Page 5 of Home Town Knight

Jeez, what had I done to deserve some bloodsucking journalist on my case?

I supposed I did have some secrets. Friends of mine—Aiden Shelborne and Trace Novo—had formed a team called the Last Refuge Protectors, ex-military guys devoted tohelping people who had nowhere else to turn. Trace’s ex-CIA colleague River Kwon was their newest member, and they’d named me an honorary Protector as well. A title I took on only begrudgingly.

I’d come to consider them my brothers. But I had to keep a barrier between my knowledge and their activities. Because those activities weren’t always…legal.

Some details I didn’t know because I didn’twantto know. While I’d tried to rein them in, I’d also looked the other way a few times. On occasion, I’d bent the rules far enough they’d nearly snapped. But only to save lives and take down the worst of the worst. I would never jeopardize my oaths as sheriff for anything less.

Unfortunately, some journalist had been writing articles about my department since last year, questioning the way I’d handled recent controversies. Yes, I’d pushed the limits, but she’d twisted every little detail to make me look as nefarious as possible. According to her, I was running Hart County like my own personal fiefdom. As if I was protecting bad guys from prosecution and hiding rampant corruption. Never mind that she had no evidence. The real truth was complicated, but she didn’t care about that. She cared about creating a salacious story to satisfy her readers.

Just this morning, she’d called my office to demand an in-person meeting. That was why I’d had to cut short my time off and rush back here. I hadn’t wanted to add fuel to her fire by refusing to meet. Perhaps I also hadn’t minded the excuse to get away from my family and all that awkwardness. But this was hardly a reprieve.

The last thing I wanted to do was sit in a room with that Blake woman.

I knew enough already to dread what was coming. She had a history of taking down police officers and public officials. I hadn’t looked up the rest of her bio online because Ididn’t want anything to do with her. But I imagined a middle-aged librarian type. The Sunday School teacher of my nightmares, like the one who’d slapped my knuckles with a ruler when I was a kid and seemed to take unwarranted pleasure in it. The memory sent a shiver down to my toes.

“Something wrong?” the lovely woman beside me asked.

And here I was, obsessing over tomorrow’s meeting instead of enjoying her company. “Not at all. Mind was wandering. Can I buy you another drink? Your tea must’ve gone cold.”

She pondered my question, head tilting so strands of gold fell across her flawless cheek. “You’re having the IPA, right? Is it any good?”

“It is. I’d offer you a taste, but that’s probably too forward of me.”

To my surprise, she took my glass and sipped. “I like it. I’ll have one of those.” She licked her lower lip, my glass thunking onto the bar top as she set it down, and a pleasant sensation tugged in my belly.

My buddy had just returned to his spot behind the bar. Dean grinned smugly as he poured her beer, which I ignored.

She thanked him, then asked, “Did they calm down in the lobby? The brawlers?”

Dean nodded. “Yep. Especially once the night manager came out. He asked what started the argument, but they clammed up tight. The brawler in the yellow beanie gave me a hefty tip as an apology. He had a bankroll in his jacket.” He shrugged like that was only mildly interesting.

But Ms. Snowboots scowled, seemingly just as skeptical as I was. “He was handing outbribes?”

“Nah, nothing like that. He truly seemed sorry. Maybe he came into an inheritance and got a little carried away celebrating. I think they’re harmless. Loud, but harmless.”

I grumbled into my beer, but I didn’t disagree. Deandidn’t want me flashing my badge around and escalating the situation. So I had to let it go.

Ms. Snowboots cast a glance over her shoulder at the door to the lobby. “I wonder what they were hunting. There’s not much in season in April. Mostly predators.”

I’d wondered that as well. If I’d arrested them, I would’ve asked to see their licenses. Big game like elk and deer was in season in Colorado in the fall and winter. Not spring. I was surprised she knew that, which was probably an unfair assumption on my part. “You hunt?”

“My dad was a hunter. I used to go out with him in the fall.”

I noticed the past tense. The wistful tone. “My dad hunted, too. I have great memories of being out with him as the sun came up. Mist over the mountains. The frigid air that smelled of earth and pines and something…untamable.”

Her glass froze on its way to her lips. “That’s it exactly. I haven’t been out in the woods like that in way too long. Too busy with work.”

“What do you do?”

Dean shook his head. “I think Tex meant to ask,What’s your name? Work isn’t the be-all and end-all of a person. I keep reminding him of that.”

I frowned at my nosy friend. But she laughed. “It’s okay. I’m Jen.” She hesitated. “I’m a writer.”

Short for Jennifer, I figured. Nothing wrong with that name. A classic. Yet I’d expected something more unique for her.

Dean saluted. “Nice to meet you, Jen.”

“Nice to meet you,” I parroted, holding out my hand.

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