New Sheriff In Town (Shifters of Padston #1)

1. Chapter 1 - Chayce

Chapter 1 - Chayce

T he crackle of my radio breaks the silence in my truck.

“Sheriff…” Nora, our office secretary and dispatcher, calls out.

“Go ahead, Nora,” I respond, trying to come across as neutral while keeping my fingers crossed that this call isn’t one common for a Friday night in Padston, New York.

Our tiny town, located just over the Pennsylvania border, east of Lake Erie, is typically quiet. Most of the population is some type of paranormal and we stick to ourselves. The primary population of residents, both male and female, are unmated. A few humans live here, but most are mates, fully aware of our extra-special abilities.

“A call just came in from the Whiskey Genie.” Nora’s voice breaks through again, and my shoulders fall in exasperation.

“Son of a bitch,” I mutter, tuning out part of the call.

“…Palmer and Dalton Cannon.”

Flipping my lights on and doing a U-turn in the middle of the narrow street, I aim my truck toward the only bar in town.

“On my way, Nora,” I acknowledge after keying the microphone. “Are any of my brothers around for backup?” Since missing most of the dispatch, I have no idea exactly what I am walking into.

“Yes, Sheriff. Brady is waiting for you on scene,” Nora says, causing me to sigh in relief.

“Thanks, Nora, on my way,” I say flatly.

The middle of winter in a remote mountain town has its own set of trials. More than just snow. With hunting season in full swing, it makes running in our other forms difficult. Caging up an animal for any length of time, regardless of sharing a human body, tempers flare easily.

Padston has a small number of unmated females. All of whom are highly protected. Unfortunately for me, those same protected females are usually the ones strumming up the trouble. It has yet to be determined if it’s intentional, due to boredom, or accidental.

Coming to a stop in front of the Whiskey Genie, I take a deep breath before getting out of the truck. As soon as the door closes, I notice my brother Brady, who is also one of my deputies, standing on the sidewalk.

Brady gives me a chin lift in greeting as we turn to face the front of the building. Shouts can be heard coming from inside, even without my advanced hearing.

Yanking the door open in annoyance, the yelling only gets louder. I freeze in the doorway, accessing the situation. Brady almost runs into my back due to the abrupt stop.

“Keep your fucking paws off her!”

Hoyt Palmer yells at Dalton Cannon, pointing a finger into the man’s chest to punctuate his words.

Roree Martin, Hoyt’s cousin and one-third of the Martin triplets, stands behind him as he faces off against Dalton. She has a bored look on her face as she stares at her fingernails. Rhodee and Raelee, the other two of the trio, sip their drinks as they look on in fascination.

Scanning the room briefly, I notice the rest of the crowd pretty much doing the same thing as they enjoy tonight’s show.

Focusing my attention back on the men in front of me, I notice Dalton’s eyes flash yellow, indicating his wolf is very close to the surface. Brady steps toward Dalton as I approach Hoyt. Neither of them has detected our presence yet, too focused on each other. As soon as Hoyt realizes we are here, his shoulders sag. Spinning around, giving me his back, he immediately puts his hands behind him.

This, unfortunately, happens often enough that they all know the drill. The guilty party spends the night in jail, paying a hundred-dollar fine. In the morning, after cooler heads have prevailed, they go free. If they resist or break anything, the situation becomes altogether different.

A chorus of awws rings out as Brady and I escort our two troublemakers down the street to the jail. Their alphas will be called in the morning.

Once our overnight guests are settled, I head to my office and start my reports. Brady, bless his heart, sets a fresh cup of coffee on my desk before lowering himself into one of the chairs on the opposite side.

Looking up as I reach for the cup, his face is full of laughter. When he says nothing, his lips twitching, my curiosity gets the better of me.

“What’s so funny?”

“You really did have tunnel vision back there, didn’t you?” he asks, holding in his laughter.

Gulping down half the cup of coffee, I give him a minute to elaborate. My free hand spins in a circle, indicating that he get to the point.

“From what I can tell, they have started betting on the fights,” he finally says, looking at me expectantly.

Shrugging one shoulder, I respond after finishing the rest of my coffee and tossing the paper cup in the garbage can under my desk.

“There isn’t enough around here to keep them busy. Not yet, anyway. You know how it is. I need to pick my battles,” I pause, making a mental note to check on the construction sites for both the casino and baseball field. “Besides, they always run the weekly football pools. I can’t participate in one and condemn the other. If it becomes a problem, I will worry about it,” I say dismissively, with a wave of my hand.

My desk phone rings, cutting off any retort Brady was going to make.

“Sheriff Galloway…” I say after picking up the receiver.

“Hey, Sheriff, it’s Jorden D’Angelo.”

Jorden is the wolf beta for his brother Crispin. Pack lands make up a large section of town, butting up to the woods.

“Hey, Jorden. What can I do for you?” I ask, despite already suspecting the reason.

“One of the pack members said you picked up Dalton Cannon tonight at the Genie,” he says, as a statement as opposed to a question.

“As a matter of fact, I did. He was fighting with Hoyt Palmer. Something to do with Roree,” I confirm.

He heaves out a heavy sigh before responding.

“Okay,” Jorden says in response. His voice is a combination of resigned acceptance and annoyance. “Either myself or Crispin will be by in the morning to get him.”

“Sounds good, Jorden…”

He cuts me off before I can end the call.

“While I have you on the phone,” Jorden says cryptically, getting my full attention. “Crispin wanted me to mention…we have some foreign prints along the north edge of the pack lands.” I sit up straighter in my chair, garnering Brady’s attention at the movement. “We have increased the guards and patrols,” he continues. “The scent was too stale to track, but we wanted to make sure you are in the loop.”

Scrubbing a hand over my face, I notice Brady leaning forward in the chair before focusing my attention back on Jorden.

“Okay. I will have Adyr and Deakon take a look tomorrow,” I tell him, making a note to myself as a reminder.

“Sounds good, Sheriff. We will keep you updated if anything changes,” Jorden responds before disconnecting the call.

Brady stares at me expectantly. Falling back in my chair, my fingers drum absently on the edge of the desk.

“Not sure how much of that you heard”—pausing my thoughts for a moment—“the wolf pack found foreign prints, no scent, on the north edge of their land,” I tell him, my head running through a lot of different scenarios.

Brady blows out a breath before he speaks, reading my mind.

“That can’t be good…for any of us.”

“No,” I say vaguely as my eyes drift to the stack of resumes sitting on my desk. “The timing can’t get much worse either,” I finish.

Brady braces his elbows on his knees, clasping his hands together.

“Do you think these mysterious tracks are related to the new construction sites?” Brady asks, taking that exact thought right out of my head, again.

Blowing out a frustrated breath, the strumming of my fingers picks up, showing my irritation.

“I don’t know,” I finally answer.

Construction of the casino has been put on hold. The original builders ran into financial trouble and were forced to sell. The property is an eye-sore. A shell sits in the middle of a large mud pit.

My feelings on both projects are mixed. The tax revenue will help our small town. Our residents will make more money with the increased tourism. Some of us might find our mates in the process, but I am hesitant to hope.

All of those are positive things.

It’s the potential increase of crime that comes along with larger groups of people we aren’t prepared for. Needing to hire more deputies is urgent, as the four of us just won’t be enough anymore.

Hopefully, our quaint little town stays that way, but I won’t hold my breath.