27. Mace #2
Wolf leaned back.
“We could use you.”
“I just got here.”
“You didn’t lose your skills while driving around the country.”
“You haven’t seen me work in years.”
“I know who you are.”
“I’m not the same man.”
“None of us are.”
I looked toward the office door.
Dylan laughed in the dining room. Max’s ears moved toward the sound.
“What would I do?”
“Whatever needs doing until you decide what you want.”
“That isn’t a job description.”
“It’s the one we all started with.”
I rubbed a hand across my jaw.
Wolf waited.
He had always been good at that.
Most people rushed to fill the silence.
Wolf used it as a weapon.
“I don’t know how long I’m staying,” I said.
“Then work while you’re here.”
“What if I leave?”
“Your room will still be here.”
The answer hit harder than it should have.
I looked at him.
“You can’t keep waiting for me.”
“We weren’t waiting.”
“You put my name on the door.”
“Trigger, put your name on the door. I told him it was crooked.”
“It is.”
“We kept a place for you. That isn’t the same as waiting.”
I looked at the empty space among the photographs.
Wolf followed my gaze.
“Stay long enough to get in the next one.”
I didn’t answer.
He pushed a folder across the desk.
“Local rancher wants security cameras installed around his property. Nothing complicated. Blaze and Saint are going tomorrow.”
“You want me to go?”
“I want you to remember what it feels like to work with your brothers.”
That wasn’t fair.
Wolf had never cared about fair.
I opened the folder.
“When do we leave?”
“Seven.”
“In the morning?”
“That’s generally when seven happens.”
“You spend too much time with Nora.”
“She says I’m funnier now.”
“She lied.”
Wolf smiled.
Actually smiled.
Marriage had changed all of them. A two-year-old girl was playing on the floor.
I wasn’t sure whether that terrified me or made me jealous.
Probably both.
The tavern opened at eleven.
By eleven fifteen, every table was full.
I tried to stay upstairs.
Trigger found me.
“You’re working the bar.”
“I don’t work here.”
“You had a meeting with Wolf.”
“That was for the security company.”
“Same building. Same poor decisions.”
“I don’t know how to bartend.”
“You pour liquid into a glass.”
“I could do that in my room.”
Trigger handed me a black T-shirt with THE LAST STAND TAVERN printed across the front.
“I’m not wearing this.”
“Why?”
“It has your face on the back.”
He grinned. “Brand recognition.”
I turned it over.
A badly drawn picture of Trigger pointed toward the words ASK ME ABOUT LADIES’ NIGHT.
“No.”
“Wolf said you have to work.”
“Wolf didn’t say I had to wear your face.”
Rylie appeared behind him.
“Why is your face on a shirt?”
“Marketing.”
She took the shirt from me.
Trigger smiled. “You like it?”
“No.”
She dropped it into the trash.
Trigger stared after it.
“That cost twenty-two dollars.”
“You bought more than one?”
“Thirty.”
Rylie looked toward the ceiling as though asking for strength.
I liked her.
I understood why Trigger loved her.
Nora brought me a plain black tavern shirt.
“Try this one.”
“No faces?”
“No faces.”
I put it on and worked behind the bar.
I poured two beers incorrectly.
Opened a bottle of wine with part of the cork still inside it.
Gave the wrong drink to Mabel, who drank it anyway and declared it medicinal.
Then Max walked behind the bar and lay near my feet.
People began stopping to ask about him.
I told them not to pet him without permission.
Every person listened.
Max accepted attention from three children, an elderly man, and a woman carrying a purse large enough to hide a weapon.
He growled at Trigger twice.
By one o’clock, someone had placed a tip jar near Max.
It contained forty-three dollars.
My tip jar contained twelve.
“This town has poor judgment,” I said.
Trigger counted Max’s money. “He has better customer service.”
“He’s asleep.”
“Exactly. He isn’t scowling at anyone.”
“I don’t scowl.”
The woman sitting at the bar glanced at me.
“You do.”
“Thank you,” Trigger told her.
I considered leaving.
Then Dylan came behind the bar and asked if he could refill Max’s water bowl.
Nora brought me a sandwich from the kitchen.
Havoc complained that I stacked the glasses wrong, then showed me the right way.
Saint asked whether I wanted to join them for dinner.
Ace told me he had already moved my truck beneath the covered parking area because a storm was coming.
Nobody asked whether I was staying.
They simply acted as if I was.
By the time the tavern closed, my feet hurt more than they had after a twenty-mile march.
Trigger counted the register.
Wolf checked the locks.
Nora turned off the lights one section at a time.
I carried a trash bag outside with Max beside me.
The storm had passed without reaching town. The air smelled like rain, even though the pavement remained dry.
Main Street was quiet.
The lights above the tavern sign cast a warm circle across the porch.
Max sat beside me.
“You had a good day.”
His tail moved.
“You made more money than I did.”
It moved again.
“That isn’t funny.”
The door opened behind us.
Wolf stepped onto the porch.
“You leaving?”
I looked toward my truck.
For three years, my keys had remained in my pocket while I slept.
I always wanted to be ready.
To move.
To disappear.
“No,” I said. “Just taking out the trash.”
Wolf nodded as if it were the most ordinary answer in the world.
He went back inside.
I followed him upstairs.
When I reached my room, I removed my truck keys from my pocket.
For several seconds, I held them in my hand.
Then I placed them on the dresser.
Max climbed onto the bed.
I didn’t tell him to get down.
For the second night in a row, I stayed.
I hoped you enjoyed reading my Eagle River Rangers series.