The Rogue (Hideaway Springs #3)

Prologue

PROLOGUE

Three years ago

The sun hangs low, c asting long shadows over the sprawling fields of Hideaway Ranch.

My ranch.

My home.

I tighten my grip on the steering wheel, my calloused hands proof of the countless hours of work put into the land. A land I carved out of the wild seven years ago.

It was nothing but a stretch of earth when I first laid eyes on it.

A hidden treasure.

A future for my growing family.

Before I saw this place, I wanted to be a boxer like my father, Aiden Reeves. Travel, fight, and become a world champion.

But everything changed when Lilly told me she was pregnant. I didn’t want to leave either one of them for one moment .

As good a man as my father was to his wife and four boys, he was still absent for a good chunk of our upbringing because of his job.

I didn’t hate him for it. We were proud. He’d always look at me before he walked out of the house. A tiny wink reminding me to take care of my little brothers.

I always winked my promise back.

Until the day I didn’t.

The day he walked out after mom died. There was no fight. No championship to win. Nothing but his need to escape and grieve the only way he knew how. On the road. Where his boys couldn’t see him break down every time he thought of her, missed her, craved her.

I vowed to be better. Present. I was going to be a father to one hell of a little man, and I’d die before I missed one second of his life.

I proposed to Lilly—it was the right thing to do. Took every penny my mother left me in her will, bought this house and the land behind it.

Not a single regret.

That was years ago. A lot’s changed.

Lilly changed.

Dad came home for good, too. Got his act together. Not just with his family but with our community. After a hefty donation toward enhancements in our small town, he used what was left of his boxing fortune to buy Hideaway Springs Inn—the only hotel in town—and renovated it to be more than just a place to stay. But a place to bring people together. Starting with the lobby, which he turned into a bar open to the public, not just hotel guests.

It's where I’m headed now.

Sliding on my sunglasses, I raise the window and turn up the AC in my truck. Jackson—my six-year-old pride and joy—wiggles in the passenger’s seat .

I can’t help but smile at the kid’s boundless energy. Always looking for our next adventure.

That’s what I tell him in the summers. He’s on an adventure with Dad. Summer camp is boring. Swimming pools are contaminated. Arts and crafts are for winter.

All of which is a hell of a better reason than, “ Well, son, you can’t go to summer camp because I don’t trust your mother not to come and pull you out of there outside her visitation days .”

My ex-wife barely gave motherhood a chance before she decided to play Where’s Waldo , disappearing and reappearing like it was some game.

The private school he attends during the year is different. They know the drama with Lilly. They run a tight ship when it comes to releasing children.

Our one camp in town operates a little more…informally.

And I’m not taking chances with the one person on this green earth I care more about than my next breath.

“Dad, do you think Sheriff Woody will let me see the jail cells?” Jackson asks, his eyes wide with curiosity.

I chuckle the way only this kid knows how to make me. “You know his name isn’t Woody, right, bud?”

“But he looks like Woody from Toy Story. And he’s a sheriff.”

“I wear a cowboy hat sometimes. Does that make me look like Woody?”

“No. You’re daddy. You look like my dad.”

For some reason, that makes me smile. I want to be that safe space for him. But it quickly fades when I need to break the news to him.

“Actually, bud, I gotta take you to Grandpa’s. Sheriff and I are just having a quick bite at the station to talk about security in town.”

“Why? ”

My chest tightens.

Good question.

Hideaway Springs was never perfect and quiet. We’ve had our fair share of newsworthy crimes. But over the last few months, surrounding towns have had an uptick in graffiti, vandalism, and auto theft—not just petty theft, like stolen bikes. We’re talking residences and businesses that have been victims of late-night break-ins and shootings.

And I’m not sitting back and waiting for it to start happening here .

We drive out of the fields and onto the streets of our small town. I turn onto Main Street, lined with familiar shops. Their once colorful awnings now worn and distressed, showing their age.

Most of these small-town shop owners refuse to raise prices to keep up with inflation. Appearances are usually the first to go where a budget is concerned. Never the quality service.

It’s noble but not very sustainable.

It's become one of the main topics of conversation at Sunday dinners at Dad’s. My brothers and I trade updates on shops we check in on from time to time to make sure people are staying afloat.

I’m the oldest of four. Second to me is Noah, the town lawyer. He’s not the only town lawyer, but sure as hell acts like he is, taking nearly every case brought to him. If you’re a broke town resident in a jam, you’re almost guaranteed a pro bono attorney to take you on.

Chase is the hockey player. A sport he’d spend hours on Hideaway Springs Lake perfecting in the winters. Never would have imagined he’d go pro, but here he is, playing center for the Denver Kings hockey team.

Then there’s Elliot, the youngest. He’s still in college, but at least he’s close enough for us to keep an eye on him. He’s the only one out of all of us who doesn’t remember Mom during her good days before she got sick. He’s quiet, guarded, and to be honest, I never really know what’s going on in his head. Chase seems to be the only one who connects with him on a deeper level.

