Page 47 of Christmas with Three Cowboys

“You didn’t have a choice but to lie about me in a court of law?” I shoot back. “It’s perjury in case you didn’t know.”

“It’s in the past either way. I can’t change any of it. I’m sorry for that, too.”

“Oh, good, you’re sorry. All is well and right with the world again. Whoop-dee-doo.”

“All isn’t well and right with the world because the cartel knows you’re out.”

Again, I find myself dumbfounded and staring at him, unable to keep up with what’s coming out of his mouth. “The cartel?”

“Those drugs you were moving—”

“The drugs I was unknowingly moving foryou.”

“Yeah, they belonged to the Esparza cartel,” Jake says, “Colombians who’ve spent the past decade setting up quite the market out here in Nebraska. You don’t want to mess with them. They’re bad, Melissa. Really bad.”

“Not my fucking problem. I’m still serving my sentence.”

Jake smiles. Part of him is enjoying this. He’s trying to be apologetic, but the true side of him is slowly but surely rearing its ugly head as he speaks. “Melissa, those drugs were worth about two million dollars. The cartel wants their money.”

“Oh, my God,” I gasp, finally realizing what he’s saying. “You didn’t just pin this on me with the law. You sold me out to the cartel, too. You fucking bastard!”

I take a few deep breaths to regain my self-control as Jake keeps talking. I can feel a panic attack coming, and I certainly can’t afford to be in any way impaired or vulnerable in his presence. The more I hear, however, the deeper I sink into despair, making it harder and harder for me to breathe.

“Oh, Jesus,” I mumble, holding on to the edge of the Nativity side table to stop myself from crumbling to the floor.

“They were going to kill me,” Jake says. “I had to tell them something that night. It’s how I got the idea to testify against you, in fact. And I know it sounds awful. I get it, but I didn’t have a choice. The Esparza cartel… Melissa, they slit throats and hang the bodies out for everyone to see in order to send a message. I didn’t want to end up with a Colombian necktie over a goddamn mistake.”

“A mistake?”

“You weren’t supposed to take that route. I specifically told you, remember? Take Maverick Avenue. Stay away from Circle Street. And you went right down Circle Street… there were cops there, screening traffic for a van.”

“They were tipped off,” I say, remembering my crappy defense attorney’s notes during our prep sessions prior to the trial. “They were tipped off aboutyourvan.”

“Well, I made enemies in that business,” Jake says and sighs. “It was only a matter of time before they got the cops involved just to mess with my operation.”

“Why did you ask me to move the van for you?” I ask.

Jake shakes his head. “Believe me when I tell you that none of that matters anymore unless we find a solution.”

“Unlesswefind a solution?”

“Your ass is on the line, too,” he says.

“My ass belongs to Ridgeboro Correctional Facility for the next two years,” I reply harshly.

“Melissa, the Esparza cartel wants their drugs back. Or two million, cash,” Jake sighs again. “I tried to get my hands on the stuff, but the cops have it. They put it in evidence, and it will be destroyed sometime this year, which leaves us both short by about two million bucks to stay alive.”

“Jake, you’ve lost your damned mind. This isyourresponsibility.”

“They think you were stealing the drugs from me that night.”

My stomach drops. All I can do is lean back against the wall, my vision gradually losing focus.

“They… oh, God,” I mumble, tears pricking my eyes.

“I know, I know…”

“You know,” I repeat his senseless words, wishing I had some strength left to beat him bloody because that’s what he deserves. “I finally had some peace. I was okay with going through the rest of my sentence… and then you… you show up—”

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