Not how it was supposed to happen. Ross had planned to win the election by a landslide then run to her, go down on one knee, and hand her the biggest diamond ring he could find.
The bottom had fallen out of his world when she’d said, Marry me and I’ll help you run your campaign. As though the marriage part of that suggestion wasn’t important.
It kept falling, like an endless pit. Ross pounded the steering wheel and scrubbed a hand through his hair.
“What am I—stupid? The most beautiful girl in the world asked me to marry her, and I said No? Son of fucking bitch!”
Callie wasn’t a desperate, sad woman needing a man, any man to make her feel better. She was over that asshole—Ross could see it in her eyes. Callie had a family behind her, her own life, her own money. She didn’t need Ross, and that worried him.
Why? Because he was afraid he had nothing to offer? Nothing that would keep her by his side? What the hell was wrong with him?
Callie liked him, had said she wanted to be with him. That should have been enough for Ross.
But no, he wanted her to fall in love with him, as hard and strong as he’d fallen in love with her.
In the end, Callie had told him to go away.
Maybe she’d call. He’d told her to call. His phone lay beside him, ready to be answered.
“I am so fucking pathetic,” Ross said out loud. “Fucking dumbass.” His brothers had been right. He hadn’t taken Callie seriously enough.
Ross drove around until he couldn’t think of any excuse to not go home. He’d have to move out soon—he could manage a couple more months rent before he ran out of money.
His mom planned to use the apartment over the garage at Circle C as a guest house now that Tyler and Jess and family had their own home. The small, two-room place with refurbished kitchen and bath was good for a bachelor.
“Because I’m going to be a bachelor for the rest of my sorry life,” Ross muttered as he pulled into the alley. He’d have to return Carter’s truck tomorrow. Ross now had no vehicle and no job, and soon, he’d have no home of his own.
“Dumb fuck,” he told himself.
He opened the garage door and slid Carter’s truck into the small space.
The passenger door was yanked open, and a man Ross knew only from reputation slid inside.
Ross never locked his doors when he drove around, because, well, this was Riverbend. Everyone knew everyone else, and besides, a would-be carjacker might find himself looking at the business end of a loaded shotgun.
The back doors of Carter’s big cab also opened to admit two very large men.
“Ross Campbell?” his front-seat passenger asked. He wore a gray suit with a bolero tie and one tasteful ring on his right hand. His hair was dark brown, his eyes a piercing blue, and he set his cowboy hat on the seat between them. “I’m Dell. Let’s go for a ride, shall we?”
Chapter Sixteen
Ross gazed back at Dell Leith, the biggest drug dealer in the Hill Country. Because Ross had turned in his badge that morning, he no longer had to say “alleged” drug dealer. Dell was the man, and everyone knew it.
Ross also couldn’t pull out a gun and wave it at Dell, because he’d turned in his pistol with the badge, and Carter didn’t carry firearms in his vehicle.
Another man who’d been in the shadows of the garage pried open the truck’s hood and looked around inside before he lowered it again. Searching for a tracker, Ross suspected. He wouldn’t find one there.
Dell had already taken Ross’s cell phone, and he handed it out the window to his thug, who tucked it into a pocket. It was likely he’d carry the phone a long way in the opposite direction to where Dell took Ross before he smashed it.
Ross leaned out the window. “Hey, if my girlfriend calls, tell her I said sorry and that I’ll call her back as soon as I can.” He turned to Dell and pasted on a smile. “We kinda had a fight.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.” Dell flicked his fingers at his lackey who faded away. “Let’s go, Mr. Campbell.”
Ross knew damn well the thugs in the back had guns trained on him. He sighed, put the truck in reverse, and started backing out of the garage. “Where to?”
“I’ll let you choose the route,” Dell said easily. “You’ll feel more comfortable that way. Don’t worry. If all goes well, you’ll be back here in time to call your girlfriend and make up.”
“Uh-huh,” Ross said skeptically. “Okay, then.”
Dell rolled up the window as Ross drove sedately down the alley and around the square. The closed passenger window would keep people from seeing Dell clearly, and the men in the back were shadows.