“Tell ya what,” I start with the good news as usual. “Let me see if I can sweet talk Sheriff Bradshaw into letting me bring you along next week. He can show you around then. But for now—”

“Grandpa’s?” he grumbles.

“Aww, come on. You two always have fun together,” I remind him, glancing between the road and my son. Seeing he’s not convinced, I sweeten the deal. “And when I pick you up, I won’t ask if you had an ice cream sundae two days in a row.”

He considers for a hot second, then nods curtly in agreement—not giving away that he’s getting the better end. Just like I’ve taught him. “Deal.”

I pull onto the gravel lot of Hideaway Springs Inn. Elliot’s outside, releasing smoke from his mouth before flicking his cigarette down and crushing it with his heel. His grin is wide as I pull to a stop and roll down my window.

“He-ey,” he calls cheerily, crossing to my truck and searching for Jackson. “Where’s my favorite little man?”

Jackson struggles with his seatbelt before jumping out. “I’m here. And I’m not little.”

Elliot rolls his eyes. “Yeah, good luck with that, kid. I was the little one for thirteen years, so you've got a long way to go.”

Dad steps out and gives me a quick nod before wrapping my kid in a giant bear hug. “’Bout time you got here.” Then whispers something I’m not intended to hear before taking him inside, making my kid giggle with excitement.

I’m still in the driver’s seat, a hard scowl as my eyes flick to the cigarette on the floor. “What’s that shit about?”

He sucks his teeth. “I’m in college. Everyone smokes in college. ”

I pull out my phone.

“What?” he sighs melodramatically.

“I’m fact-checking you.”

“Well, don’t. I don’t need all of you to keep parenting me just because you all got nothin’ better to do.”

“I’m messin’ with you. Just keep it to a minimum, okay? I’d like to keep you—and your lungs—around for a long time.”

“I’m fine.”

“Thanks for watchin’ him for me again.”

He shrugs. “It’s all good. Dad and I were expecting him. See you later.”

Worry gnaws at me as I drive away, and I need to remind myself this isn’t the same thing. I’m not abandoning my son the way my ex-wife did. The way Dad did.

But these drop-offs are becoming too frequent and it’s only a matter of time before Jackson notices. Before he starts thinking I don’t have time for him.

That anything is more important than him.

It’s not.

Nothing will ever be more important than him and keeping him safe.

Part of my meeting with the sheriff today is to see how the Reeves family can help keep crime down. The other is finding out exactly what preventative measures they have in place. Because if anyone with an ounce of no-good shows up in my town, I will personally run them out.

“Little late for lunch.” Hideaway Springs town sheriff, Wyatt Bradshaw, grumbles as I hop out of my truck and walk toward the police station.

“Did you at least save me any donuts?” I ask as I follow him into the air-conditioned building. It’s modest, like everything else in Hideaway Springs, but serves its purpose.

The smell of bad coffee and a burnt-out copy machine fills the lobby as we make our way to his office.

“You get quotes for the new security system?” I jump to the point of my visit.

Wyatt shakes his head with a grunt. “We uh…we’ll need to put that off for a while.”

“Put it off? Thought you said you’d fit it into next month’s budget?”

“We were counting on funds from parking violation payments, speeding tickets and such to cover the cost.”

“And?”

“There aren’t any,” he answers tightly.

That doesn’t add up. “Isn’t that a good thing? I mean on the bright side—”

“No bright side. We had over a hundred and fifty tickets last month. All gone.”

“I’m not following.”

He glances at the glass-enclosed room. Several tan-uniformed officers crowd a young woman. I can’t see her face since she’s sitting in a chair facing away from us.

But the situation is as clear as the glass wall—she’s being interrogated.

I remove my hat. Legs pulled in her direction. Wild and curly auburn hair hangs down to the middle of her back. And when she pushes off her chair, my eyes dip down the rest of her .

She’s slender with a heart-shaped ass in fitted blue jeans. Skin that looks smooth enough to touch is exposed from the hem of a crunched-up plaid shirt tied at the waist.

An officer twice her size pushes her back down, and I’m on the move—weaving across the cubicle-crowded floor.

“Hell is going on in there?” I call out like I’m in charge.

“That’s Tessa Banks—a recent new hire and the reason we’re low on funds for the security initiative.”

“Theft?”

He sighs. “No. Messed with the computer. Somehow deleting all pending and delinquent violations in our system.”

“On purpose ?”

“Probably. Holding her until we figure it out.” Wyatt sighs with frustration.

“I’ll help,” I tell him—no question in my tone.

He gives me a hard glare. “Levi, we’ve been over this. I appreciate your help, but you don’t have a badge. I’ve already broken all kinds of policies keeping you in the loop here, but—”

I put my hands up in defense. “I hear ya.” I glance to my right. “But doesn’t look like your boys are gettin’ anywhere over there. Perhaps someone without authority will minimize tension.”

He grunts, running a hand down his face. “Suppose it couldn’t hurt. Think the others are too charmed by Little Miss Country.”

Sure didn’t look like the man who pressed an unwelcome hand on her shoulder was too charmed . Fucker practically shoved her down like she’s a criminal.

