Page 2 of Reins

Shit, it’s getting me too. My face isn’t the only place on my body that still carries the mark of that accident.

Cold mornings make me stiff in all the wrong spots when I wake up.

“You’re the only asshole in that state that has this number.” I busy myself with brushing off Bessy, but my mind is struggling not to drift to fifteen years in the past.

“Maybe not for long,” he sighs, making the speaker crackle. “I hate to do this—”

I freeze, ice gripping my gut as the words leave his mouth. “No, Pete.”

He lets out another long exhale. “I have to. It’s time, Cade.”

My teeth grit as I clench my jaw. “What is it then?”

“It’s big and messy. I need you to come back.” He pauses and I can hear his muffled voice talking to someone else but can’t make out what he’s saying.

“No damn way. It’s almost Halloween. It’s gonna be winter. There’s a reason I live in Texas now.” The shiver that runs through me isn’t about the temperature though.

It’s the fact he’s calling in his favor.

Whatever it is, it has to be huge. Pete’s been a district attorney for years and never needed my help before.

If he’s calling me in, it’s too much for him to handle on his own.

“I think you’ll want to. I’m building charges against Judge Simmons.” There’s a tiny tremor in the name.

And I know exactly why.

That fucking woman has her fingers in every pot in the western half of the state.

I’m pretty sure she’s gathered enough dirt on every business owner and politician to keep herself in the clear for the rest of her life.

If Pete is going to charge her, he must have something incredible.

“How bad is it?” I ask quietly.

I know her well enough to know she won’t go down easily. Her sons used to run in the same circle as me.

Fuck. Her niece was the love of my life. Even thinking about the woman I lost makes me twinge in pain. Her brothers still probably hate me.

That’s a can of misery I don’t want to pry open.

“Every time I turn a corner, a new shit storm unfolds. I thought it was just revolving around Matt getting killed last year over a DV. But the more I dig—”

Matt? I knew that piece of crap.

That doesn’t surprise me. What does is the fact that the other Simmons asshole, Max, wasn’t the first to go.

“Cade? Did you hear me?” Pete grumbles.

“What?” I switch my cell to my other ear so I can hear him better.

Pete’s volume rises and his tone deepens. “I said, she’s been covering the tracks on a real whopper. There’s been a, uh, ranch here that’s been targeted now for a few years. Seems she might be working to keep the hounds off the right trail.”

No.

Absolutely not.

Taking a shuddering breath, I ask the question I loathe to put into the universe, knowing it’s going to make everything about this life I’ve tried to build to crumble into dust. “Which ranch?”