Ross hung his arm out his open window, ignoring the heat. He pulled to a stop on the far side of the square, facing the road that would take them northward out of town.
Ray Malory crossed the street in front of them. He glanced at Ross, noting that he drove Carter’s truck and that a man sat next to him.
He gave Ross a little nod of recognition, which Ross returned, and Ray continued walking.
Ray, the oldest Malory, spoke in a lazy drawl, enjoyed beer, and moved in slow deliberation, but he wasn’t stupid. He’d seen Dell and registered him, but didn’t betray, by look or pace, any alarm. He continued to the feed store on the corner, raising his hand in greeting to the owner.
“Who’s that?” Dell asked as Ross pulled away.
“Him? Oh, Ray. Hates the Campbells. We’ve been rivals for years.”
“You don’t say.”
Ross didn’t respond. Dell gazed out the window, as though interested in the last buildings in Riverbend and then the ranch country that unfolded around them.
It was beautiful in the late evening, the worst of the heat fading, clouds glazed golden by the afternoon sun.
Ross turned down a fork off the main road, heading for the river. The Colorado took a wide bend through the county just there, hence the name of the town. The bluffs at the end of the road made for a great picnic and hiking area, with dirt roads that led down to swimming holes and places to fish. The greenbelt along the river was officially a state park, which kept it pristine and let wildlife flourish.
It was one of Ross’s favorite places to go when he needed to think. He’d planned to bring Callie there on one of their “dates,” to stroll by the river, lie in the shade of spreading trees, kiss and enjoy the calm, maybe make love if no one was around.
Not that he’d had any days off to do this—although now, Ross had endless time. That is, if Dell’s guys didn’t shoot him and push the truck off a bluff.
Ross hated that such violent people marred the beauty of his county, but here they were. Courtesy of Hennessy.
“So, what you want to talk about?” Ross fell into easy tones, as though he wasn’t worried. He was just a stupid country boy in his boots and cowboy hat. He couldn’t be all that smart, could he?
“You,” Dell said smoothly. “And your application to run for sheriff. Go back to your courthouse, withdraw your name, and we’ll leave you alone.”
“I see. Not a fan, are you?”
“Mmph.” The sound held humor. “You’re out of your depth, Campbell. You’re very young to run for a position of such responsibility.”
“Minimum requirement is twenty-one in this county. I looked it up. Clean record, experience in law enforcement helpful. My brothers were the ones who drove pickups into storefronts and TP’d the mayor’s house. I was the good one, always stayed home and studied.”
Another grunt. Dell didn’t dress like a gangster or act like everyone’s idea of one—he could be another good old boy businessman at the bar.
That’s how he perceived himself, Ross understood. Just a businessman. His commodity was heroin or cocaine instead of software or cloud storage or feed and tack. He dealt in cash rather than credit and drifted into and out of the county, setting up in decent neighborhoods. Dell didn’t sell out of his house directly but had a network of kids who delivered the stuff and took the money.
They reached the hills around the river, and the road began to wind. A drive with stunning views, one of Ross’s favorites.
“Say what you need to,” Ross said, fingers sliding along the steering wheel. “I’m listening.”
Dell shrugged. “Not much to say. I prefer Hennessy to remain sheriff.”
Ross’s hairline grew damp with perspiration. The open window let in a draft of hot air, good excuse for the sweat trickling down his temples.
“Hennessy’s getting on in life,” Ross said. “He’ll retire soon. There’ll be a new sheriff in a few years, whether you like it or not.”
“Probably.” Dell didn’t seem worried. “My bet is on McGregor.”
“Could be.” Ross imagined Hennessy grooming his favorite to take over. “But what’s wrong with me? I’m young, like you say, so I have a shot of staying in for a long time, if the people of River County like me.”
Dell’s voice turned grim. “What’s wrong is I don’t like you. You rag on Hennessy too much. Guy’s just trying to do his job.”
“Hennessy is supposed to work for the county. Turns out, he’s working for you too, right?”
“Did he tell you that?”
