Chapter 18

18

Colton

“ T here’s two ways we can go about this,” Mitch says.

We’re three days away from New Year’s Eve, and while the blizzard has stopped, most of our work revolves around keeping security tight on the ranch while shoveling snow into piles along the more traveled routes.

“About what?” I ask. I’ve been so lost in thought regarding Melissa that I may have tuned out of the current conversation.

“About Jake Miller,” Mitch replies.

Ethan snarls. “I could just handle it.”

“We both know that’s not an option,” I tell my twin. “Just as we know you left that version of yourself back in Bosnia.”

“Well, he’s not that far off from what I was going to suggest,” Mitch says, half-smiling as he shovels another pile of snow out of the way. “Option number one is we take this to the sheriff’s office. We exhaust every possible legal channel before anything else. If the Esparza cartel is operating in the region, the sheriff will want to know about it.”

“Kavanaugh might want to know about it, but I doubt he can actually do something about it, especially in the middle of a rabid Nebraskan winter,” Ethan says.

I agree with Mitch. “He needs to know what’s going on in his county.”

“Should the first option fail, however, option two is that we use our resources, our people, our network, and put together a strategy to get those assholes in a RICO bust.”

Ethan gives him a hard look. “You’re giving us solutions for the cartel but not for Jake fucking Miller. He’s going to keep hounding Melissa for that money. I roughed him up a bit, but I doubt it was much of a deterrent, not for his desperate ass.”

“If the cartel falls, they’ll take Jake down with them,” Mitch says.

About fifty yards east of our position, the northern gates of our ranch rise proudly from the snow, their steel pillars glistening under the sharp-toothed sun. The skies are clear, and there’s plenty of sunlight to enjoy, though the snow is a blinding white.

Movement by the gate itself catches my eye, and I zero in on it.

“Fellas,” I say, drawing their attention. I lift my chin in the direction of the gates and say, “Truck.”

Immediately, they follow my gaze. Ethan opens the CCTV app on his phone and pulls up a closer view of the gate. “Motherf…” he mumbles. “It’s him.”

“Ethan, wait,” I manage to say before he bolts to his truck, parked about twenty yards away and closer to the northern gate.

“We can’t let him go off on his own,” Mitch warns.

“No shit,” I shoot back as I run after Ethan.

Before he can turn the key in the ignition, we’re in the truck with him, fully aware there are at least two rifles at our feet, locked and loaded. He’s never unprepared, and I need to make sure he doesn’t go for option number three today, even though he’s clearly itching for it.

“Don’t be stupid,” I tell him.

The truck engine roars to life.

“I’m not stupid. He obviously needs a reminder,” he replies, his voice annoyingly calm.

“Let’s see what he wants,” Mitch suggests. “I’m going to text Sammy and tell him to stay at the house with Melissa or get Kyle or Jason to stay with her. Either way, while this fucker’s prowling around, she shouldn’t be alone.”

“If she knows he came back, she might try to run off again,” I mutter.

I think that’s what the three of us fear the most.

“Ethan, stay calm,” I remind my brother as he pulls up in front of the gate.

Beyond it, Jake Miller stands next to his truck, huddled under a thick brown parka.

We climb out of the truck and walk toward the gate.

“What are you doing here?” I ask.

“We need to talk,” Jake replies with a subtle smile, stealing watchful glances at Ethan. “I would appreciate it if you kept your gorilla at bay, though.”

“You might want to choose your words better,” I warn him. “There’s three of us here.”

“Well, he started it,” Jake replies, nodding at Ethan.

To my brother’s credit, he is remarkably self-restrained. I thought I’d have to wrangle him off this bastard even though my blood is boiling, too.

“You came after and threatened Melissa,” I say. “You’re lucky my brother didn’t do worse. Now, what are you doing here? I thought you were told to keep your distance.”

“You clearly don’t know everything about Melissa, otherwise, you wouldn’t think of me as the bad guy in this picture because I’m not,” Jake says.

“Oh? What are we missing?” Mitch shoots back, sarcasm dripping from his voice.

