Page 88 of Live for Me

“My girl,” he cooed, grabbing my hands again. “Look at me.”

It was difficult, but when I finally managed to meet his gaze, all I’d found was warmth—understanding. “Love is a puzzle, darlin’. It takes time to put all the pieces together,” he murmured.

Love.

I bit down on my tongue. “Don’t,” I begged, my voice thick. “I-I just came here for a story, Bart. That’s all.”

His warm smile slowly faded, sadness quickly replacing it. “You need to talk to your cowboy before I can give you anything else, Abbie.”

I shook my head and pulled my hands from his. “This isn’t about love, Bart. This is about—”

“—Abbie, you dig any deeper, you’ll end up digging a grave,” he cut me off, leaning forward. “Talk. To. Your. Cowboy.”

You dig any deeper, you’ll end up digging a grave.

You dig any deeper, you’ll end up digging a grave.

You dig any deeper, you’ll end up digging a grave.

A grave.

When the realization hit me, my heart thundered, the sound filling my ears, and my vision filled with black spots.

Hallow Ranch was behind the disappearance of those developers.

Chapter Twenty-One

Beau

“Having an office in the loft of a barn is a little ridiculous, don’t you think?” Ricky asked, every syllable of his voice testing my patience.

I leaned back against the wall across from Denver’s desk and crossed my arms and ankles, settling in for the verbal—possibly physical—ass beating about to occur. Denver took off his hat, placing it on a hook by the window that overlooked the corral before turning to face the warden. “I asked for a team days ago, Johnson,” he deadpanned, taking a seat in his chair behind the desk, the wooden creaking underneath his heavy frame. “I expected a team days ago.”

Ricky Johnson being the District Wildlife Manager was nothing short of a surprise. We didn’t know when or how he came into this position. Hell, we weren’t even notified Paul had retired. Then again, he wasn’t the best in the first place, but anything was better that Ricky fucking Johnson.

The man was untrustworthy, a snake hiding in plain sight, waiting for the right moment to strike.

“Ricky, I don’t get surprised very often, but when you called me that morning, you did the impossible,” Denver began calmly. “When did Paul retire?”

“Two months ago,” Ricky answered boastfully, puffing his chest out.

“So you should understand the ins and outs of your job by now,” Mason mused, rolling his eyes.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Ricky asked slowly, ticking his head to the side.

“It means, when a ranch calls with a grizzly problem, you fucking answer it,” Denver clipped.

“The Wildlife—”

Denver held up his hand, his gray eyes cold. “Hallow Ranch is the largest and most profitable ranch in the state of Colorado, but I’m fairly certain you’re aware of that.”

I studied Ricky’s posture from behind, taking note of how stiff and rigid he was, the tension in his shoulders, the way he picked at the hangnail at his side.

“Yes, Mr. Langston, I’m aware of that,” Johnson pushed out slowly, as if the words left a bad taste in his mouth.

My lips twitched, and I found it difficult to conceal my smirk. He hated Hallow Ranch and the Langston Brothers. Back in the day, his own family tried starting a ranch, but it only lasted maybe a decade or two before declaring bankruptcy. Then, Ricky’s father, Billy, tried his hardest to get his sons on Langston’s staff. The only problem was, Hallow Ranch wanted nothing to do with the Johnson Family. They were cheats, liars, and money hungry bastards, all reasons why their ranch failed.

“We’re just making sure, because since Hallow Ranch brings in such a profit and not to mention, beef for majority of the state, we just found it odd that your agency has been dragging their feet to get out here,” Mason added calmly, coming to stand at the side of Denver’s desk. “You haven’t sent one officer here. The one who was supposed to meet us the other day never showed. Why is that?”

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