16
S lipping in through the side door of the Resurrection Sheriff Department, I glare at the box of donuts on the station desk and the cops gathered around them. Doesn’t do a thing for our damn image.
“Should be in the break room,” I mutter, passing them by.
“Morning, Montgomery.”
“Move,” I growl, leveling a finger at Topper, who blocks the path to my desk. This vantage point gives me a direct line of sight into The Corner Store. If Dakota leaves the building, I’ll see her. Anyone coming and going, I’ll be ready.
Leaving her alone today fucks with my nerves. She looked fragile when I dropped her off this afternoon. I’m not convinced she’s safe outside the walls of the ranch. A fact that renders me utterly fucking helpless. The feeling is like hot acid in my bloodstream.
Shrugging off my jacket, I settle in at my unofficial desk. I’m not a cop, but I like having one ear on the happenings of Resurrection. Better to be prepared.
A photo of my nieces sits next to a screwdriver, a busted old police-beacon light, and a thick stack of folders. I grab up the folders and start sorting them according to the case type. Least I can do is help out around the station when I can.
“Did you hear?” Topper asks, picking up a donut dusted in powdered sugar. “Gary Custer ran the stop sign at the Shawnee bypass. Slick as snot outside and he started sliding. Mick Anderson tried to miss him but…” Topper chuckles. “He gunned the gas instead of hitting the brakes. Drunk as a skunk.”
Small town gossip means nothing to me, yet I glance back into the hallway at the jail cell use to lock up drunks from the bars on Main Street. In the off-season, our tiny force tends to mostly deal with local drunks and car accidents. “When did you turn him loose?”
Topper shrugs. “Never locked him up.”
I shake my head at the miscarriage of justice. Topper’s an idiot.
At the squeak of boots, I rotate in my chair. “Need a favor,” I tell Richter, who’s on his way out.
“Fill out a form.”
“I need a tail on Koty McGraw.”
It’s shitty and shady, sending someone else to watch out for her, but I need all eyes on her. No chances. No surprises. Not with Dakota.
“Tailing Koty McGraw?” Richter chuckles, his brown eyes drifting to The Corner Store. “What’d that girl do?”
A chuckle from Topper. “Girl’s got you twisted up, Montgomery.”
I grit my teeth, resisting the urge to grab the box of donuts and smash it in his fucking face. “Did I ask for your opinion, Topper?”
My dark scowl has Topper blanching.
A smile twitches Richter’s mustache. He nods. “Fill out the form. We’ll get it done.”
“Think you can spare the manpower?” I ask dryly, arching a brow in the direction of the donut-devouring deputies.
“Alright, point taken, Montgomery.” Richter blasts a warning at Topper before drilling a finger at me. “Paperwork.”
I grunt, swallowing down my objections. Paperwork will be the death of me. Although, if it’s this or running referee between the McGraw sisters, I’d take paperwork any day of the week.
Once again, my gaze drifts to The Corner Store.
The woman makes me insane. Dakota trying to charm her way into one little kiss. The flash of fire in her eyes as she goaded me to touch her. Christ, if she knew what I wanted to do to her, she’d think better of it.
You don’t care about me. Dakota’s sad voice echoes in my head.
Her thinking I don’t want her makes me feel like a fucking piece of shit.
She’s wrong.
Because, hell, I’ve done some scary things in my life, but protecting Dakota fucks with the beat of my heart. If anything happens to her on my watch…
I sigh and drag a hand down the stubble grating my jaw.
The military taught me preparation and calm, but nothing could have prepared me for just how on edge I am. Ever since Koty McGraw sweet-talked her way into my life all those years ago, I’ve been on edge.
Shoving aside the earlier events of this morning, I fill out the fucking paperwork, leave it on my desk for Richter to sign, and log Cassie’s missing persons case into the database.
After I check Dakota’s tracker, making sure it’s working correctly and paired with my phone, I pull up the baby app I’ve downloaded.
I cast an eye around the office.
Christ, if anyone sees this…
Dakota’s twenty weeks today. Her baby is the size of a banana. The fruit comparison makes me chuckle as I scroll through the bright, cartoon images.
It’s not my right to get involved. But a little voice inside my head tells me I’m already involved. I couldn’t get out if I tried.
By the time I hit the end of the article, the chair in front of my desk screeches across the floor. My lanky little brother drops into it with a huff and swipes the beacon from my desk, turning it over in his hands like a melon.
I place my phone face down on the desk and ignore the eyebrow raise Deputy Parker is currently giving me. “What do you want, Wyatt?”
“Need to report a crime.”
I shuffle a few papers around, down the remainder of my cold coffee. At this point, it’s basically a race to see whether it’s a Dakota or a Wyatt aneurysm that finishes me off first. “Not my circus. Take it up with Topper.”
“Theft of my childhood. The night a big brother of mine left me sleeping out in the field.”
My head jerks up and I scowl. “That was over twenty years ago.”
“Yeah, well, what is time?”
“And I told you that wasn’t me. That was Ford.” I stretch a hand over my eyes to rub at my temples. Kid still drives me crazy, even at thirty-three years old. “What do you want?” I sound like a broken record.
“We’re stocking up on supplies to reno the ranch. Not like you’d know much about it, seeing as how you’re preoccupied.”
“I’m busy, but it’s my ranch too,” I bark, rolling out my shoulders. It pisses me off that my little brother thinks I’ve let my responsibilities slack. But most of all it pisses me off that he’s right. That Dakota’s safety usurps any of my concerns about the ranch.
“And why do you need me for this? Ask Charlie.”
“Can’t. Left Charlie at the hardware store. Lost Ruby in the antique store.”