“She’s not the saint you think she is. First of all, she got caught moving a hell of a lot of drugs and went to prison for it, right?”

“We all know those were your drugs,” I cut in.

“Those weren’t… Ugh, okay, so, here’s the thing,” Jake stutters, realizing we’re not buying whatever he’s so eager to sell us. “I didn’t know the cops would be there that night, okay? She was supposed to take a different route.”

“All I’m hearing is more excuses,” I say.

“She knew exactly what I did for a living!” he snaps. “She knew, and she looked away. And when she agreed to drive that van, she knew what kind of product she was moving.”

“I find that real hard to believe.”

“Just more bullshit,” Mitch scoffs. “We seem to know her better than you, buddy. How long were the two of you together?”

“A year. We shared a home. We shared a life,” Jake insists. “I may not have been specific about what I did for a living, but Melissa was aware. She loved me anyway. She stuck by my side.”

Ethan interjects. “None of us is buying any of this. It just doesn’t track. You got any more bullshit up your sleeve, or are you just about done?”

“Hey, I’m not the bad guy here,” Jake says. “I came to the ranch to warn Melissa.”

“No, you came to tell her she needs to cough up the money you owe the Esparza cartel,” I say. “And now, you’re trying to do what, exactly? Win us over? Lie to us in order to put a wedge between us and Melissa?”

“I’m actually hoping one of you might do the right thing and give her the money,” he replies.

Mitch stifles a chuckle. “And then what?”

“She gives it to me, and I broker a peace agreement between her and the cartel. They’ll listen to me, especially if I have their money.”

“Hold on. Let me see if I’ve got this straight.” I laugh, shaking my head. “You want us to fork over two million dollars in cash. You want us to give that money to Melissa, so Melissa can hand it over to you, so you can get the Esparza cartel off her back. Is that it? You’re the one who’s gonna save her?”

“I was always going to be the one who saves her,” Jake sighs. “I don’t know what your deal is with Melissa, but I love her, and I always will.”

I would no longer blame Ethan if he decided to just blow this bastard’s head off. In fact, I walk back to the truck and take one of his rifles out. Jake immediately freezes, his eyes wide with shock and horror.

“Whoa, what are you doing?” he mumbles, shaking like a leaf.

“I’ve had enough of this,” I say, raising my weapon.

Mitch’s and Ethan’s focus shifts to me. My patience is about to run out, and everything my brothers and I discussed over the past few days is quickly fanning the flames of my anger. There’s nothing I won’t do to keep Melissa safe and here with us.

“Don’t shoot,” Jake says. “I’m only trying to save her.”

“No, you’re trying to profit from an ugly situation you created,” I say. “The way I see it is you have two choices, and only two. You either get back in your truck and leave the state of Nebraska altogether, or I will pump you full of lead and thus remove one problem from Melissa’s life.”

Jake stills, narrowing his eyes at me. “You’re fucking her.”

“Careful,” I warn, pointing the rifle at his head. “I’ve got an itchy trigger finger.”

“Alright, alright!” Jake scoffs. “I’ll leave. For now. But you have to talk to her. You have to help her. The Esparza cartel is not known for their patience or their mercy. They’ll want to make an example out of Melissa if she doesn’t pay them back for the cocaine she lost.”

“Jake, they’ll make an example out of her even if she does pay them back,” I reply. “Now get the fuck out of here before I do what my brothers really want me to do.”

“Just think about it,” he says, then carefully backs away and gets back into his truck.

Ethan, Mitch, and I watch as he fumbles with the keys until he manages to get the engine rolling. He drives away, wheels slipping along the battered snowy road.

“He’s not as slick as he thinks he is,” Ethan concludes.

“Nope, but he is desperate. And there’s nothing more dangerous than a cornered animal,” I remind him, then look at Mitch. “Let’s try option number one first.”

I leave Darla and Sammy with Melissa at the house, though we don’t share the details of our encounter with Jake. Mitch and Ethan get Kyle and Jason to help them with what’s left of today’s snow shoveling duties, while I drive into Long Pine.

