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“You think he was part of it?” I asked.
Ambrose shook his head. “I think he was tricked into it. He was trapped in a position where he had to go against his chief and his partner, and there’d been so much tampering he wasn’t sure what was real and what wasn’t. I think he quit because he wasn’t going to be manipulated like that again.”
“Which means he’s not going to want to be manipulated by us.”
Ambrose nodded. “True, but we’re offering him help. The chief had nothing to offer him but continuing to do his bidding like a good little stooge.”
I wasn’t sure our offer would be enough to convince him, but we had to try.
“Go on and get ready.” Ambrose waved me toward Dax’s bedroom.
Ambrose thought it would be best if I dressed to look younger than I was. I could still pass for eighteen or less if I needed to. I was sure that was one of the things that had attracted Rob and his friends to me.
Remington had gotten Henri to order me some clothes, and he’d had them sent over. I still couldn’t get used to the fact that they could just buy whatever they wanted whenever they wanted with top-notch service. Dax wasn’t as flashy as his cousins, but I knew he had access to the same kind of money. How was I ever going to fit into this world?
I pulled on the outfit Henri had chosen: skinny jeans, a baseball shirt, and a hat. I combed my hair out, making it extra shaggy, then slid my feet into the vans Henri had gotten me.
“What do you think?” I asked Dax
He frowned. “It’s unsettling.”
“You look just like you did at sixteen,” Ambrose said. “It’s perfect.”
Dax shook his head. “I don’t like it. You should just wear your regular clothes.”
Ambrose snorted. “You just don’t like it because he’s hot, and it bothers you.”
“It’s not just that. He looks so young. And those jeans… They’re obscene.”
Ambrose rolled his eyes. “He’s not going to get hit on. He’s just trying to look young and clueless.”
Dax growled.
“Get over yourself,” Ambrose said. “Let’s get in the truck.”
I laid my hand on Dax’s arm. “The sheriff is most likely straight. You don’t have anything to worry about.”
Ambrose cleared his throat. “Actually, he’s not.”
Dax scowled at him. “You’re telling me he’s gay, and you knew that, and Travis is—”
“Winston’s sexuality was the first secret Blackjack found. Winston managed to keep his relationships hidden from the guys he worked with in Baltimore, and I assume he wants to stay in the closet here. I couldn’t use that against him, so I told Blackjack to keep digging.”
Dax’s anger seemed to dissipate. “Thank you for that. I would do anything to protect Travis, but—”
“There are always more secrets. We’re allowed to pick and choose.”
I was glad Ambrose had looked deeper. I wasn’t sure I could have gone along with the plan if we were going to use the sheriff’s sexuality against him. I’d had my gayness used against me more times than I could count. I wasn’t someone who could easily pass for straight, not like Dax and Beau. Winston was probably like them. I imagined him being big, masculine, and clean-cut.
Beau had found a beat-up rusty truck for us to use. Dax and Ambrose argued over who would drive. Ambrose had won because he knew where we were going, which seemed sensible to me, but I wasn’t about to say that. When we reached the spot where we hoped to lure Winston, Ambrose drove the truck off the side of the road, sending the front end way down into the ditch. The vehicle looked completely stuck, but he and Dax assured me they could get it out when it was time to go. I’d seen Beau get cars out of worse predicaments, so I had to assume they weren’t just bluffing.
I heard a vehicle coming long before I saw the sheriff’s SUV. When he pulled up behind me and stopped, I couldn’t help but glance toward the woods where Dax and Ambrose waited. Dax was positioned so far back I couldn’t see him, but I knew he was there, and I was sure he was keeping his eyes on me. I could just make out Ambrose, though his gaze was focused on Winston, never wavering as the man approached.
I’d guessed right. The sheriff had that clean-cut look—short, military hairstyle, broad shoulders. He wore his uniform well. He was muscular but not overly bulky. I was sure Dax and Ambrose could easily take him in a fight, though most drunks and common criminals were probably easy for him to put down.
“Hi there. I’m Eric Winston, the sheriff. I understand you’ve got a problem with your truck.”
Why did cops always state the obvious? Of course there was a problem with the truck. The back bumper was hanging off, and it was nose down in a ditch. I was surprised the pile of junk had made it this far. It didn’t look worth saving, but I had to convince him I was desperate to get it back on the road.
