Read Online Montana Cowboy (Big Sky Mavericks Book 2) by Debra Salonen - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Debra Salonen
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explain. My side."
"Oh. Sure. Um... whatever you want to share."
He didn't like the hint of ennui in her voice. As if she'd already decided any kind of association with him was going to be too much work.
"I thought you might be worth the time and effort it's going to take to rehabilitate your public persona," Sheri told him in their last face-to-face conversation. "Apparently, I was wrong."
He shook his head. He'd made more mistakes where women were concerned this past year than anyone with his sort of experience had any right to claim. He didn't intend to let that happen this time.
"My last year of law school I clerked for a judge. A man I'd admired for many years. Unfortunately, clerking exposes you to a side of the law most people never see. The underbelly, so to speak." He'd discovered his idol wasn't immune to influence peddling, corruption, and the arm-twisting pressures of the good ol' boy network.
"I learned a lot. I lost any naiveté I'd brought with me from Montana. A couple of the lessons were painful and embarrassing. I've always been the kind of person who likes to win, so I decided if I was going to play for a winning team, I needed to adopt a new strategy and play by their rules."
"Even if the rules were wrong." Her flat tone sounded uncomfortably personal.
"Yes. That's how the game is played."
She didn't reply, so he went on. "After graduation, I was recruited by my mentor's close, personal friend, Jim Crandwell, a five-term Montana state senator. I was thrilled to be close to home and work for the state I love. Senator Crandwell—'Crandy' to his friends—is a larger-than-life sort of man, charismatic, with a golden tongue."
Austen had swallowed Crandy's line, lies and promises, like a hungry trout going for a fly.
"I liked the political life. The power. I made a name for myself as Crandy's Chief of Staff. I was an integral part of some important legislation. But every three years the circus comes to town—elections."
He glanced sideways. He couldn't read her expression in the dim light, which probably was a good thing. This was the part of his story where the interest he'd seen in her eyes would begin to dim. The only people the truth didn't bother were the people still inside. "Running an election campaign is a bit like being president of a fraternity. You have great intentions but the people you're working with don't always give a fuck." All they want is to win at any cost.
"Did you? Give a fuck?"
"I believed we were electing the right man. Not a great man. Hell, I knew from the beginning Jim wasn't a saint, but he played the game well, had connections he never spoke about but understood they had his back, and he got things done. I thought that was enough."
It didn't hurt that Jim's inside circle got the occasional stock tip or tickets to sky box seats at the Super Bowl. Austen justified the lucre because he didn't sit on the money. He put it back in circulation, buying new cars, a condo, the Flying Z. But in the quiet part of his soul, he'd known there'd be a price to pay someday.
"Somebody leaked a memo to the press. Proof that campaign funds were used to hire a prostitute for Crandy or someone on his staff. Finger pointing went into overdrive. I knew it wasn't me—I've never been with a prostitute in my life. Then Jenny came forward. Whether someone threatened her, or bribed her, or she actually believed what she told the grand jury looking into campaign fraud, I'll never know. I know she was mad at me for not giving her allegations more credence. She'd been giving me the cold shoulder for weeks. For whatever reason, she told me she admitted under oath that I authorized the expense. I was hung out to dry."
Serena murmured something that sounded like sympathy—the last thing his ego needed or wanted. He wasn't an innocent victim. Nor was he a villain. He told himself he was a decent human being who made the mistake of believing his own press.
"Attention shifted from the main story to
"Oh. Sure. Um... whatever you want to share."
He didn't like the hint of ennui in her voice. As if she'd already decided any kind of association with him was going to be too much work.
"I thought you might be worth the time and effort it's going to take to rehabilitate your public persona," Sheri told him in their last face-to-face conversation. "Apparently, I was wrong."
He shook his head. He'd made more mistakes where women were concerned this past year than anyone with his sort of experience had any right to claim. He didn't intend to let that happen this time.
"My last year of law school I clerked for a judge. A man I'd admired for many years. Unfortunately, clerking exposes you to a side of the law most people never see. The underbelly, so to speak." He'd discovered his idol wasn't immune to influence peddling, corruption, and the arm-twisting pressures of the good ol' boy network.
"I learned a lot. I lost any naiveté I'd brought with me from Montana. A couple of the lessons were painful and embarrassing. I've always been the kind of person who likes to win, so I decided if I was going to play for a winning team, I needed to adopt a new strategy and play by their rules."
"Even if the rules were wrong." Her flat tone sounded uncomfortably personal.
"Yes. That's how the game is played."
She didn't reply, so he went on. "After graduation, I was recruited by my mentor's close, personal friend, Jim Crandwell, a five-term Montana state senator. I was thrilled to be close to home and work for the state I love. Senator Crandwell—'Crandy' to his friends—is a larger-than-life sort of man, charismatic, with a golden tongue."
Austen had swallowed Crandy's line, lies and promises, like a hungry trout going for a fly.
"I liked the political life. The power. I made a name for myself as Crandy's Chief of Staff. I was an integral part of some important legislation. But every three years the circus comes to town—elections."
He glanced sideways. He couldn't read her expression in the dim light, which probably was a good thing. This was the part of his story where the interest he'd seen in her eyes would begin to dim. The only people the truth didn't bother were the people still inside. "Running an election campaign is a bit like being president of a fraternity. You have great intentions but the people you're working with don't always give a fuck." All they want is to win at any cost.
"Did you? Give a fuck?"
"I believed we were electing the right man. Not a great man. Hell, I knew from the beginning Jim wasn't a saint, but he played the game well, had connections he never spoke about but understood they had his back, and he got things done. I thought that was enough."
It didn't hurt that Jim's inside circle got the occasional stock tip or tickets to sky box seats at the Super Bowl. Austen justified the lucre because he didn't sit on the money. He put it back in circulation, buying new cars, a condo, the Flying Z. But in the quiet part of his soul, he'd known there'd be a price to pay someday.
"Somebody leaked a memo to the press. Proof that campaign funds were used to hire a prostitute for Crandy or someone on his staff. Finger pointing went into overdrive. I knew it wasn't me—I've never been with a prostitute in my life. Then Jenny came forward. Whether someone threatened her, or bribed her, or she actually believed what she told the grand jury looking into campaign fraud, I'll never know. I know she was mad at me for not giving her allegations more credence. She'd been giving me the cold shoulder for weeks. For whatever reason, she told me she admitted under oath that I authorized the expense. I was hung out to dry."
Serena murmured something that sounded like sympathy—the last thing his ego needed or wanted. He wasn't an innocent victim. Nor was he a villain. He told himself he was a decent human being who made the mistake of believing his own press.
"Attention shifted from the main story to
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