The Cowboy and the Hacker (Farthingdale Valley #5)

29. Cal

Chapter 29

Cal

I n the morning, Cal and Zeke had a small talk as they lingered in bed, the sun warming the green canvas.

“What do you want?” asked Cal. “I’ll tell you what I want. I want you. For you and me to be together.”

Zeke, his dark head on the white pillow, his green eyes serious, said, “I want that, too. But can we go slow?” He smiled and kissed Cal on the nose. “I’m newly gay and have no idea what I’m doing.”

With a laugh, Cal kissed Zeke full on the mouth and half-sprawled across him, being careful of Zeke’s leg while he soaked in Zeke’s warmth until it was really time to get up.

After they got dressed and went to breakfast, Cal wanted Zeke to rest, to give his leg a chance to heal. Zeke, of course, being Zeke, wanted nothing to do with being idle.

“I got enough rest,” Zeke said, limping a bit as they headed toward the paddock.

The sky was blue now, as if the rain had never happened, and they splashed through thin puddles along the path as they went.

“You’d make me rest,” Cal said, unable to hide the fondness in his voice. “You did, and you know it.”

Zeke paused, tugging on Cal’s sleeve, bringing them both to a halt. Beneath the brim of his cowboy hat, his expression was earnest, eyes bright.

“I feel better if I keep moving,” he said. He reached to brush his thumb along Cal’s cheek. “Though I reckon I ought to start up those PT sessions again.”

“You’ll be less likely to mess up your leg again if you do,” said Cal, then he laughed and quickly kissed Zeke beneath the shade of a large, sweeping pine tree. Beyond the shadows of the woods, the bright blue glitter of Half Moon Lake could be seen.

“You fuss,” said Zeke, but his slow smile took away any sting in the words. He kissed Cal back, their lips sweeping together, becoming a caress that lingered. “But I don’t find I mind it.”

Behind them on the path came Galen and his team, stomping through puddles and splashing mud up as if none of them would be responsible for their own laundry or cleaning their own boots come sundown.

“Hey,” said Galen, coming to a halt. Now there was a crowd of them on the path, and the peacefulness of the moment vanished like mist. “That guy from the other day?” asked Galen. “Didn’t you tell him visiting day was Sunday?”

“I did,” said Cal, his eyes going wide.

“Well, he’s here again. In the parking lot. And he seems really steamed.” Galen jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “I could call Sheriff Lamont,” he said, his eyes wide and earnest to do the right thing.

“I’ll deal with it.”

Cal gave Zeke’s hand a squeeze and sped toward the parking lot, his heart racing, jumping up in his throat even as he heard Zeke call for him to wait up.

Zeke couldn’t catch up because of his leg, but Cal wanted Preston dealt with before Zeke could even arrive at the parking lot.

He could wait for the sheriff, but by that time, Preston would have poisoned the whole valley with his hateful lies. Zeke and Preston had met each other for only a moment or two, but that was already way too long. Zeke didn’t deserve to go through any of that again, and it was up to Cal to make Preston go away for good.

Zeke was the best thing to ever happen to Cal, and was worth fighting for. Worth facing Preston for.

Zeke made him feel felt brand new every day. Cal had hardly expected that when he’d come to the valley weeks ago, shaking from his last encounter with Preston.

He’d arrived in the valley expecting the worst, his whole body had been drawn tight in anticipation of the next blow to come. A house of horrors. A chain gang dressed up to look like something else, but distinctively cruel, with Cal taking the brunt of all of it.

But instead he’d met Zeke, who, from the first, had taken Cal under his wing and taught him to expect more. More kindness. More understanding. All of it. Maybe even love.

They’d never said the word, but it was there between them, simmering under the surface like a promise of something good, something better.

For that reason, he would take care of Preston, make him go away and leave them alone. For good. Forever.

When he got to the parking lot, sweaty from his run through the damp woods, Preston was there, leaning on his blue BMW, arms crossed over his middle, leaning back, hips jutted out, a scowl firmly in place on his pretty face.

The pose was familiar, as was the expression. Both signaled that whatever lid Preston had on his temper was going to blow like a way-past-due volcano. He was nothing if not predictable, but that didn’t make it any easier to march up to him and poke him in the chest. As if that gesture had ever worked in the past.

Preston grabbed Cal and slammed him up against the BMW, holding his throat, squeezing with his fingers until Cal could hardly breathe. He went numb as he dragged at Preston’s hand to make him let go.

Then he felt hot with fury, his teeth gritted as he tugged harder. But that only made Preston smack him to the ground, his favorite trick, a rite of passage that occurred just before—usually just before—Cal gave in and begged Preston to stop. It was a dance of hate and all so Preston could feel he was top dog.

To have it happen again made him want to scream with rage.

As Preston pulled him to his feet, Cal tried harder, kicking with his legs, hate coursing through him, taking him back to how it was before, before prison, when he’d walked around Preston’s cool apartment, with its shiny floors and up-to-date everything. The fastest internet he’d ever experienced. The softest bed.

