Chapter Nineteen
S eneca sat in the near-empty diner trying to settle herself.
The Main Street diner and the neighboring gas station were the only places open twenty-four hours a day in town.
Those meant truckers, travelers, and emotionally rung-out people who were fighting with their overbearing lovers could come here for a brief respite.
If she’d stayed on the ranch, someone who loved her was going to be in her face trying to figure out what was going on.
As well-meaning as her loved ones were, she was too raw to draw them into this fight with Colton.
She shook her head, knowing she was lying. Her leaving had nothing to do with avoiding the people on the ranch and everything to do with her realizing she’d trusted the wrong man once again.
She glanced down at her Apple Watch, noting the time.
In just a few moments, things would get underway.
If her luck held, she’d be free of Hastings, and worse yet, Colton too.
As far as she was concerned, there was no way he’d be able to trust her after this.
He wanted to move past this, he did. But deep down, he would always question her decisions and she couldn’t, wouldn’t live like that.
She scrolled through the screen, tapping the app icon she was looking for and then took a breath to calm her nerves.
When Martha-Jean appeared with her cake, Seneca rubbed her hands together in anticipation as the waitress placed the thick slice of carrot cheesecake in front of her.
The stressful tension she’d been holding in her shoulders loosened its grip as the woman added an extra dollop of whip cream on top of it.
“You looked like you needed the extra sugar the way you walked in. Everything okay?”
“Not particularly,” Seneca answered. “But it will be soon.” She kept her eyes on the dessert in front of her so she wouldn’t have to watch Martha-Jean taking stock of what a hot mess she apparently was.
She grabbed the fork resting at the side of her plate and cut into what she knew from experience would be as close to ambrosia as her mortal mouth would ever experience.
“But I’m sure this carrot cheesecake will trick my brain into believing everything is fine—at least for a little while, anyway. ”
Martha-Jean gave Seneca’s hand a sympathetic pat. “I’ll go get you an ice-cold glass of milk to wash all that down.”
Seneca bobbed her head with as much enthusiasm as her frazzled mind could muster before tucking into her treat. As always, that first slice was sheer heaven, flooding her brain with happy endorphins that pushed the ugly residue of her argument with Colton to the back of her mind.
She was already halfway through the dessert when Martha-Jean returned with her milk. Seneca caught a brief glimpse of compassion in the waitress’s eyes. She winked at Seneca, as if she’d needed to eat her feelings a time or two because of a stubborn-ass man who thought he knew everything.
Determined to keep her sugar high coming, she worked her way through the next quarter of the cheesecake before her tongue demanded she wash some of that sugar down with some more milk.
The brief break in eating gave way to disappointment over Colton trying to bogart his way back into her consciousness.
Why was she so mad about this? It’s not like she hadn’t suspected from the moment she discovered he was a Texas Ranger that he didn’t trust her.
She knew she wasn’t reckless or incapable of making a good decision.
But he was law enforcement. What else did she expect from his perspective?
I expected him to know me. To accept me.
Seneca closed her eyes as her emotions threatened to overwhelm her.
She had to remain calm and keep her wits about her.
That’s the only way things were going to work out in her favor.
What she wasn’t gonna do was sit in the middle of a diner, crying into her dessert about how some man had done her wrong.
Even if everything else about this entire ordeal had turned out just about the way she’d anticipated, she wouldn’t allow herself to become that much of a cliché if she could help it.
She was about to pick up her fork when the ringing chimes over the front entrance filled the air. She turned around out of habit to see who was coming in the door.
She didn’t make eye contact. Instead, she returned her attention to her treat and took one last forkful of the sweet and spicy taste of cinnamon, nutmeg, sugar, and cream.
It was showtime, and she was determined that tonight would be the night she would free herself from the hell Hastings was putting her through.
She had a life to live—whether that included Colton in it remained to be seen.
But she was going to stop Hastings from hurting anyone else the way he’d hurt her.
Without opening her eyes, she knew the moment the stool next to her was occupied and by whom it was taken.
“Evening, young lady. Fancy meeting you here.”
She blew out a frustrated sigh, trying her best to rein in the anger, frustration, and disgust swelling in her chest.
