Best Friend's Ex Box Set

“We all have,” Michael said.

We pulled into Bill’s driveway, and I laid my hand down on my horn. I had riled up all his horses before I hopped out of the running truck, and by the time we got to the porch, he had ripped the door open and was screaming at us. Cheyenne was right—the man looked pretty bad—but it only lit a fire under my ass to drive him into the ground.

“I think we need to talk, Bill,” I said.

“Get the hell off my—”

I shoved him into his home, and that’s when Bill’s tongue started flying.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing? You caught your fucking guy, and you’re still messing with me? This is harassment and I won’t—”

I grabbed his shirt and slammed him into the wall, knocking the wind out of him. Michael put his hand on my shoulder, apparently wanting me to settle down, but I was done with him. He had the nerve to get pissed at us for barging into his home, when he had not only done it to Cheyenne, but had hurt her in the process.

“You’re gonna pay for what you did to Cheyenne if you don’t shut the hell up,” I said.

“What are you gonna do, Smith? Grab my arm and yank me around a little?”

I slammed him into the wall hard, and that’s when Michael pulled me off, then shoved the folders into my chest.

“Keep it together, Colt. Don’t give him a reason to countersue.”

“Countersue?” Bill choked out. “What the hell are you talking about? I could already take you to court for assault as it is!”

Michael laughed in his face before he put his finger in it. When I saw the set of Michael’s jaw and the way Bill cowered underneath that steely gaze, I could only imagine the monster he had been in the courtroom.

I was glad to have him on my side.

“I would destroy you in court, even without the shit in these folders,” Michael said.

“What folders?” Bill asked.

“These,” I said. “You see, Bill, we’ve been doing a little digging, and we’ve found some very interesting things.”

“You’re bluffing,” spat Bill.

“Apparently, you’ve come into a bit of money recently,” Michael said. “Enough to redo your entire farm and pay off your massive credit card debt.”

“And we figured out your shell corporations have some really shady names you definitely don’t wanna punch into Google,” I said.

Bill’s face began to pale, and I could tell he was about to vomit. At that moment, I knew we had him. I was going to be able to rid Cheyenne and the rest of this town of Bill Coates for good, and it lit a fire within my chest.

“If I were you,” I said, “I’d get out of town while I could. Our next stop is the Sheriff’s Department, and from what my lawyer has told me, he wouldn’t be surprised if both the FBI and the DEA rained hell down on your precious little farm.”

I knew I was pushing it by bluffing with the DEA, but I was glad that Michael held his ground with me. I thrust the manila folders at his chest to sell my point, and that’s when it happened. Bill grew pale and collapsed to the ground, and when he resurfaced, he was groveling on his knees.

“I was in so much debt and was about to lose my ranch. I didn’t know what to do,” he said, with tears streaming down his cheeks. “I was contacted by someone named Bob, who was interested in reinvigorating my barn if I just took care of some horses for them, and it wasn’t until they got to me that I realized they were stuffed with drugs.”

I looked over at Michael, who was staring hotly down at Bill. I was shocked and could hardly breathe, but Michael was in full-on lawyer mode. He was soaking in every single word Bill was saying, and I was glad he was there because the moment he said ‘drugs,’ I knew he had officially put Cheyenne in a situation where she could have lost her life without even realizing why.

“Keep going. Let’s hear the rest of it,” Michael said, switching to a voice of calm authority, an almost reassuring presence for Bill.

“There’s a drug ring out of Canada smuggling drug-filled horses over the border. This Bob told me he’d pay off all my debt and provide me with an exorbitant amount of money each month if all I did was take care of these horses until they were picked up. I’d get the horses, I’d take care of them, I’d get them fed and keep them clean, then they’d be picked up, and I’d get paid. I didn’t question anything because I needed the money! I didn’t care much for the horses. I know that sounds awful, but the money is what was driving me.”

“When did you figure out you were helping a drug smuggling ring?” Michael asked.

“When my first horse got sick,” Bill said. “He just collapsed in my barn and had this massively swollen bulb protruding from its stomach, and when it ruptured, plastic bags just started pouring out. It was horrible.”

I felt physically sick to my stomach. Bill was blubbering so hard snot was dripping from his nose, draining onto the floor he was slouched onto. I bent down and picked up the manila folders he’d dropped to the floor, then threw my gaze to Michael who finally looked over and met my eyes.