Page 15 of Live for Me

“They want to monitor our trail cameras for the next few days. Someone should be coming out tomorrow,” Denver explained.

My jaw tightened. “We needed a team out here today,” I bit off. “That’s what I told Chase.”

“According to the district wildlife office, they don’t need to take orders from Chase anymore,” Mags drawled, adjusting his hat.

“What the hell does that mean?” I asked, something stirring in my gut.

“It means Paul Goodman knows something we don’t,” Denver surmised, casting one more look out to the gravel path before looking back at me. Paul Goodman was Forest Ranger Dipshit, the man I wanted Chase to send out here.

“Something is coming,” I said, repeating his words from the other day.

Mag shifted. “So it’s not just me?”

I looked at him, brows furrowing. “What are you talking about?”

His dark eyes flashed, and he looked out to the gravel path, watching the dust settle. “I’ve had a feeling for a while now. Something is off with the sheriff.”

Denver exhaled slowly, a muscle jumping in his cheek. “What do you mean?”

“He was acting strange when Carrie and Grayson’s shit went down.”

Carrie and Grayson were our friends. Grayson, the owner of Red Snake Investigations, served in the Marines with Mags when they were younger. This past winter, Carrie had been abducted and taken down here. She escaped, and by some fucking stroke of twisted fate, she ran for miles in the snow onto Hallow Ranch. Mags found her on one of the trail cameras. Chase came to get Carrie’s statement and was instructed by Red Snake to let the case go colds.

“Strange?” I repeated, shooting a look to Denver.

“He was on edge, boys,” Mags assured. “Something has been eating at him since last Christmas.”

That was true, but we all just assumed it had to do with his personal life. Chase’s father had gotten sick in the fall, but now, I couldn’t help but wonder if something else was going on.

“You think there’s a deal going on under the table?” I asked them, jaw tight.

Denver shook his head. “Chase wouldn’t make a deal with Paul, not knowing the problems we’ve had with him in the past.”

“This isn’t about a deal,” Mags added, his voice brimming with concern. Something in my gut twisted as the words left his mouth. “This is about a shift in power.”

The words settled over us, hanging in the humid evening air. Denver put his hands on his hips and bent his head. “God fucking dammit.”

“We need to call Diana,” I told him. Diana was Hallow Ranch’s lawyer, and she was also the only person, aside from Chase, who could get answers. Mags said nothing and Denver sighed, nodding. “Yeah, I’ll give her a call in the morning. There’s nothing we can to about it now. Thanks for taking care of the sink, man. I appreciate it.”

I wanted to give him shit, but now wasn’t the time. “No problem.” I looked over to Mags, noticing how tense he’d became since I mentioned Diana. Once I returned my attention back to Denver, I lifted my chin, “You got a minute before you head inside for dinner?”

He studied me for a moment as Mags turned away from us, heading down the hill, leaving us without a word.

“Fucker never says bye anymore,” Denver mumbled, shaking his head. “What did you need, Beau?”

I felt my chest getting tighter, and my voice was strained when I said, “Its about Abbie.”

A small wave of surprise washed over the cowboy’s face, his brows spreading apart, relaxing as his gray eyes hardened. “Abbie,” he parroted.

Fuck, I’d thought saying her name out loud would be too much for me to bear, but the real torture was hearing her name come from someone else’s mouth. Someone who knew how much I loved her, how much she gutted me in the end. The lump in my throat was too much, and all I could do was nod as I pulled out the photo, feelings I’d battled to suppress rushing to the surface. I bit down on my jaw to the point of pain, flipping the photo for Denver to see.

His eyes dropped to it, staring at it for a few, long seconds. “What is this, Beau? I know what she looks like.” Before I could get a word in, he continued, “Is she in trouble or something?”

I’d kill anyone who hurt her.

Jesus, Beau. Get it together. I rolled my neck, nostrils flaring. “Denver, I haven’t talked to her in six years, haven’t even seen her in three,” I told him. “I went to grab your tool bag from the laundry room, and this fell down from the shelf.”

His brows furrowed again. “In—inmylaundry room?”

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