Jake Miller’s return is a bad omen, a sign of worse to come. Despair can make men crazy, and if Ethan’s physical aggression didn’t teach him a lesson, nothing short of death at our hands will. In order to avoid unnecessary bloodshed, however, I need to talk to Sheriff Kavanaugh.

I find the sheriff in his office, comfortable in his chair and nursing a mug of black, unsweetened coffee, frowning as he checks the news reports. His bullpen is almost empty, except for his secretary, Rhonda, who types away at her computer.

“Hey, there, Colt,” Kavanaugh says as soon as I walk in. He doesn’t set the coffee down, nor does he sit up straight in his chair. In fact, he doesn’t move a muscle as I take a seat in the guest chair across from his desk. “What brings you around? The neighbors givin’ you grief?”

“No, sir, everything’s good in that sense,” I reply, nodding at the many empty desks behind me. The phones ring, but every call is routed to Rhonda’s desk. She answers each call with a nasal voice, asking people to stay calm and let the authorities do their jobs. “You’re a little undermanned here, I see.”

“Well, yeah,” Kavanaugh sighs. “All my deputies are out on the road. You’d think the good folks of Long Pine would know to stay indoors after a blizzard like the one we just had.”

“They’re getting trapped in the snow, huh?”

He nods once. “Like flies on glue paper, I swear.”

“People are going to do stupid shit no matter what you tell them. Hell, it keeps you and your deputies from getting bored.”

He chuckles. “I’m glad you’ve got your trucks and your snow equipment. I never had to worry about the Avery boys in that sense,” Kavanaugh says. “What brings you out here, Colt? Thought you boys would be busy shoveling your ranch roads.”

“We’re doing that, but I needed to talk to you about something else.”

“Okay. How can I help?”

“I got a bit of a situation, and I was hoping you might be able to provide me with some information. Off the record, for now,” I say.

Kavanaugh sits up. I’ve got his full attention. He takes another sip of coffee and sets the mug down, his gaze fixed on mine. “What’s going on?”

“You know we’re working with Ridgeboro prison, right? The whole Path to Freedom Initiative, the woman we’ve got working in our kitchen.”

“Yeah, yeah, Melissa Carson. I’ve got her file here somewhere. Did she do something?”

“No, sir, she’s been a saint. But her past is catching up with her, and I’m hoping I might be able to get ahead of it.”

He frowns, his silvery brows furrow above his grey eyes. “Why don’t you just send her back to Ridgeboro and get another inmate who won’t bring trouble to your doorstep? I’m sure you have options.”

The mere thought makes my stomach churn.

“No, sir. Melissa is a great woman, and frankly, I think she was wrongfully convicted,” I say, shaking my head slowly. “It’s one of the things I’m eager to look into, actually, but before that… I’ve just gotten word that we might have some people from the Esparza cartel hanging out around Long Pine.”

“Jesus Christ. What can you tell me about them?”

“They’re a Colombian cartel active across Nebraska. The drugs the cops seized from Melissa’s van belonged to them.” I frown. “Well, not her van, her boyfriend’s.”

“Didn’t he testify against her?”

“He was the one moving drugs for the cartel,” I tell Kavanaugh, but he gives me a sour smile.

“Careful with assumptions, Colt.”

“Sheriff, my issue isn’t with Melissa’s innocence right now. I’m trying to paint the whole picture for you,” I insist.

“Go on.”

“They’re ruthless and bloodthirsty bastards, and they might be coming after Melissa,” I tell him. “So I need as much information about them as you can possibly provide me with as a civilian.”

“As a civilian,” Kavanaugh asks, “or as a former Ranger?”

“I’d prefer the latter if you’d extend me such a courtesy.”

“Let’s see…”

He pauses and logs into his computer. I watch his chubby fingers dance across the old keyboard, clacking until he inputs a few words into the database. His eyes scan the screened results, then his hand takes over the wireless mouse and prints a handful of documents.

“All yours,” he says.