“’Course not. I deduced it. The only way you skedaddled out of that house in White Fork is if he told you he was coming. And the only way he’d have told you is if he was getting paid. Hennessy is kind of greedy.”
“Let me be blunt with you, Mr. Campbell, instead of talking around the point,” Dell said in a hard voice. “Hennessy understands his situation. You have a lot of family in River County—all those brothers who are now breeding children. Plus many friends. Plus that pretty young woman you’re chasing around from the big ranch.”
Ross went cold, his uneasiness and perspiration vanishing in a heartbeat. Dell Leith had just made a very big mistake.
“Son, her daddy can eat you for breakfast,” Ross told him, letting his drawl deepen.
Dell gave him a minute nod. “I think both you and he will do as I say, for her sake.”
Big, big mistake.
Not much traffic out here this late, the road now rising from the meadows to wind around stands of trees, the Hill Country at its most magnificent.
“Why all the threats?” Ross asked, keeping his voice easy. “You did a deal with Hennessy. Why not offer me the same terms?”
Dell’s eyes were cold, like ball bearings behind human lenses. “Nice try. I know what entrapment is.”
Ross lifted one hand from the wheel. “What entrapment? I no longer work for the sheriff’s department. I turned in my badge and gun, remember? My uniform is at the cleaners. And like hell I’m going to tell Hennessy anything that’s said in this truck. It belongs to my brother, anyway.”
Dell studied him a moment. He’d taken Ross’s phone, this wasn’t a police vehicle, and there was little chance anyone was listening in. “Let’s say a hundred grand a quarter. Cash. For nothing. Leave me the hell alone and have someone tell me if anyone gets the great idea to flush me out. I don’t do anything illegal in the nice suburban homes I rent.”
Ross believed him, but he pretended to think. “A hundred a quarter is thirty-three grand a month. In my present circumstances, I’m going to need a little more.”
“Seriously?” Dell smiled, but no warmth reached his eyes. “You’re a shithead, but all right. Fifty a month until you are elected. Then your salary will have to cover your expenses.”
“Wait a minute. Once I get elected, I get a pay cut? That’s no incentive.”
“You have balls, Campbell. Okay, fifty a month, in perpetuity, and I ensure you push out Hennessy at the ballot box.”
“You have that kind of money?” Ross asked him. “And that kind of pull? I was messing with you.”
“You have no idea. Hennessy was happy with thirty grand, but I guess you like your comforts.” Dell glanced out the front window. “I don’t like to tell you your job, Deputy, but you’re taking these curves a little fast.”
Ross took both hands off the wheel, accelerated into a hairpin turn, and then slammed his hands back down to swing the truck around the corner at the last minute. The back tires skidded, heading for the road’s edge.
“Don’t worry. I’ve been driving back here since I got my license.” Since before that, in truth, when Carter had taught thirteen-year-old Ross on these roads, but Ross wasn’t going to say that out loud.
Another very tight curve approached. Ross dragged the truck around the corner and sped up still more.
“Seriously, Campbell, what are you doing?” Dell said, some alarm in his voice. “My guys will shoot you dead.”
“Yeah? While I’m doing this?”
He let the truck roar off the highway, the pickup nearly airborne until it landed, spinning and dancing, on a smaller dirt road. Ross righted the wheels and drove on at a high speed, keeping his turns tight as the road wound down the side of a steep hill. A ravine opened up on the right, the river sparkling at the bottom.
“Shit!” Dell finally lost his reserve. “You asshole—are you crazy?”
Ross’s voice went grim. “If your guys shoot me, you’re not going to be doing too well. I’m not sure the passenger side airbag works. Carter gets busy, forgets to fix things.” Ross lied—the airbag was fine, because no way in hell would Carter let his wife or daughter ride with him if it wasn’t.
One of the men in the back was green, sweat shining on his face. Ross had been watching his motion sickness come on. The other man just looked scared.
“You might want to tell them to take their fingers off the triggers,” Ross said. “To avoid accidents.”
He swerved the truck to the edge, sending rocks and dirt spewing into the ravine, before he pulled it back at the last second.
