Page 13 of Kings of Sherwood

The advantage of being a man of few words is how it practically invites other people to yap. And this guy’s a yapper.

“Yeah, ‘cuz it’sa biiiiig fuckin’ secret.” He waves his hands in the air like he’s casting a spell and snorts with sarcasm. “Wheatley’s pretending like he’s done some brilliant cover-up, but half the deputies are out here buyin’ girls drinks and telling them how they no-scoped a fuckin’ grizzly bear—”

I go stiff, tense, ears ringing. The axis of the room tilts.

My chatty friend barely notices.

“—never the brains of the operation anyway, and now that his DA buddy offed himself he doesn’t even have a daddy to go running to for help. Anyway, point is”—he picks upmywhiskeyfrom the bar, but he doesn’t notice and I don’t stop him—“the stink out of Sherwood’s finally gone downwind.”

“Meaning?” I dart another glance at the dance floor. Maren seems to have yanked Will over by his lapels, and her new girlfriends don’t seem too mad about it.

“Meaning they knocked us off the government teat,” he says. “No more state money to keep us in the black. Hence, no more hours. Hence, me being here instead of earning my damn overtime.”

Hence?Must be the kind of guy to get poetical when he’s loaded. I signal the bartender for two more—both for him.

“Why’s that Richmond’s problem?” I say. “Sheriff’s office is county-run.”

“And you think Sherwood County has any money?” He chortles, accepting his whiskey without even a thank you this time and slugging it back. “I know you’dthink,with all those taxes we pay and shit, but no. Wheatley’s been running a stuuuupid deficit for years. Mother Virginia’s been footing the bill to cover the costs...until she ain’t, I guess.” He picks up the second glass, but doesn’t drink just yet. Just mumbles into it.

I’m not sure if he meant me to understand him or not, but fuck it. “Come again?”

“I said this place deserves what’s coming to it,” he says, the red rising all the way up from his neck to his receding hairline. “Look, it ain’t even aboutmyfuckin’ paycheck, man. This place”—he gestures with his glass at the rest of the Crossbridge Inn, and I suppose the rest of Sherwood County—“is gonna go to shit. There is no one manning the store right now. When the cat’s away, the mice will fuckin’ play.” He breathes hard, catching up from his diatribe. Then looks a little sheepish. “Sorry, brother. Kinda get heated about it.”

“Ça roule,” I say. “All good.”

“Listen.” He leans in closer now, conspiratorial. “I know you said you weren’t LEO, but...forgive me, you’ve got the look of special ops about you, you know? You interested in a side job? Cash.” He fishes something out of his pocket, a folded piece of paper, scribbles down a number or something with a pen. “Trying to put some guys together. It’s kind of extra-legal, to be honest, but—”

I’ve heard enough. Last thing I need is to get tangled in someothercriminal conspiracy—one’s plenty.

“Sure, sure.” I get to my feet, slap my new friend on the shoulder, stuff the paper in my jacket pocket. “Take it easy, man.” He nods, mumbling thanks. I catch the bartender’s eye as I leave, mouthingwaterand pointing, and run smack into someone.

Her.

“LJ!” she gasps. Her hair swings into her eyes, and she scoops it away, revealing a loose smile and skin that’s flushed peach-pink and I bet tastes just as sweet. “Come dance!”

“No fuckin’ thank you.”

She pouts—shepouts—and teeters a little, which is when I realize she’s wearing the most ridiculous shoes, with several inches too many of heel. Black and studded, sure, but still.

Instinctively, my hands go to her upper arms, pinning her in place.

“C’mon,” she says. “Just...”

“This way.” I move her to the side, out of the way of foot traffic, to the other side of the busted cigarette machine where it’s at least a little quieter. Under the neon of a Miller High Life sign, her skin looks golden, dusted with a fine sheen of sweat.

My grip on her tightens.

“You’re drunk, Princess.”

She wrinkles her nose, tips her head slightly, the goddamn cutest thing, and pinches two fingers together in the air. “Maybe thiiiis much.”

I tense my jaw. Tense my everything.

“Are you mad?” she asks.

I’m not going to lie to her. “A little.”

But I do let her go.

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