Page 29 of Wildest Dreams
“Don't,” I warn, standing toe to toe.
“It's him or Austin, you wouldn't want Austin to go down for something he didn't do, would you? Dad was the last to see him...”
“I've been to see Austin. He has been told to take the plea. He knows how Clay died.”
Riggs steps back slightly, a heavy sigh making his broad shoulders rise and fall. “He died of head traumaapparently.”
Riggs blinks a couple of times.
“He ran after dad roughed him up, he didn't fall to the floor and stay down did he? Same with Austin, he ran. What's to say he didn't have a heart attack then fell and hit his head? They need someone to blame, or more like they want someone to blame and by ‘they’, I mean Clay's family. They won't let this go, and because witnesses came forward to say they saw Austin putting him in the back of the truck, that's their proof. No one official told them that he ran off. We all have. Austin has. But they don't care. Because I can bet you now that Kelcie's pockets are lined.”
“Something's off.”
“Exactly,” I throw my hand in the air, “look, I don't want Austin going down, and I don't want our dad going down either,but I just need a bit of time. We have two weeks until his hearing to be sentenced right? Two weeks is a fucking long time.”
Riggs turns away from me, hands moved to his hips as he looks at the artwork on the panelled wall.
“We will not fucking rest until the right person is brought to justice,” and he is back looking at me,
“Live by the ranch, die by the ranch,” he grunts, and I nod, repeating the words before following him back outside. “Wait,” he says as he bolts the bunk house door back.
Fuck.
“What did you want to talk about?”
I squint as I look down towards the creek.
“Dixie,” I push my tongue into the inside of my cheek.
“What about her?” Riggs tilts his head to the side.
“She is back for the funeral.”
“Right?” his brows furrow.
“Clay was Lainey's dad.” I kind of rush out because my chest aches as soon as the words have spilled.
“What?!” he barks, and I look down at my dust and mud covered boots. “Is she a fucking mole? Is she feeding them assholes information?”
I hadn't even thought of that.
“No,” I find myself defending her, “they only met up a few times, she hadn't seen him in months then heard the news...”
I had no idea if that was true but for some reason, I was incredibly protective of her which pissed me off a little.
“You better keep your mouth shut going forward, you have no idea what she's up to. Convenient that she happened to…” and he bunny quotes, “crash right outside our ranch?”
I mean, he isn't wrong.
“And she was coming back for that vermin’s funeral. I'm sorry Tripp, but I think we have a little snake living with you, ma and dad.”
And I can't argue that what he is saying doesn't make sense.
Because it does.
Too much sense actually.
I lift my hat from my head and run my hands through my brown hair, tipping my head back and letting the sun brush over my face for just a moment. The slight warmth feels good on my tired skin.