It had been amazing until it became a bed of misery because Preston simply didn’t care about anyone but Preston.

“Stop, Preston, please—” The begging felt so familiar, in a nasty, welcome-home kind of way, and Cal took a breath, mind racing to figure out what he should do now, now that his original plan had failed so spectacularly.

It was then that he saw Zeke step from the woods, hatless as he limped into the sunshine-drenched parking lot.

He had a rifle in his hands, and was raising it to brace it against his shoulder so he could look through the scope at his intended target. The way he’d done with the bears, the way he’d done when he’d shot at them to chase them away. He’d shot wide then, but would he do that now?

“Preston, let go of me.” Cal tried again, keeping an eye on Zeke even as he struggled.

“Preston,” snapped Zeke. He moved a little closer, keeping the rifle up and braced. “Let him go.”

“Fuck off,” said Preston, not even looking at Zeke or the rifle he carried. Preston never cared what anyone else thought or wanted. Never could, never would.

“If you don’t want to lose that kneecap, I’d let Cal go.” Zeke’s voice was perfectly calm and low and smooth. Like he did this every day of his life. “Let him go or you’ll be crawling in that car before you drive away.”

“Preston,” hissed Cal, desperate that it should not come to this. “Let me go. Preston .”

Preston let him go with a shove to the ground, gravel digging into Cal’s kneecaps and palms.

“Come over here, Cal,” said Zeke.

Zeke was about ten feet away and closing in with slow steps, rifle still raised, that angry focus so terrible, so scary, to see.

Cal obediently crawled until he could push himself up. He and he raced to Zeke’s side, to stand right next to him, his hand on Zeke’s arm, the one that had a finger curled on the trigger.

“Zeke,” he said.

He was up close and could see the hard glitter in Zeke’s green eyes, the firmness of his jaw. The flare of his nostrils. All of this was so unlike him that Cal didn’t quite know what he should do. He should stop this madness, of course, but how?

“Don’t shoot him. He’s not worth it,” Cal said, and if he sounded like he was begging, he simply didn’t care. He placed a hand on Zeke’s arm, fingers curled gently around the iron-hard bicep. Imperceptibly, Zeke was shaking. “If you shoot him, you might go to jail.”

“Then I’ll go to jail.” Zeke’s mouth barely moved as he spoke, utterly calm, as if he’d be willing to serve a hard sentence in jail, all to protect Cal from further abuse.

If Cal had ever imagined Zeke might think Cal deserved what he got by being in a relationship with Preston, it was obvious Zeke did not think that. He was trying to set Cal free from his past, only this wasn’t the way.

Up to that point, nothing Cal had tried to get away from Preston had worked. He’d tried taking a break, thinking to stay in a hotel for a few nights, but Preston had stopped him. His escape attempts hadn’t worked, and he wasn’t even counting the half-hearted times he’d tried sticking up for himself.

His big plan had been to get himself arrested, and for a while prison had been better than living with Preston.

He’d thought that would be the end of it. Only now the nightmare was in full force, right in front of him, bringing Zeke to the edge of violence that was so unlike him, it was shocking.

He didn’t know what to do, except try the one thing he’d never done. Tell the truth. Ask for help.

“He’s abusive, Zeke,” Cal said, then he licked his lips, which felt incredibly dry. “He drew me in. It was great at first, and then years later, I got myself arrested on purpose just to get away from him.”

Preston could hear all of this. His eyes were very wide, but at least he was focused on Cal now, and not Zeke.

As for Zeke, he flicked a glance at Cal, then resettled the rifle against his shoulder.

“Stopping him this way won’t work—it’ll only escalate.” Taking a breath, Cal steadied himself, shaking all over as he was. “If you shoot him and don’t kill him, he’ll come after you. If you shoot him and kill him, you’ll end up in jail. Neither is going to work. I need to think of a different way, but I can’t do that if you’re aiming a rifle at Preston.”

Zeke’s body relaxed, though the rifle remained where it was, cocked and ready to go. Then he said, quite softly. “ We need to think of a way.” Zeke nodded without taking his eyes off Preston and took his finger off the trigger. “You’re not alone any more, Cal. You’re with me and I’m with you.”

“Then we’ll think of a way.”

Cal’s heart was just about bursting out of his chest. With Zeke in his life, at his side, anything was possible. He just needed to pull them both out of this situation. Then he was going to pull Zeke into his arms, hold him tight, and never let him go.

“We’ll think of a way, but first put that rifle down.”

After a long moment that seemed to stretch out while Cal’s heartbeat thudded in his ears, Zeke uncurled his finger from around the trigger, and lowered the rifle from his shoulder.

In an instant, Preston jumped into the blue BMW, gunned the engine, and raced out of the parking lot, headed toward the switchbacks.

With a shaky breath, Zeke stood the rifle down, wiped his forearm across his forehead, then swiped his dark hair back from his eyes.

He was white under his tan as he looked at Cal, eyes wide, as if shocked at his own actions

At least the danger had passed. The most immediate danger. The aftermath was still to come. In the meantime, he needed Zeke as close to him as he could possibly get. He reached for Zeke, but Zeke held up his hand.