Dell motioned to his guys, and Ross heard the clicks of safeties being engaged. “I swear to God, you are a dead man, Campbell.”
“Why? I thought we had a deal. This is just me having some fun.”
Ross spun around another corner, back tires tearing into soft earth.
Ross had driven this road hundreds of times, in vehicles both larger and less sturdy than this, including his sheriff’s SUV. Kids liked to come down this way to raise hell, each generation believing they’d found the secret spot to party at the bottom of the canyon. Adam told Ross their dad had come down here in his teens to enjoy a few beers. Probably their grandfather had come in his day, to smoke rolled cigarettes and drink bootleg whisky.
He knew Dell would have his men shoot him the moment he stopped, so Ross decided not to stop. Not until he was good and ready.
Another blind corner reared up, and Ross gunned the engine. Rocks littered the road, a perfect ramp. He punched the accelerator as hard as he could, and the pickup left the ground.
* * *
“Shit. Shit—Callie, it’s me!”
Callie had set down her fork on the breakfast bar, not really wanting the plate of pasta she’d fixed for herself. She’d cooked because she knew she needed to eat, but she had no interest in food. She’d listlessly picked up the phone when it rang from an unknown number, but now she came alert.
“Manny? Calm down, sweetie. What’s wrong?”
She wondered if his dad was ill, or if the man had thrown Manny out. No matter—the Joneses kept trailers for the hands who lived on the ranch, and one was empty. Callie had meant to offer it to Manny, but much had happened today, and he’d gone on home after the horses had been fed.
“It’s Ross,” Manny said in a frightened voice. “They’re gonna kill him.”
“What?” Callie’s focus sharpened. “Who is?”
“Dell—the guy the sheriff pretended to chase out of White Fork. He’s got Ross. I saw him in Ross’s garage. I was hiding there, and Dell and his thugs walked in. I about shit my pants.”
Callie dimly wondered why Manny had hidden himself in Ross’s garage, but she’d ask him about that later. “Tell
me what happened. Exactly.”
“Ross pulled in, Dell and his guys got into the truck, and they all drove away. Except for the guy who took Ross’s phone. He walked out and went to the diner.”
“Is he still there?”
“At the diner? Yeah. But Dell has Ross. They drove out of town. They’re going to kill him!”
Callie believed him. If Hennessy was taking kickbacks from this man called Dell, and Ross had decided to run for sheriff, Dell would see that as a threat. He probably figured Ross knew about Hennessy’s corruption.
Fear chilled her. Ross was alone, and these men were serious business. They wouldn’t think twice about killing him—they’d waited until he was no longer under the protection of the sheriff’s department to grab him.
If Ross died, Callie knew her life wouldn’t be worth living. Devon leaving her had been a blow, an infuriating one, but she’d not grieved for him. Lying low in her parents’ house had let her lick her wounds and figure out what she wanted to do, but she hadn’t shed many tears, not for Devon. Even ending her friendship with Trina hadn’t upset her the way it should have—Trina hadn’t tried to get back in touch since the day of the barbecue, her abandonment of Callie final. Trina’s friendship, Callie realized, had been of the fair-weather kind.
Ross had infiltrated himself into her life, had become a strong thread in the weft of it. He’d always been there, she realized. Even their ridiculous fight this morning was only a blip in their road. They’d recover, figure out what they wanted, maybe have terrific make-up sex, and go on.
Callie would never recover if Ross was killed. Neither would his family. Neither would Manny—it would teeter him to the dark side, just when Ross was pulling him out of it.
“Manny, honey,” Callie began, hoping her voice was calm. “Keep an eye on the man in the diner. Do not approach him, and if he leaves, let him go. I’m coming into town right now. Okay?”
“Don’t worry—I don’t got a death wish. But hurry. Ross is in shit so deep, I don’t know if we can dig him out.”
Manny’s voice held tears. Callie dashed away her own as she hung up, grabbed her keys, and sprinted out the door. Her silver car roared to life, and she barreled down the drive to the highway.
Ross: Riding Hard, Book 5 Page 16