No surprise. My family storming around Resurrection like a wild pack of marauders.
Wyatt folds his hands together, his face growing serious. “That cabin up at Eden—we bulldozing it or what?”
Eden is a property in a hard-to-find area behind Runaway Ranch.
While we use the cabin as a bunkhouse for groups or fishing excursions, it’s set back in the high forest. The only two access routes are a forty-five-minute drive over Dead Fred’s Curve or the shortcut behind the lodge up the old hiking trail.
It’s also the spot where Dakota and I started and ended.
Something soft burrows its way into my heart. Bulldozing memories to make room for one more building doesn’t sit right with me.
“Not sure yet,” I say gruffly. “Let me think about it.”
Wyatt shrugs. “If you want, I can handle it.”
I eye him shrewdly. “I don’t want another chicken shed fiasco.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
“When you blew up that building. What the fuck do you think I’m talking about?” I rub my brow at the memory. “Christ.”
Wyatt sits up in his seat, eagle eyes snagging on the folder. “Puttin’ a tail on Dakota?”
Goddamn it.
I grab up the folder, hit him with it. “Shut up.”
He cackles out a laugh, making my blood pressure rise, then sticks the screw driver into the beacon and pops off the battery cap.
“Think I could get one on Fallon? Girl keeps skippin’ practice.” Though his demeanor is easy, his voice holds a tight strain of tension.
“Ain’t skippin’ practice,” I tell him. Across the street I watch old Waylon Wiggins enter the store. I hope Koty isn’t getting put through the small-town third degree. “She’s just skippin’ yours.”
Wyatt’s head jerks up so fast I can’t be sure he didn’t get whiplash. “The fuck. With who?”
It’s a big brother asshole move, but if it gets him off my back about Dakota, I’ll pull the low blow.
“Not sure,” I say, sliding my laptop toward me and opening a case file. “She’s acting cagey about it. Don’t think Stede knows, so keep it on the down low. Guy doesn’t need any more stress.”
Wyatt’s head tips back to look at me, a sudden storm in his eyes.
“I don’t know what the hell that girl thinks she’s doing,” he grumbles.
“She’s gotta ride in the rough stock days, and she’s gonna be out of shape.
And when she comes crawling back next year, I’m gonna have a hell of a time whipping her ass into gear. ”
I snort, side-eyeing him.
Wyatt and Fallon’s petty rivalry might fool all of Resurrection, but they can’t fool me. I’ve been the fucking idiot keeping his mouth shut. I know where it got me, and if Wyatt continues down this stubborn path of denial, I know where it’ll get him.
Absolutely nothing.
Wyatt fidgets in his chair. “How can you sit here, man? Makes me itch.”
I rasp out a laugh, seeing that little rough and tumble ten-year-old I used to boss around on the ranch back in Georgia. “Patience, brother. It’s called patience.”
Wyatt has to be constantly on the move, on the back of a horse knocking his front teeth out or training his cowboys, but for me, the quiet, watchful chase is in my blood.
Stakeouts don’t bother me. Whether it’s taking up post in the dusty desert or in a small-town police station, the objective is always the same—to serve and protect.
This time, it’s someone I care about. The mission can’t go wrong. Not like the last time.
The void in my stomach opens. My jaw tightens. Shame flickers.
I’m alive. Breathing. I should be grateful. But all I can think of is Sully. My team. The night the earth opened up and swallowed everyone alive. The way I left a piece of me behind in that desert.
I fucked up. And it cost me everything.
It’s hard to remember that day. A special-ops mission only my team and my lieutenant knew about. It comes in fragments. Bright colors as loud as the explosion that knocked me away from my team. Panic. Blood. Chaos.
Adrenaline made me move. I crawled through dust and debris to get back to them. I found Sully first.
“They fucking shot me, man,” he gasped.
“Oh fuck.” Horrified, I took in the four bullets peppered across Sully’s chest. “Fuck.”
Sully wheezed a laugh. “That’s what I said, Captain.”
I hunkered next to him, trying to keep my brother’s blood in his body. “I know. Hang in there. Just fucking stay with me.” I looked to the sky for a chopper. But there was nothing, only that black shadow of helplessness growing inside of me.
Sully swallowed. “Must be a hell of a shot.”
“Don’t talk,” I told him, voice tremulous. I gripped his hand. Squeezed. “Save your energy.”
“Save your…speech, Montgomery…” Sully’s eyes dimmed. His voice thinned like a thread. “Say your goddamn prayers.”
“Fuck. You’ll be okay. You’ll make it.”
But he didn’t. Later, I found Ferraro, hunkered down in an old building. We were the only survivors.
That day, the shadow inside me took root.
And it followed me all the way to Resurrection.
“D?” Wyatt’s voice hammers like a drill in my head. He gives me a sideways glance. “You okay, man?”
Mustering as much composure as I can, I rise from my chair and move to the window. My heart pounds in my chest. I will it down to a normal level Ruby would approve of.
“Fine,” I grit out, curling one hand around my nape.
I can feel Wyatt’s questioning gaze burning a hole in my back.
Letting my brothers in is not an option. They don’t know or suspect what I’ve been through. What I’ve done.
I nearly jump out of my skin when the siren goes off.
“Fixed it,” Wyatt announces.
I whip around, hardening my expression.
“Yup, I’m going,” Wyatt drawls, picking up on the fact that he needs to get the fuck out of my vicinity before I unleash big brother bodily harm.
I close my eyes to draw in a long breath.
When I open them, Wyatt and the beacon are gone. So is the box of donuts.
I swear under my breath. It’s going to be a long goddamn day.