Wrangled Mess by Reese Madison Page A

little minx.” He stopped short and turned back to the stove. “I knew you were going to be trouble the first time you smiled at me.” He complained.
    “Which was what? Three days ago now? We really need to slow down.”
    “Why? Are we going to get a ticket?”
    “Smart ass.”
    “How do you want your eggs?”
    “Over easy with a side of extra crisp bacon.”
     
    My show was a mix of my personal life and my callers. I didn’t mind the balance since it gave me an excuse to think and talk about Trace, and Bits.
    I explained simply that some relationships run their course, and for me it took someone else coming along to make me realize as much. I didn’t bad mouth Jackson, but I didn’t spend a lot of time on the subject. I don’t care so much about the fact that I come off as having replaced Jackson with another man. Steal from me, and I’m not so sympathetic to your reputation.
    My reputation didn’t take as big of a hit as I expected it to. My callers were supportive, and praised me for having the strength, and sense, to know it wasn’t working, and to get out. It felt good to know my fans supported me.
    I should probably tell my family more than my callers, but I haven’t had a chance to sit down and think about how to explain Trace to them.
    I tried to keep Trace’s identity a secret by only eluding to the fact that he works outside, and has a great body and long beautiful black hair. Things were going just fine until about three o’clock. An hour before the show was supposed to end.
    That’s when the door to the studio opened revealing Eddie, Slider, Joe, Salina, and Goat. Goat? What’s he doing here?
    I motioned for Barry to take us to commercial and set my headset on my desk. “What’s going on?”
    Eddie frowned as Goat pushed past him to snatch me by the arm and and pull me through the door, “You need to tell me everything you know about Jackson, right now.” He all but shoved me to the couch.
    I sat hard looking around for Trace, “Where’s Tra… Wrangler?”
    “He’s been shot.” Slider stepped forward. “I want to know everything you know. Everything from his shoe size to where he was born. Everything.”
    I put my hands to my heart knowing he’s alive, but had to ask. “Where’s Trace?”
    “In the hospital getting stitched up. He’ll be fine. This Jackson, is going to die. The guy who shot your old man, is from a rival club back east. A rival that would have no reason to come into this territory unless provoked, or paid. Guess who paid him?”
    “I… Robert… shit. Slider. I had no idea he’d go that far.”
    “I didn’t say you did, but you’re going to give me everything I need to bring this fucker down legally. If you don’t, you might as well dig his grave yourself.” Slider is pissed, and I’m scared out of my only pair of pink lace panties.
    “I’ll tell you everything I can. Will you take me to Trace?”
    “Prospects are bringing him here shortly. Salina, take notes. Joe, set up security on this place. If Wrangler is going to be staying here I want this house on lockdown. Nobody goes anywhere alone.”
    “Ro… Slider?” I asked when he turned away.
    He turned back, “What?”
    “Why would Jackson want to kill Trace?”
    “He wanted it to look like a club killing. Probably watches too much TV. What better way to push you away from the club, and right back into his arms? He marries you while you mourn, takes every dime you have. Probably sets you up for some crime, or kills you. Come on Celeste. You’re worth a lot of money, dead or alive.”
    “Not that much. Not enough to kill me.” I argued unable to believe someone would go through this much trouble, and would care so little about life, to kill me for my money. I know I’m trained to deal with people like this, but under my own roof??
    “Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe he’s just pissed off you dumped him for my brother. You’re the shrink. You tell me.” He turned and left me to his minions.
    I