Wild Trail (Clean Slate Ranch #1)(94)

“Is that all for now?” Wes asked, using his most authoritative voice. “His best friend just got shot, so perhaps we could have some space.”

“Of course.” Cop One handed him a business card. “County sheriff’s office will follow up on this incident, but we’ll work with them. If you think of anything else, call.”

Wes tucked the card into his pocket. “Thank you.”

Once they left, he led Mack to a row of chairs and installed him in one. Mack’s red eyes were distant, a little glassy as shock set in. Wes squatted in front of him and squeezed his thighs. “I’m right here, Mack. Right here. Stay with me, okay? Colt’s gonna be fine. You were a hero tonight.”

Mack’s gaze flickered in his direction. “Can’t believe this all happened. Feels surreal.”

“Tell me about it. One minute I’m drinking wine, the next minute I’m part of a live-action police thriller.”

“Shit, are you okay?” Mack grabbed his shoulders and looked up and down, assessing him.

“I’m fine, not even a scratch from broken glass. I mean, yes, I was terrified for a good ten minutes or so, but I’m alive. You’re alive. Colt will be fine. Believe that. He’s going to live so you can continue to be mad at him.”

Mack’s lips twitched. “He saved my life.”

“It’s what friends do. He still loves you, you big teddy bear. That doesn’t change because he made a horrible mistake.”

Something in Mack’s eyes softened a bit. “I need to call Arthur and Judson, tell them what happened. They’re going to wonder about the fire trucks.”

“If they aren’t wondering already.”

Mack moved to the far side of the waiting area, closer to the doors to make his phone calls. Wes hauled his weary body into a chair to wait, shaky and nauseated now that his adrenaline had burned up. His “be strong” mode was winding down, and he really didn’t want to lose it in the middle of a waiting room—or in front of Mack, who needed to focus his energy on Colt.

Except...that was the point of being boyfriends, wasn’t it? To lean on each other, prop each other up. He could be weak in front of Mack, because Mack was safe. Mack would understand and not tease him for his weakness. Not pick on him for a few tears like Drake had a couple of times.

Wes allowed his body to work through the fear and trauma by releasing more than a few tears that he wiped away on his sleeve. An elderly woman toddled over and handed him a wad of tissues that he accepted with a grateful smile. She didn’t ask questions or push, simply kept walking, handing out more tissues to other people. This waiting room’s own guardian angel.

Mack returned and pulled him into a hug. Wes melted against him, grateful for the support while he cried some more, getting it out so he could return the favor for Mack. “You’re okay,” Mack whispered. Over and over. “We’re okay.”

“I know. Stress.”

“I get it. Believe me.”

Eventually Wes’s tears stopped, and he had enough strength to hug Mack back. They needed each other to get through this.

“Arthur and Reyes are on their way,” Mack said after a few moments existing in silence, marred only by the regular ER noises and voices. “Judson took Slater with him up to the site to supervise the cops, see what’s what.”

“I can’t believe they burned down the blacksmith shed,” Wes replied. “Didn’t you tell me Avery said it was the most well-preserved of the bunch?”

“Yeah. We’ve got a bunch of pictures, and it’s not like the anvil would melt. We’ll just rebuild it with reclaimed wood, like we are the other new buildings.”

“Extra expense.”

“An expense I plan on getting back from whoever is responsible for all this.”

“I just can’t wrap my head around someone wanting to sabotage the restoration. It doesn’t make...” Wes stopped as a nebulous thought began to swirl and combine into something tangible.

Mack pulled back so they were face-to-face. “What is it?”

“Timing. The timing. You’ve had clues of something happening from nearly the first week, right? It’s as if someone knew the town existed, and suddenly you’re out there messing around, and they don’t want a tourist attraction built, because...they’re hiding something they found, maybe?”

“If someone had found something out there, it’s so remote that they could have removed it without us ever knowing.” Mack’s gaze went distant as he lost himself to something in his head. Then he blinked hard several times. “Fuck.”

Someone nearby hissed.

“What?” Wes asked, ignoring the language prude.

“Somebody’s been after Arthur to buy the back forty for a year. The ghost town is right on the border of the acreage that’s been offered on. Multiple times. But the buyer won’t tell Arthur why, and Arthur won’t sell unless he knows the land will stay wild and intact.”

“So the buyer could be behind this.”

Mack’s mouth twisted into a furious scowl. “Like you said. Timing. You got the card from that cop? Judson will know the name of the buyer. We need to pass along what we know.”

Wes fished the card out and handed it over. Mack moved away again to make his phone calls. Wes watched him, unable to hear words, but Mack made animated gestures with his free hand, punctuating his statements. The whole thing seemed convoluted and strange, like something out of a romantic suspense movie plot, but it was happening.