Page 2 of Cinnamon Cider Whiskey
And now that was over.
Time to pick up the pieces of his life.
Charity turned on her heel and took one step. She glanced over her shoulder. “On second thought, you can sleep on the sofa.”
He chuckled. “And why is that?”
She jerked her chin toward the stable. “That guy over there is always trying to chat me up. He gives me the creeps.”
“Gage? He’s harmless. But if you’re really that wigged out, lock the doors.”
“No. You can do this one last favor for me.” She cocked her head. “Don’t make me beg.”
“Fine. But I want you gone tomorrow. We’re not playing games. This is over.”
“No shit.” She flipped her hair and marched off, nearly tripping twice before she even reached the corral’s end.
Three weeks later…
Austin lowered his sunglasses. A dark sedan and the local sheriff’s vehicle were parked outside his house on the Whiskey Ranch. He tapped his horse’s belly with his heels and brought Renegade up to a trot. A steady burn filled his chest and increased as he got closer.
“May I help you?” He dismounted his horse about twenty paces from the police officer and another man dressed in a dark suit. He looked like a government type.
“Are you Austin Sawyer?” the government-looking man asked.
“I am.” He thought that was a ridiculous question. “Sheriff Logan, how are you?” He tied Renegade to a tree. He’d deal with putting him in the small barn behind the house later.
“I’ve been better,” Brad Logan said. “This is Special Agent Todd Belmont with the FBI.”
Austin stretched out his hand. “What brings you gentlemen out here?”
“May we go somewhere and talk?” the Fed asked.
Austin shrugged. “Sure. Come in.” He jogged up the stairs and pushed open the front door. “Would you like something to drink? I’m going to get a beer. It’s been a long day.”
“No, thanks,” Brad said.
“I’m good.” Belmont nodded.
“Make yourself at home. I’ll be right back.” Austin’s pulse pumped in the center of his throat. He knew exactly why the cops were at his door.
Charity.
He pulled a cold one from the fridge and strolled back into the family room.
The Fed had taken a seat on the wingback chair in front of the fireplace and Brad continued to stand. He looked like he’d swallowed something sour. Good, because Austin and Brad had played football together and he should know that Austinwouldn’t have done anything to hurt Charity, no matter the circumstances.
Austin had been in a few barroom fights back in the day, but he’d never lay a hand on a lady.
Not even one who cheated on him.
Austin took a seat on the sofa and swigged. “Why are you here?”
“I need to ask you some questions about the disappearance of your fiancée,” Belmont said.
“Ex-fiancée. We broke up the day before she left,” Austin corrected. “She was cheating on me with Tom Riptide, whom she returned to Boise to be with.” This wasn’t the first time someone questioned him about Charity.
Brad had done it once. So had the state police. He’d been on his best behavior both times, but that was before Tom started making wild accusations about his character and telling anyone who would listen that he believed Austin had killed Charity.
