, but the fireworks he used accidentally caught the stalls on fire instead. He had brought a gas can, but had decided he didn’t want to go that far. He left the gas can when he panicked and ran, and that is what burned down your barn, Cheyenne. Bill must have seen something happen and decided to check it out for himself, placing him at the scene of the crime.”
Colt squeezed my hand, and my heart still ached. I had figured that if I had answers, I’d feel better. That if I knew exactly what happened, I could find peace.
But all it did was make me feel sick.
“He also admitted to the spiders and the snake, Colt,” the sheriff said. “He said he was also responsible for a flat tire? I guess I didn’t know about that.”
“I woke up one morning, and Cheyenne’s tire was flat. I changed it and thought it was slashed and not punctured, but we didn’t report it. It was well, you know—better than a charred barn.”
I could hear the anger rising in Colt’s voice, and I squeezed his hand to try and calm him down.
“In his defense, he was trying to make sure no one got hurt. It was just supposed to be about scaring Cheyenne,” the sheriff said.
“I don’t give a shit about how you defend him. What I want to know is why,” Tiffany said.
“Apparently, someone contacted him over the internet and offered him a great deal of money to do all this stuff. He said it was all anonymous, and we did confiscate his laptop just to be sure. When we checked his bank records, we found that he’d been paid by some internet service or whatever. It’s a bit over our heads, so we’ll actually need the big guns to help us out.”
“So, that’s good then, right?” I asked.
“Well, the feds aren’t all that interested in some small town rural drama, so until we can convince them to come help, we’re at another impasse.”
“Are you serious?” I exclaimed.
“Don’t worry, he confessed. He’s still gonna get locked up; we just can’t figure out who paid him to do all this to you,” the sheriff said.
“So the brains behind the operation could just hire someone else?” I felt Colt try to squeeze my hand, but all I did was rip it away from him. I knew there had to be a catch—something this damn town wouldn’t be able to do—and I was absolutely irate.
And I was shocked when Colt wasn’t.
“Cheyenne, it’s over. I promise,” Tiffany said.
“No, it’s not! Can’t you guys see that?” I yelled.
“Rick was the one doing it. Even if he was paid—”
“So the person paying him will just find someone else!”
I felt the tears welling up, and my hands began to shake. It was hard to catch my breath, and when I brought my hand up to my face, everyone saw my arm.
Including the sheriff.
“Cheyenne?” the sheriff asked. “What happened to your arm?”
I threw myself back from the table and stormed off. My head was reeling with the information I had just received, and I could feel myself panicking. I heard Tiffany limping up behind me before she threw her arm around me, and that’s when Colt started in telling of the confrontation I’d had with Bill. I didn’t care anymore if he told the whole world. I was so upset and so angry that this incompetent town couldn’t even wrap up this investigation right that I couldn’t see straight.
We did all the fucking work for them, and the first obstacle they encounter they throw in the towel? What the hell?
By the time Tiffany got me to calm down, the sheriff had left. Colt and Michael were talking quietly in the kitchen, and when we walked back in, they turned around.
“So, the sheriff is officially opening an aggression case against Bill,” Colt said.
“Because we don’t have enough to deal with now as it is,” I said.
“Do you trust me?” Colt asked.
“What?”
“I said, ‘Do you trust me’?”
“Yes. Yes, of course I do,” I said. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“So, when I tell you that Michael and I have this under control, and that you should continue to stay here and keep a low profile, and that your arm has raised enough suspicion in the sheriff to look into some things we’ve given him, you believe me?”
“What did you give him?” I asked.
“Don’t worry yourself with it. Just know that both Michael and I still think Bill is somehow behind this. The pieces—that were only theories before—are starting to fall into place.”
“You’re chasing a drunken theory?” Tiffany asked.
“Better than no theory,” Michael said.
“Trust me,” Colt said. “When we told the sheriff what we knew, he took your arm into consideration, and it got his lazy ass kicked into gear.”
“Must’ve been some intense stuff,” Tiffany said.
“We’ve got this, Cheyenne,” Michael said. “Just do what Colt asks. Stay here, keep a low profile, and let us deal with it.”
And at this point, my nerves were no longer giving me a choice. My breaths were coming in short spurts, and tears were bubbling up again. Colt had to wrap me up in his arms before I felt rooted to the ground again.
To reality again.
To my life again.
“Okay,” I said into his chest, slowing exhaling and trying to calm down. “I trust you.”
