“Everything’s great, fine, perfect,” I blurt out like verbal diarrhea. Way to go, genius. He’s going to know something’s up.
“You don’t sound fine, perfect.”
“You forgot great,” I tease. “I’m cleaning right now, and I almost missed your call.”
“Oh, okay. I love you, Phoenix.” I hear the concern and fear in his voice and my heart breaks.
“Raymond, I love you too.”
“Good. I’m just calling because we stopped for a bathroom break. Have you eaten?”
“No, totally forgot.” It’s the truth even though I wasn’t hungry until he said something.
“Eat, babe. I’ll call you later.”
“I will. Drive safe.”
As soon as he ends the call, I hear the sound of a large vehicle in the driveway. I peek out the front window and see it’s a UPS delivery truck. Okay. That’s not who I was expecting, but I assume that Cowboy gets a lot of packages because he’s a busy guy.
I open the front door and I’m greeted by a young guy. “I have this envelope for Phoenix Caringal.”
“I’m her.” He hands me an envelope and then leaves. From the size of it, I know it’s not a bomb, but there could be poison in here. Only my former boss and the administrative people know where I’m living. Maybe it’s follow-up documentation. I open it, and I’m unpleasantly surprised.
It’s not retirement documentation, after all. It’s pictures of Raymond, each one more and more disturbing than the last until I reach a note. I drop the stack of photos on the floor, sending them scattering about as the words I read shake me to the core.
You thought you could just walk away unscathed, but you don’t know who you crossed. Look how easy I can get to him. You better run because if you stay put, I’ll be putting an end to that Cowboy. Contact the police or the Feds and I’ll kill him slowly.
I can’t believe it. Who sent these to me and knows exactly who I am? It has to do with the PI agency and the case against the owner. Although Richter’s in jail at the moment, so it’s not him directly, this letter feels personal. I cry out when I think about how close the person had to be to get several of the photos of Cowboy.
I need to figure out how to fix this because there’s no way I can leave and there’s no way I can put Raymond in danger. Should I call him and tell him the truth? Or do what’s best and find the bastard doing this while protecting Cowboy by staying away?
For the next hour, I make my decision. I’ll do whatever I can to protect the love of my life. Even if it means running away again.
Chapter Twelve
Cowboy
“Okay, little fella. It’s time to take you to meet your mommy. She’s gonna love you.” I pet the little guy through his crate. Of all the animals to add, I never expected to add a fainting goat, but I’ll do anything to get Angel to stay. I think it’s a hell of a Valentine’s Day present.
I pull up to the ranch and a sinking feeling hits me in the pit of my stomach. She’s fucking done it again. Why?
I throw the truck in park and dash upstairs to my bedroom and check for her things, but I already know my answer. Everything of hers is gone. The ache in my chest grows and then I remember that I left that asshole goat in the back of the trailer. He’s fine, but I’ll have to add him with the rest of the barn animals because I’m not driving his ass all the way back to Arlington.
“Fuck it.” I dial Jose.
“Que paso, Jefe?”
“I’ve just got back. I’ve got a baby goat that you can put in a small pen out in the back please. I’m gonna ride out to the clubhouse.”
“I’m sorry, Jefe. Maybe she’ll come back again.”
“Nah. I’m not going to chase her again. She doesn’t want to be here then I guess I can’t make her fucking stay.” She lied to me, abandoned the love I’ve given her as if it meant nothing. I sensed something wrong earlier and I should have gone with my gut.
“I’m truly sorry, Raymond.”
“Thanks.” He only calls me that when he knows things are that fucked up and I’ve had my fair share of fucked up, but this may just take the cake. Popping on my ride, I speed out onto the main road. The second I reach the clubhouse, I see that it’s empty, so I drive over to Panhandles because I need a fucking beer.
I step inside and see Roxie who has seen better days. It’s clear as fuck she’s heartbroken, but no one’s talking about it. She’s not saying a word.
“Cowboy, you look like you need a beer or six,” she says.