I follow Wyatt into the room, hanging my hat on the hook by the door. The woman he referred to as Tessa earlier glances at the newcomers and does a double-take when she sees me.

“Who’s the stray? ”

Sheriff crosses to the front of the room. “This is Levi Reeves. Local rancher and a good friend of the police department.”

I’d have answered for myself, but I’m too busy catching the breath this woman stole from me when I circled the room to stand before her.

Chestnut hair frames a beautifully freckled face—full pink lips, bright golden-brown eyes—whiskey eyes.

And a smirk that tells me she’s guilty as fuck.

I clear my throat, breaking the spell. But not my eyes, which are held tight by her fiercely determined ones.

The Sheriff nods his officers out of the room as I take a seat on the other side of the table.

Her cocky smirk widens as she leans forward. “Clever. Sitting across from me instead of hovering over my shoulder.”

“Thought your neck could use a break.”

She assesses me, then leans back in the chair. “So, no uniform, no badge. And I’m supposed to answer to you?” She releases a breathy laugh, brightening her face.

My reply is tight. “Tampering with police files isn’t something to smile about.”

Even if I could watch it all day .

“No. But being innocent is.” She flashes me her pearly whites.

I keep my eyes on her. “Wyatt, I’ll be out in a minute with a confession. This won’t take long.”

He hesitates, then nods and steps out.

She folds her arms. “Exactly when does 'this won’t take long’ business start? After you’re done eye-fucking me or during?”

I smirk back, not bothering to deny it. “Look, I don’t work here. I’m not a cop, but I know a guilty face when I see one. My family and I make hefty annual donations to the station to ensure they can do their job with the necessary resources. ”

Whiskey Eyes stares back at me. I nearly lose my train of thought as I study every feature, wondering how I’ve never seen her here before.

“Sheriff is a good friend of mine. I tell him you’re innocent, he’ll let you walk out of here. Just answer me this. Was it a mistake?”

She looks me dead in the eye. “No.”

“There a reason you robbin’ the police station of income they depend on?”

No response other than a slight twitch of her brows as she considers it.

“Fine. I’ll take a guess.” I cross my arms and settle back in the metal chair. “You knew about the security plans for the town, so you and your buddies decided to sabotage it.”

She jerks, looking genuinely confused. “My buddies ?”

“The crimes in the other towns.”

She scoffs. “Paranoid much?”

“Protective,” I bite.

Straightening her spine, she glares back at me. “Did you know that traffic violations doubled in the last three months in this town? Did the population double? I don’t think so.” She extends a tattooed arm dramatically. And it catches my eye. A snake wrapped from her elbow down to her wrist. “Did driving laws just not exist before? Also no. I think it’s a little unjust for the department to take out low funding issues on innocent citizens.”

My eyes flick back to hers. And damn, she's one captivating woman. My chest burns when I realize who she reminds me of. I sit up. “What do you think happens when the department doesn’t have money? We lose good workers. Less overtime, less night shifts. Less motivated cops. Our town needs—”

“Then do something else. Raise money for the cause. Tell them what it’s for. Don’t just slap tickets on cars. ”

I’m one heartbeat away from smashing my mouth against hers. “Where’d you come from, anyway? Never seen you around.”

She rolls her eyes. “Don’t worry, Indiana Jones. I won’t be sticking around.”

“Oh, you think you’re walkin’ out of here? After they slap those fines on you—you’re going to prison. That kind of shit ain’t—”

Sheriff steps back into the room, exasperated. “Tessa, you’re free to go.”

“What?” I bark. “I just got a confession.”

Wyatt ignores me as Tessa stands with a bored sigh.

“Unfortunately, you can’t keep your employment here so—”

“Got it,” she cuts him off and mutters a quick 'thanks' on her way out of the room.

“And Tessa?” He clears his throat uncomfortably. “Hideaway Springs is—well, you’re welcome here anytime.”

She considers it, grins to herself, and nods once. “Cool. Thanks again, Woody.”

My head snaps at the nickname.

Turning on her heel, she moves to a desk I can only assume was hers, and tosses a few items into a large tote bag.

I grab Wyatt’s arm. “You wanna tell me what that was about? She did it—she’s guilty.”

He doesn’t look me in the eye. “Appreciate you stopping by today, Levi. I need to go uh…” He clears his throat again, muttering damage control on the way to his office.

The fuck?

I turn, finding Tessa halfway out the door and race after her until we’re both outside. “You think you’re some kind of hero?”

Her eyes drop, but she keeps walking. “No. ”

“Then stop acting like one.” I slide my hat back on. “Do yourself a favor and stay away from Hideaway Springs. We don’t need rogues like you tryin’ to save the day.”

“No.”

“Excuse me?”

“I’m just getting started here, Indie.” She sweeps her gaze over me. “See you around.”

She disappeared after that. Only to pop into my head like a bad song I couldn’t shake.

And just like Lilly—smokey eyes, fiery red hair—Tessa Banks kept reappearing. She would stick around for a bit, cause more trouble, then take off like a squirrel caught ransacking your apartment.

She’s the kind of addictive trouble I don’t need.

The kind I won’t be tempted by ever again.