Free Cross Fire (Padre Knights MC Book 3) by Evelyn Glass

run themselves out, then wiped her eyes and carried everything into the living room on one of her grandmother's trays.  
     
    "I hope you don't mind me skipping the chat about the weather and asking after your health," he said as she picked up the tea. "I'm here to find out why in the world you're giving up."  
     
    Ali paused and thought for a moment. "It was over even before yesterday, Mr. Lathrop."  
     
    "Travis, please."  
     
    She nodded. "My business was ruined here. As soon as the story got out that some men who happen to be in a motorcycle club were helping with some improvements to my property, it was all over. I lost all my students that week, and even when I went back to Bobby and made things right with him, my students' parents had enough. I hoped for a long time I'd be able to work things out, but—" she shook her head. "It's not going to happen, and I need to be all right with that. I'm not even sure I'll stay in Arroyo Flats."  
     
    "Is there anything I can do to convince you to stay? Rebuild the program?"  
     
    Ali shook her head. And then the whole story poured out. Well, the edited version, anyway, but that included the dirty dealings of the Sheriff. His taste for very young girls included.  
     
    That was when Travis's face grew storm cloud black. "How do you know this?"  
     
    She told him about the gangs in town, and what the Padres had done to try to keep their hands as clean as they could. She told him about the shootout, and how the Sheriff had flipped sides, and how Alejandro had suggested that it had something do with the Sheriff wanting girls even younger than the ones he'd been able to find, who were usually of age but simply looked younger.  
     
    "It just so happens," Travis said, "That I'm good friends with the Attorney General in our lovely state. I will make some phone calls. It sounds like the people you've heard this from aren't the sort whose testimony will generally stand up in court?" 
     
    She thought of Pitbull up on the witness stand, with his shaved head and his tattoos. "Not likely," she replied.  
     
    "Then I'll take care of this." He placed his hand on Ali's, gently, not as an invitation, just as a comfort. "I hope I'm not sharing too much when I say that I had some personal experience with something of this nature when I was a child. There's a reason I fund what I do. And I will do whatever I can to make sure that this man can't prey on any more children."  
     
    "Thank you," Ali heard herself saying. "Thank you." Because it wasn't just about Arroyo Flats, and the Diablos needing to get out of town. It was also about the Sheriff being a foul piece of trash, and someone needing to stop him.  
     
    Travis accepted her thanks with a quiet nod. "And where will you go?"  
     
    Ali gave a ladylike shrug. "Somewhere around San Antonio, I think. I'm not sure yet. I'll need to see what's available."  
     
    "I'm sure it's occurred to you that your business model—animals helping troubled kids—is incredibly portable? And that it might even be more needed outside a city center like San Antonio?"  
     
    "They must have programs like this already, though," she said. "It took me years to piece together enough to make it work here, and even then I needed to supplement with regular riding lessons."  
     
    "There is a similar program in the area, it's true," he said. "It's actually within my portfolio. And it happens to need a new Director to expand and further develop the offerings. Interested?"  
     
    She could hear everything. The condensation beading up on the outside of her water glass. The ice clinking against the glass itself. The soft sound of Travis taking a cookie and munching on it thoughtfully. She could hear it all because she wasn't breathing. Even a little bit. "What are you offering me?"  
     
    "A job," he said. "If you want to keep the ranch here as an option for yourself, I'd even suggest that we keep it as a secondary location for