“Good. Because I think we’ve almost got it,” Colt said. Then he pressed a kiss to the top of my head and started s
waying with me in the kitchen.
“Tiffany. Care to sit on the porch?” Michael asked.
“Sure! We can talk more about the fundraiser,” she said.
“She’s clueless,” I murmured into Colt’s chest.
“Welcome to my sister,” he said, chuckling. “So brilliant, so oblivious.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
Colt
Michael got a phone call from one of his legal contacts, just after the sheriff left. Apparently, they’d been doing a little more ‘legal digging’ and found additional information that linked incredible shady shell companies to Bill’s sudden infusion of cash. It took a bit of routing and tracing by technological minds that owed Michael favors, but when they faxed over their information, we were astounded by the volume, and even had to refill the paper before we got the entire file that was faxed.
“Holy Jesus,” Michael said.
I stuck it all in two manila envelopes, determined to go to the sheriff, but I had one stop I wanted to make before I took this evidence there. I didn’t want Cheyenne going to sleep tonight with this weight that was stirring up her anxiety, so Michael and I hopped into my car and headed for Bill’s.
“You sure you wanna do this?” Michael asked.
“Remember what you told me at the bar?” I asked.
“I was talking about threatening someone with an actual lawsuit,” he said.
“Well, this will be an actual lawsuit. And I want him to see every inch of it coming. I want Cheyenne to go to bed tonight without a care in the world on her shoulders. She’s been through enough.”
“We all have,” Michael said.
We pulled into Bill’s driveway, and I laid my hand down on my horn. I had riled up all his horses before I hopped out of the running truck, and by the time we got to the porch, he had ripped the door open and was screaming at us. Cheyenne was right—the man looked pretty bad—but it only lit a fire under my ass to drive him into the ground.
“I think we need to talk, Bill,” I said.
“Get the hell off my—”
I shoved him into his home, and that’s when Bill’s tongue started flying.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing? You caught your fucking guy, and you’re still messing with me? This is harassment and I won’t—”
I grabbed his shirt and slammed him into the wall, knocking the wind out of him. Michael put his hand on my shoulder, apparently wanting me to settle down, but I was done with him. He had the nerve to get pissed at us for barging into his home, when he had not only done it to Cheyenne, but had hurt her in the process.
“You’re gonna pay for what you did to Cheyenne if you don’t shut the hell up,” I said.
“What are you gonna do, Smith? Grab my arm and yank me around a little?”
I slammed him into the wall hard, and that’s when Michael pulled me off, then shoved the folders into my chest.
“Keep it together, Colt. Don’t give him a reason to countersue.”
“Countersue?” Bill choked out. “What the hell are you talking about? I could already take you to court for assault as it is!”
Michael laughed in his face before he put his finger in it. When I saw the set of Michael’s jaw and the way Bill cowered underneath that steely gaze, I could only imagine the monster he had been in the courtroom.
I was glad to have him on my side.
“I would destroy you in court, even without the shit in these folders,” Michael said.
“What folders?” Bill asked.
“These,” I said. “You see, Bill, we’ve been doing a little digging, and we’ve found some very interesting things.”
“You’re bluffing,” spat Bill.
“Apparently, you’ve come into a bit of money recently,” Michael said. “Enough to redo your entire farm and pay off your massive credit card debt.”
“And we figured out your shell corporations have some really shady names you definitely don’t wanna punch into Google,” I said.
Bill’s face began to pale, and I could tell he was about to vomit. At that moment, I knew we had him. I was going to be able to rid Cheyenne and the rest of this town of Bill Coates for good, and it lit a fire within my chest.
“If I were you,” I said, “I’d get out of town while I could. Our next stop is the Sheriff’s Department, and from what my lawyer has told me, he wouldn’t be surprised if both the FBI and the DEA rained hell down on your precious little farm.”
I knew I was pushing it by bluffing with the DEA, but I was glad that Michael held his ground with me. I thrust the manila folders at his chest to sell my point, and that’s when it happened. Bill grew pale and collapsed to the ground, and when he resurfaced, he was groveling on his knees.
“I was in so much debt and was about to lose my ranch. I didn’t know what to do,” he said, with tears streaming down his cheeks. “I was contacted by someone named Bob, who was interested in reinvigorating my barn if I just took care of some horses for them, and it wasn’t until they got to me that I realized they were stuffed with drugs.”
