Free Trouble With the Law by Becky McGraw Page A

covers over her sweaty body, then stood back and pulled his wet t-shirt away from his chest.  She probably needed some water, or she was going to be dehydrated soon.  He headed to the kitchen to get her a glass.
    Seth was also pissed at Trace for getting involved out at that ranch.  He thought Trace should have just done his time, and restarted his life, instead of trying to help the feds take Leland down.  He said everything that Trace already knew.  He could be charged for interfering in a federal investigation, and attempted murder or negligent homicide if Carlos died.  He’d had to listen to it the entire two-hour drive to Sarah’s house on the outskirts of Muleshoe.  But then when they hit town, he offered to help Trace sort things out.   Trace told him to stay out of it.  If Seth got involved, Trace knew his friend would end up on the wrong end of things too.  Helping him like this was bad enough.
    Pulling down a glass of water, he filled it at the sink and walked back to the bedroom.  Seth walked in behind him.  Trace sat on the side of the bed and glanced back at him.  His friend’s frown and tight jaw told Trace something was up.  "What?"
    "They just issued an APB for you," Seth informed darkly.
    "Who did?" Trace asked.
    "The feds.  You're in deep shit, man.  And by osmosis, so am I if they find you here.  You won’t be able to stay long.  I don’t want Sarah involved."
    Trace swallowed hard.  "What're the charges?"
    "Kidnapping, felony assault on a federal officer, attempted murder—you name it, they want you for it.  It could get ugly too, because they tagged you as armed and dangerous."
    Trace sucked in a heavy breath.  "Guess that means I'm either going to end up dead or I’m heading back to the pen for something I actually did this time."  Nothing less than he expected when he did what he did at the ranch.  For the woman who had sent him there the first time.  It was kind of ironic.
    "Not if I can help it ," Seth said firmly.  Why don't you just call whoever assigned you out there and explain what happened?"
    "She's sleeping with the man I shot," Trace explained.  " She won’t be in a forgiving state of mind.  No matter the reason, I'm sure she wouldn't have authorized me to beat the shit out of the other agent for his gun either.  I'm a fucking felon.  I shouldn't have even had a gun.  Not to mention I screwed up her op.” Trace shook his head, before finishing, “I’m toast man.  There's nothing you can do to help me.  Just stay out of it."
    "That's what you told me last time , but I'm not buying it this time.  I'm going to help your sorry ass even if I bury my own in the process."
    "No!" Trace shouted then stood.  "I'll just stay here overnight, until Ronnie comes around, then I'm out of here."
    Trace knew that Seth felt guilty about not being at that shootout when Sean was killed.  He was supposed to be there, and thought if he had been things would have gone down differently.  The man couldn't help it if he had the fucking flu.  Nothing that happened that night had been Seth's fault.  And nothing would have ended differently if he had been there, except he would probably have gotten killed too.  Leland didn't want any witnesses other than the drug dealers he was paying off to frame and testify against his son.
    There was nothing he could do to help him this time either.
    "Let him help," Ronnie croaked weakly from the bed.
    Trace spun around to look at her.  Her eyes looked like there were bleeding, they were so red-rimmed and bloodshot.  He leaned in closer and saw that her pupils were so small he could barely see them in the center of her brown irises.  She was still high.  He sat down again and lifted her head to put the glass to her lips.  “Drink up,” he said holding her steady while she drank greedily. 
    She sighed and he eased her back on the pillow to ask, "How're you feeling, Red?"
    " Like I have weights on my arms and legs," she said trying