Page 4 of The Undercover Cowboy

“Can’t you override him?”

“Not without raising suspicion.”

“I need to be on the roster so I can be at the rodeo and look around.”

“I know that. And you know that. Just try to stay on the bull.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he bitched. Like it was that easy. “I’ll do my best.”

“I’ll call you tonight. Good luck.”

He was going to need it. While a part of him would be relieved not to get on a bull again, the part of him that needed to be behind the scenes at the rodeo chafed at the ultimatum. Nash owed Shelby for everything she had sacrificed for him so that he could escape their nightmare of a home and live his dream as an FBI agent…until the shit hit the fan and his career tanked. He needed to catch Blevins because it was Nash’s turn to be there for his sister.

Three years ago, Nash had been a rising star in the bureau, making a name for himself with a string of high-profile arrests and convictions. But it only took one asshole who thought he was above the law—and who was connected enough to get away with it—and suddenly, Nash found himself benched while they investigated his claims.

His partner, Special Agent Miles Garrett, had been regularly accessing classified databases for personal reasons. Instead of using this information for official investigations, he had been discreetly checking up on friends, family, and acquaintances.

“It’s not a big deal,” Miles had said. “Everyone does it.”

Nash first noticed it during a routine cybersecurity training session. The bureau emphasized the importance of maintaining the integrity of classified databases, and agents were trained to use these resources judiciously for official investigations.

At first, he assumed Miles was working on a sanctioned project without him, and that was okay. But then it kept happening and Miles’s actions went beyond what would be considered routine background checks for professional reasons.

Nash might have let it go, even though it killed him to look away. But then Miles acted on the information in two very different situations. The first was to help out Miles’s sister-in-law who had been accused of being involved in a cybercrime ring. She was innocent. But that wasn’t the point. Miles found a flaw in the evidence and tipped off her lawyer about the potential legal loophole and basically orchestrated a behind-the-scenes maneuver that led to the charges being dropped.

Nash reported that up the chain.

Miles got a slap on the wrist and Nash was told to let it drop. Justice had been served.

“No one was hurt by Miles’s actions,” his boss had said.

Things got very chilly between him and his partner after that. The whispers also started around that time. He would find packages of gummy rats in his desk and catnip mice in his car. Very funny. Very mature. You would think that government agents were beyond that sort of thing.

You’d be wrong.

And naturally, Miles didn’t stop using bureau resources for personal use. The next time, Miles claimed he was helping out a childhood friend who was going through a nasty divorce. He gathered intelligence on the husband’s financial dealings and potential misconduct. It was nothing the bureau was involved in, but from a quick look at the evidence, Nash could tell that the husband was using business funds for escorts. Needless to say, Miles’s friend’s lawyer had a field day with that one.

Nash reported that up the chain too.

This time Miles was suspended without pay while the bureau looked into his activities. Nash had taken no pleasure in doing it. He just wanted to do the right thing. Nothing official happened, but Nash’s assignments soon started to revolve around sitting at his desk and doing busy work. Miles requested a transfer and received it.

The higher-ups didn’t seem too eager to get Nash back on the field or assign him a new partner. And then a friend had pulled him aside and advised him to take an early retirement. Otherwise, he was destined for every crap assignment coming down the pike. The term “whistle-blower” was apparently synonymous with “traitor” in certain areas.

Enraged that he was the one being punished when all he did was report what he saw, Nash had been disillusioned enough to cash out and get his private investigator license. Business had been slow, so when Shelby had told him her concerns, he had the opportunity to help his sister out by posing as a bull rider and infiltrating the UPRC to see what dirt he could dig up on her partner.

There was only one problem—Nash absolutely sucked at bull riding. His hands were calloused from gripping bull ropes and his body was battered from countless spills in the dirt. And he didn’t even want to go into the damage his pride had taken in the past year. The last time he had ridden a bull had been in college. His body had changed a lot since then. He also didn’t remember the ground being as hard in those days.

“Nash,” Shelby had begged him. “I need you. I’ve sunk every last dime I have into this merger and Jackson Blevins is just pissing it away.”

“There’s nothing illegal about that,” Nash had said.

“Yeah, but I’ve been hearing rumors about deals he’s made, and I’m afraid of him.”

That was all it took. No one was allowed to scare his sister. Not after Shelby had been a mother to him when their own was in jail, and then stood toe-to-toe with her after she found religion and wanted back into their lives. Shelby had negotiated with her to sign off on Nash’s early entrance to college—out of state and out of that toxic environment.

After a year of being on the rodeo circuit, Nash had finally found out enough to validate Shelby’s fears. Blevins was doing deals without consulting her, taking risks that the board had not only never approved of, but had never discussed, and he was doing it like a man who didn’t care if he was burning bridges. But there wasn’t anything solid they could pin on Blevins yet that pointed to him doing anything illegal.

The key word wasyet.

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