I looked over at Michael, who was staring hotly down at Bill. I was shocked and could hardly breathe, but Michael was in full-on lawyer mode. He was soaking in every single word Bill was saying, and I was glad he was there because the moment he said ‘drugs,’ I knew he had officially put Cheyenne in a situation where she could have lost her life without even realizing why.
“Keep going. Let’s hear the rest of it,” Michael said, switching to a voice of calm authority, an almost reassuring presence for Bill.
“There’s a drug ring out of Canada smuggling drug-filled horses over the border. This Bob told me he’d pay off all my debt and provide me with an exorbitant amount of money each month if all I did was take care of these horses until they were picked up. I’d get the horses, I’d take care of them, I’d get them fed and keep them clean, then they’d be picked up, and I’d get paid. I didn’t question anything because I needed the money! I didn’t care much for the horses. I know that sounds awful, but the money is what was driving me.”
“When did you figure out you were helping a drug smuggling ring?” Michael asked.
“When my first horse got sick,” Bill said. “He just collapsed in my barn and had this massively swollen bulb protruding from its stomach, and when it ruptured, plastic bags just started pouring out. It was horrible.”
I felt physically sick to my stomach. Bill was blubbering so hard snot was dripping from his nose, draining onto the floor he was slouched onto. I bent down and picked up the manila folders he’d dropped to the floor, then threw my gaze to Michael who finally looked over and met my eyes.
“So, the horse Cheyenne rescued—”
“Was stuffed with drugs I was responsible for. I hired Rick to set a small fire and let the horses out so I could coax mine into the woods, but the fire blew up out of control, and I watched the drugs go up in smoke.”
“You watched Cheyenne’s livelihood go up in smoke!” I roared. This weak, pathetic man was blubbering at my feet because he’d been caught smuggling drugs using the most beautiful animals this world had to offer, and he was still prioritizing his needs over the havoc he had created and all the lives his had kept in chaos all this time.
“Then fucking Rick got scared and ran off. and I didn’t know how to get the fire under control,” Bill said through his sobs.
“So, your horse died, and you lost the drugs,” Michael said. “Why keep after Cheyenne?”
“Because she was the whole fucking reason I was in trouble! Had that bitch just given me my damn horse in the first place, I would have never gotten into trouble with these men. They’re dangerous criminals; don’t you get it? They’re gonna kill me! They think I gutted that horse and stole the drugs for myself! If it hadn’t have been for your stupid girlfriend, my life wouldn’t be on the line right now.”
I reached down and grabbed Bill’s collar before I threw my fist into his jaw. I heard a crack underneath my knuckles before Bill sta
rted retching onto his hardwood floor, and Michael put his hand on my shoulder again in order to get my attention.
“It’s done,” he said. “I got it all recorded.”
He wiggled his phone in the air, and all I could do was hug him. I threw my arms around Michael in jubilation, while Bill continued to cry on his floor. Then, the reality of the situation hit me.
We had everything we needed for our lazy ass sheriff to put this man away for good.
I took my phone out and dialed the police, requesting to talk to the sheriff immediately. Michael handed me the folders before he peeled Bill off the ground and pinned him to the wall until we heard sirens in the distance. I took Michael’s phone from his pocket and, with all the evidence held tightly in my hand, was standing on the porch when the sheriff pulled up.
Boy, did I have a hell of a story to tell him.
“Colt, long time no see,” he said with a sarcastic smirk on his face. “Doing more of our work, I see.”
“Well, someone’s gotta do it, Sheriff,” I said, not amused by his attitude.
“Whatcha got there?” he asked.
“The truth, along with the evidence to back it up.”
I handed the folders to him, with a little more force than required perhaps, then pressed the ‘play’ button on Michael’s phone. Bill’s voice rang out, blubbering like a baby while he spilled his guts about the entire drug smuggling operation he’d found himself in. The moment the recording reached the part where Bill acknowledged he had continued smuggling after he knew about it, the lawman nodded to his deputy to go inside and arrest the man.
“We’ll take it from here,” the sheriff said.
“You better, otherwise I’ll be calling the FBI myself.”
“That a threat, Smith?” the sheriff asked.
“Nope, just letting you know. Just like I let Bill here know exactly what I’m doing if things don’t pan out the way I know they should.”
We stayed on the porch and watched Bill get hauled off by the deputy. I crossed my arms over my chest and watched while Bill struggled against the deputy, and when the sheriff started to read him his rights, he spat in his face. The sheriff shoved Bill into the car door before he threw him into the back, and it brought me great joy to finally see the lackadaisical sheriff exhibit an appropriate response.
