Riley's chest tightened "I have to know she will be Jack's if anything happens to me. I don't want her going to Sarah and Elliot."
"I'm doing my best to find a legal solution."
"And what if we don't find one—"
"Riley, if anything happens to you, we can tie this up in courts until she reaches an age she is deemed capable of deciding for herself, but there is one other option."
"Which is?"
"Move to another state where the marriage and gay adoption petition are legal."
Riley didn't even hesitate. "I couldn't make Jack leave the D."
"Just a thought. Okay?"
"Thank you for doing this for us. I'll talk to Jack."
"Well, we need to call in the family law attorney dealing with all of this, but at least we have some idea of what we want here."
"Daddy! Grandpa!" Jack was helping Hayley off the horse, and as soon as her feet hit the ground, she was off running.
"Hayley, wait," Jack said firmly, and she spun on her heel. "You can't just run off. We need to be looking after Red now." Riley waited for the complaining, but instead, his daughter just threw him a bright wide grin and trotted back to Jack.
"Coming, Pappa." Together, the two of them led Red out of the gate and off to the stable.
"Jack's good with her," Jim commented, and placed a hand over Sandra's shoulders as she joined them at the fence.
"She called him Pappa," Sandra said.
"Yeah," Riley said simply. "It's cool."
C
HAPTER
16
The car that drove up to the D the next morning was, Jack imagined, some kind of FBI car. A dark sedan with blacked-out windows, there was no way of knowing who was inside. One person climbed from the passenger seat, an older guy with gray hair, wearing a dark suit and the shiniest black patent shoes Jack had ever seen on a ranch.
"I'm looking for Riley Campbell-Hayes," he said, and then stood with feet apart, his arms crossed over his chest.
"Can I ask who you are?" Jack planted his feet firmly. Feds on his land were not going to intimidate him. They stood in a battle of wills eyeball to eyeball until a cough separated them.
"Agent Jones, I assume?" Riley jumped the last two steps and offered a hand to the new guy.
"Mr Campbell-Hayes." The agent inclined his head.
"Call me Riley. This is my husband, Jack."
Jack narrowed his eyes at the casual introduction.
"I wonder if we could go somewhere to talk."
"We have coffee," Riley suggested conversationally, then turned to Jack. "We can use the good room, yeah?" Jack hesitated to answer. He wasn't sure he wanted Riley off in another room with someone who appeared armed and who was nothing more than a highlevel cop. "Jack is going to sit in on this." To give him his due, the agent didn't twitch one single muscle at this. "My daughter is at school…"
Riley was rambling, and Jack listened to him with half an ear. He indicated with a hand gesture that Agent Jones should precede him into the house, and after a few seconds of posturing, the man did as Jack wanted him to. Clearly, he didn't like having his back to anyone. Well, neither did Jack. Twenty years of bar fights had taught him one thing—you couldn't defend yourself if you couldn't see your opponent. That was why Jack was so damn good at bar fights, if he said so himself.
They settled in the room, three coffees in mugs on the table and an unopened box between them. Agent Jones opened it and pulled out a Rolex—very similar to the watch Riley already owned, all flash and platinum.
"There's no need for visible wires. There's a tracker inside the mechanics of the watch and a speech recorder. All you need to do is press the dial here—" He leaned forward and indicated the side of the Rolex, "—then get him talking."
"About what exactly?" Jack asked as Riley didn't seem inclined to do so.
"Two people have died, son," Jones began, and Jack bristled at the condescending tone in Jones's voice. "We have no leads other than the signatures of Jenkins, Jeff Hayes, and of course Riley, which he alleges isn't his—"
"It isn't his." Jack moved forward threateningly in his chair, and the tension inside him promised to jump out at any moment. The agent didn't even blink. Evidently he was semi-threatened by cowboys every day, and it didn't move him to react.
"We are fully aware of what is and isn't Riley's involvement in this case," the agent said, dismissing Jack with nothing more than an icy half smile. "We have set up the meet for today, midday at Cassis Allesandro." The agent named one of the most expensive, and equally discreet, restaurants in Dallas. "Get him talking about Jeff, about how you need to travel the same path, get names, anything, but get specific references to the documents and agreements from two thousand seven."
"I understand," Riley said.
He loosened his watch and dropped it to the table, a timepiece worth thousands of dollars sitting in between chipped coffee mugs. Jack realized, at that moment, he'd never felt so much dread pour through him. He looked on as Riley picked up the other watch and placed it on his wrist. He couldn't see much difference between the two.
"Nothing is going to happen there, Jack; I'm just going to talk."
Emotions trickled through him that Jack didn't want to begin to identify. Fear, resignation, and the utter desire to push Riley into a room and lock the door.
"He's talking, recording, and that's it? What then?"
"He pays the check and leaves. There will be surveillance on him at all times, but we don't actually think Jenkins is involved directly with the murders."
"You don't think?" Jack stood and began to pace. "You don't think he's involved with the murders?"
"Jack." Riley stood to join him. "All I have to do is a bit of acting, okay? They're recording from the watch, probably to some van outside. It's a quick in and out, and it will give them somewhere else to look for criminals away from Hayes."
"We can still just authenticate the documents they say you signed against your own handwriting—"
"It's gone past that. They're not forcing or blackmailing me—I want to do this. I want to close down all the doors that link me to back then."