Best Friend's Ex Box Set

“What?”

“I said, ‘Do you trust me’?”

“Yes. Yes, of course I do,” I said. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“So, when I tell you that Michael and I have this under control, and that you should continue to stay here and keep a low profile, and that your arm has raised enough suspicion in the sheriff to look into some things we’ve given him, you believe me?”

“What did you give him?” I asked.

“Don’t worry yourself with it. Just know that both Michael and I still think Bill is somehow behind this. The pieces—that were only theories before—are starting to fall into place.”

“You’re chasing a drunken theory?” Tiffany asked.

“Better than no theory,” Michael said.

“Trust me,” Colt said. “When we told the sheriff what we knew, he took your arm into consideration, and it got his lazy ass kicked into gear.”

“Must’ve been some intense stuff,” Tiffany said.

“We’ve got this, Cheyenne,” Michael said. “Just do what Colt asks. Stay here, keep a low profile, and let us deal with it.”

And at this point, my nerves were no longer giving me a choice. My breaths were coming in short spurts, and tears were bubbling up again. Colt had to wrap me up in his arms before I felt rooted to the ground again.

To reality again.

To my life again.

“Okay,” I said into his chest, slowing exhaling and trying to calm down. “I trust you.”

“Good. Because I think we’ve almost got it,” Colt said. Then he pressed a kiss to the top of my head and started s

waying with me in the kitchen.

“Tiffany. Care to sit on the porch?” Michael asked.

“Sure! We can talk more about the fundraiser,” she said.

“She’s clueless,” I murmured into Colt’s chest.

“Welcome to my sister,” he said, chuckling. “So brilliant, so oblivious.”

Chapter Thirty-Two

Colt

Michael got a phone call from one of his legal contacts, just after the sheriff left. Apparently, they’d been doing a little more ‘legal digging’ and found additional information that linked incredible shady shell companies to Bill’s sudden infusion of cash. It took a bit of routing and tracing by technological minds that owed Michael favors, but when they faxed over their information, we were astounded by the volume, and even had to refill the paper before we got the entire file that was faxed.

“Holy Jesus,” Michael said.

I stuck it all in two manila envelopes, determined to go to the sheriff, but I had one stop I wanted to make before I took this evidence there. I didn’t want Cheyenne going to sleep tonight with this weight that was stirring up her anxiety, so Michael and I hopped into my car and headed for Bill’s.

“You sure you wanna do this?” Michael asked.

“Remember what you told me at the bar?” I asked.

“I was talking about threatening someone with an actual lawsuit,” he said.

“Well, this will be an actual lawsuit. And I want him to see every inch of it coming. I want Cheyenne to go to bed tonight without a care in the world on her shoulders. She’s been through enough.”