I retrieve the printed paper and glance at it. “This isn’t enough,” I tell him. “I could get this from a search engine, Sheriff, or the newspapers. I need details about their lieutenants, about their recent movements, their modus operandi. I need to know what we’re dealing with.”

“Colton, I’m getting the feeling the girl would be safer back at Ridgeboro, and you would be, too.”

“That is not an option,” I say sharply. “Sheriff, we’ve done this office a whole lot of favors over the years. I’m not the type to call them in, but I guess I have to. I need real, accurate, and recent intel on these people and on Jake Miller.”

“Jake Miller.”

“Melissa’s ex.”

“Dang it, Colt, what have you gotten yourself into, boy?”

“Nothing I can’t handle provided I have accurate information,” I reply with a cool grin. “Come on, Sheriff. Do me this solid. I just want to know who I’m dealing with. I came to you for help. You know I’ve got former Rangers up at the DEA as well. But I came to you first because I respect you.”

And because calling in a favor with the DEA might end up with that agency telling us to back off because they’ve already got who knows how many RICO investigations open for the Esparza cartel. They might make matters worse, in fact. If the cartel senses the DEA breathing down their necks, they could accelerate whatever it is they’re looking to do to Melissa.

I’m in love with this woman, and I intend to keep her safe.

Kavanaugh gives it a second thought, then takes a deep breath while his mouse clicks through a series of folders and links on his computer screen. “Alright. I don’t have much in here, just what the Feds shared with us the last time they put a BOLO out on one of the cartel’s people in the area.”

“When was that?”

“Less than two months ago.”

“Around the time Melissa came to us,” I conclude. “Whatever you have, please, Sheriff.”

“It’s for your eyes only,” he warns.

I offer a reassuring nod. “Yes, sir.”

Five minutes later, I’m flipping through several pages with photocopies of criminal records and state trooper’s notes on the margins, as well as a few interdepartmental memos from one of the higher-ups in the DEA.

My blood runs cold as a picture comes into focus.

“They’re active in this district,” I say to Kavanaugh.

“Not dealing. Not that we know of anyway,” he says. “My boys would’ve picked something up by now, but nothing has happened. Those are just movements. Lease agreements. CCTV footage of suspected lieutenants at various locations across Long Pine and the neighboring towns. I’ll admit, it’s odd, but it’s not enough for us to open an investigation of our own.”

“Do you have eyes on these people?”

He shakes his head. “So far, we haven’t been able to identify anyone except that guy.”

“This guy?” I ask, showing him the mugshot of a black-haired man with a bushy mustache and several face tattoos. “Yeah, I suppose he sticks out like a sore thumb in these parts.”

“Luis Menendez,” Kavanaugh says, “a suspected lieutenant of the cartel. Supposedly answers directly to Ramon Esparza, the cartel jefe. But he’s keeping his nose clean. Renting an apartment in town. I checked with the IRS as well. The rental agreement is legit and fully declared. The man has a salary coming in from a small company from Ainsworth for consultancy services.”

So he was holding back on me.

“I reckon the company will come up clean as well if you dig deeper,” I mutter.

“Probably, yeah. Whatever they’re doing here, it’s legal,” Kavanaugh replies. “Doesn’t mean I have to like it, but unless I put a tail on that guy...”

“Can you?”

He leans forward and gives me a hard look. “My constituents will grill my ass when they find out I’m using department resources to chase down one of your hunches. That Menendez fella is clean. He checks in with his parole officer once a week. I have absolutely no reason to put a tail on him and not enough manpower to do it with having to rescue half the damn county from the ditches.”

“I’ll look into it,” I tell him. “Discretely, of course. Just for my peace of mind. But if you get any more information about these people, will you let me know?”

“Stay out of trouble, Colt. I’m warning you.”

“I’ll do my best.”

I can’t guarantee it, but I give the sheriff the reassurance he clearly needs at this point. We all require peace of mind in one form or another. This is his. And the information in my hands is mine. I now know more now than I did five minutes ago.

Trouble is, there’s no mention of Jake Miller anywhere in these documents.

The bastard is particularly good at hiding his tracks.