Page 68 of Unlocking Melodies

The walk to the interview room felt like one of those dreams where corridors keep stretching endlessly. My hands wanted to shake, but years of board meetings had taught me how to keep them steady.

Though most hostile takeovers didn't involve seeing the man who'd hurt Jimmy sitting there in prison orange, looking altogether too comfortable for someone in his position.

Ramirez's gaze swept over me, recognition sparking with uncomfortable familiarity. “Ah,” he said, a smirk playing at his lips. “The boyfriend from New York.”

My jaw clenched automatically. The casual way he referenced our connection made my skin crawl, but I lifted a hand to stop Jake from stepping forward. I hadn't come here to lose control. I'd come for answers.

“Let's skip the pleasantries,” I said, my voice falling into place like a shield. “You wanted to explain something.”

“Right to business.” Ramirez leaned back, the metal chair creaking beneath him. “Just like they said you would be.”

The “they” caught my attention immediately. “Who hired you?”

“Getting ahead of the story.” His smirk widened slightly. “It started simple enough. Surveillance job. Follow him, track his movements, report his contacts. Good money for easy work.”

I kept my expression neutral, though my heart was racing. “And then?”

“Then the orders changed,” Ramirez said, leaning forward. His orange jumpsuit caught the harsh fluorescent light, making him look sickly. “They wanted him brought in. Not hurt, they said. Just... contained.”

“Why?” I kept my voice steady despite the rage building in my chest.

“His father's debts. Not just gambling - he borrowed from the wrong people in New York.” Ramirez ran a hand through his unkempt hair. “Look, I didn't want to hurt him, okay? Kid was just collateral.”

“Collateral?” The word tasted like ash.

“The Moretti family doesn't exactly send polite collection notices.” Ramirez's eyes darted to Jake, then back to me. “Gary Reed owed them big. When they found out his son was building something valuable here...”

“They saw an opportunity,” I finished, my jaw clenching.

“Jimmy was leverage. Simple as that.” Ramirez shifted uncomfortably. “I tried talking first. Outside The Watering Hole. Just wanted to explain the situation, you know? But he... he panicked.”

“You mean he recognized a threat.”

“He fought back,” Ramirez continued, his tough exterior cracking slightly. “I've been in law enforcement fifteen years. Seen all kinds of fights. But this...” He shook his head. “He didn't fight like someone scared for himself. More like someone protecting everything he'd built here.”

“And now?” I pressed. “Why is Gary really back?”

“Think about it.” Ramirez's smirk returned, but it looked forced. “Man shows up in expensive suits, telling sweet stories about the past? Someone's backing his performance. And it ain't his bookkeeper.”

The implication made my blood run cold. “The Morettis sent him.”

“Got it in one.” Ramirez leaned back. “They want something here in Oakwood Grove. Something worth cleaning up Gary Reed and sending him in as their front man.”

I stood abruptly, my chair scraping against the concrete floor. The sound echoed in the small room like a judgment.

“One more thing,” Ramirez called as I turned to leave. “The night it happened? Jimmy got a warning call. Someone with connections told him they were coming. That's why he ran to the ranch.”

“Why tell me this now?”

“Because I think Gary Reed ain't here for a family reunion.” His voice dropped lower. “And the Morettis don't invest in small-town redemption stories without a reason.”

“That was enlightening,” Jake said once we were back in his office, Dawn closing the door behind us with more force than necessary. The contrast between the interview room's tension and Jake's sun-filled office felt jarring.

“The Moretti family,” Dawn said, perching on Jake's desk. “That's not a name you want showing up in small-town police reports.”

I loosened my tie, the Tom Ford suit suddenly feeling more constraining than protective. “You knew about this connection?”

“Had suspicions.” Jake settled into his chair. “But the Morettis are good at keeping their hands clean. Getting Ramirez to actually confirm it...” He whistled low. “That's something.”

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