“Wait a minute,” said Zeke.

Zeke placed the rifle in the crook of his elbow and pulled the bolt back. Taking out the two bullets that were in there, he shifted the rifle to look inside, checking for bullets, it seemed. Then he handed the bullets to Cal.

“Hold on to those,” he said as he lowered the rifle again. “I have no idea what Gabe is going to say. Or even Leland.”

“I can’t tell you what either of them will say,” said a voice behind them. “But someone can thank me for calling Sheriff Lamont.”

Both Cal and Zeke turned.

Galen had stepped out of the woods and into the clear-skied area of the parking lot. Behind him was his team, every last one of them a witness to the scene that Cal knew he’d spend his life erasing out of his memory. No one had died or even been wounded, a miracle really, but there was still the fallout to be dealt with.

“He was protecting me,” said Cal, stepping away, stepping in front of Zeke. “That’s all this was. Nobody got hurt.”

“Somebody could have been,” said Galen. He came up to them, his team close behind like a contingency of bodyguards. “Sheriff Lamont said he wants to know who this guy is before he catches up to him. There’s only the one road out of the valley, so he figures it’ll be a straight shot to get him. I’ll call him if you can give me that information.”

Cal had spent years not telling anyone the truth of their relationship, but now with five witnesses, he was going to have to say it out loud. He didn’t want to, but one look at Zeke made him feel brave.

“His name is Preston Davies. He’s from Denver. He’s been my boyfriend since college. At first it was good—” His chest tightened at the memory of it because it had been good. At least for a while. “And then he got mean. Taking control. It was his way or the highway and if I stepped out of line, he would smack me around. Or worse.”

Zeke visibly flinched at that last confession, and Cal was glad Preston was out of sight, because Zeke looked like he regretted not pulling that trigger. Or maybe he didn’t. Everything was whirling in Cal’s head, but at least the truth was out.

“I couldn’t get away,” he said. “I tried a few times, and in the end, I got myself arrested, just to get away from him.”

“That sounds shitty,” said Bede, not mincing words.

Galen drew his cell phone out of his back pocket and made a call. Inside of a few minutes, he gave Sheriff Lamont the information, and was about to close the call when he paused.

“Sure, I’ll wait.” Tucking the phone against his chest, Galen said, “He’s checking some database?—”

Cal went cold all over. If it was bad before, it had gotten worse because Preston was now in the spotlight in the exact way he never wanted to be. Anyone involved would be on his shit list, starting with Cal. He could never run fast enough to get away from Preston’s rage for that.

Galen held the cell phone hard to his ear, squinting as if that would make the conversation he was having more clear. “What’s a BOLO?” He pulled the phone away and looked at all of them. “What the hell’s a BOLO?”

Behind him, his team shifted because obviously it was something to do with criminals and every single parolee knew the answer to that. Toby even raised his hand.

Cal even knew what BOLO meant: Be on the lookout .

Still, it was a shock to hear Galen say out loud as he raised his head, “He’s on a wanted list. Something about embezzlement?”

With a gasp, Cal knew exactly why Preston had a BOLO out for him. Preston had urged Cal to steal from the people he was helping online. Preston had taken a single glance at Cal’s computer and told him to sweep up logins and passwords—and to steal.

Preston had known how to do it, which meant that he’d been doing it. Which was where all the fine things Preston had owned come from. Web designers only made so much, even in Denver. Certainly not enough to afford that lovely townhome.

Cal had been stupid not to see it before now, but he’d been too overwhelmed by his own miseries to understand what Preston had been up to.

Zeke looked at Cal. “Embezzlement?” he asked.

“I had no idea. I didn’t.” Cal shifted closer. “I do now.”

He knew so much more than he did the day he’d figured out how to remove himself from Preston’s orbit. That this was better, Zeke and him. Anything with Zeke would be better. Even if he had to go to jail again because he’d been the unwitting recipient of embezzled money.

Galen listened to the sheriff on the other end of the line, his eyebrows going up into his hairline. Then, with a small snort of astonishment, he ended the call.

“It’s out of our hands,” he said. “Embezzlement tops trespassing and assault.”

He and Bede looked at each other like they wanted to make a joke out of the whole thing, as was their way, but Cal never felt less like laughing.

He took the rifle from Zeke’s hands and handed it to Galen, then flung his arms around Zeke, tight, like he meant never to let go.

He might have to go to court and testify, but that mattered less than that moment. His arms went around Zeke, and in front of witnesses, Zeke’s arms came around him.

Zeke was hot, like he was cooling down from almost pulling the trigger. And maybe he was shy about demonstrating how he felt about Cal in front of other men, but he did not let go, either.

Then Zeke pulled back and cupped Cal’s face in his hands and kissed him, a slow, careful kiss. With witnesses.

Cal flung his arms around Zeke’s neck and hugged him hard, then let go with a little laugh.

“Now everybody knows,” he said. “Hope that’s okay.”

“I reckon it is,” said Zeke. “I reckon it is.”