“Evening, Sheriff,” she managed before opening her eyes and taking a glance at him.
“I’m glad I ran into you, missy.”
She tightened her hand around the metal fork as she swallowed the angry retort sitting on her tongue.
Do not let him goad you into doing or saying something stupid.
You have to remain in control of this situation.
That “missy” was obviously meant to remind her of her place, her station in life according to Hastings’s backward-ass thinking.
“Is that so?” She forced a tight smile on her lips and returned her gaze to the remainder of her cheesecake. “Did you need something?”
He leaned in closer. Not so close that anyone passing would think it strange, but close enough that no one else would overhear whatever vile thing she was certain he was about to say.
“My money,” he answered. “Do you have it yet?”
She swallowed hard, licking her dry lips before attempting to speak.
“I told you, I can’t do that for you.” She took a quick look around to see if anyone else was watching them.
When she noticed the few late-night stragglers were only interested in shoveling food in their mouths and not the conversation she was having with the sheriff, she met his gaze.
“And even if I could, I don’t have the necessary equipment on the ranch to get it done. ”
He chuckled, the cold sound slithering against her skin like a clammy reptile.
“You really take me for a fool, don’t you, gal?”
“According to Forrest Gump, ‘Stupid is as stupid does,’ so…”
“That’s cute,” he returned. Then he leaned in a little closer. “But it ain’t gonna stop me from destroying everything your boss is trying to build if I don’t get my money tonight.”
She huffed, trying to keep herself calm. “Leave Aja out of this. I told you, I don’t have the equipment I need. Whether I want to or not—and let’s be clear, I don’t want to—I cannot get you what you want without the necessary equipment.”
He stood and her nerves instantly put her on alert. “I say you can. If you don’t have the stuff you need, I’m just gonna have to get it to you. So, settle up with Martha-Jean and let’s you and me go get you whatever gadgets you’re lacking to get me my money.”
“Sheriff—”
He shook his head, cutting her off. “Mr. B at the electronics store has been unloading new equipment all day. I’m sure some of it is yours.
And since he owes me a favor or two, he’ll come down and open the shop up just because I asked.
So, no more discussion. You either get up and leave of your own free will, or I drag you out of here in cuffs. ”
“You can’t arrest me for not letting you extort me.”
He lifted a brow. “I’m the sheriff,” he said. “I can do whatever I want and there ain’t a damn thing you can do about it.” He tapped his fingers against the countertop. “Come on, now. I ain’t got all night. Which way is it going to be? Easy or hard?”
*
Colton paced back and forth in the middle of the kitchen of Aja’s main house as Jackson and Storm leaned against the counter.
He held his phone in the air with the speaker function engaged.
By the time the second ring vibrated through the air, Colton’s pacing had picked up enough speed that Jackson reached out and snatched the phone from him, placing it on the flat surface of the counter.
“Stand still before you wear a hole in my woman’s floor.”
He cut his eyes at Jackson, the snarky retort waiting on the tip of his tongue when Hargrove finally answered the line.
“Adams, it’s late.” Hargrove yawned. “This better be important.”
“Sir, if you consider busting a human traffic ring important, then yeah, this fits.”
His supervisor gave him a grumbled “Hold on.” A few moments later, Hargrove came back to the line sounding closer to his usual direct self. “What the hell is this about, Colton?”
“Sir,” Colton continued. “I’ve got Jackson and Storm here and we’ve stumbled onto a trafficking ring. It appears the Restoration Ranch case wasn’t just the vandalism like we’d thought. All of it is attached to a human trafficking ring the FBI has been tracking.”
“If the FBI’s been tracking this, how did it fall in our lap?”
He paused, meeting Jackson and Storm’s gaze. They each shrugged, then held up their hands as if backing away from the spotlight Hargrove’s question shined directly on Colton.
“The FBI believes the Fresh Springs sheriff is the local point man for the ring.” He took a breath when Jackson waved his hand in a “get on with it” fashion.
“Major Hargrove, full disclosure. The FBI wanted to use Seneca Daniels as bait to lay a trap for the sheriff. I warned her against it and went looking for another way. I may have made nice with the sheriff and bought him a few drinks while he engaged in some not-so-subtle-good-ole-boy talk.”