Page 27 of Magnetic Temptations

“Nothing. It’s as if he vanished into the thin air,” Mav complains.

Dad clears his throat, and I shoot him a narrowed look. The least he could do is give them a moment to breathe before pulling out his presidential card. “Dad,” I seethe. “Don’t.”

“Sorry, you two,” Mason says. “Maverick, this is Gunner, and Mane. Gunner is Mane’s pa.”

My dad turns to me with a cheshire grin across his face and mouths, “Pa?” I shake my head because even if it is laughable to us, it isn’t to the brothers.

“Well, I'll be… if it isn't the infamous Mane,” Maverick teases, reaching out and yanking me into his arms. “Welcome to the family, sis. I like chocolate chip cookies and any type of cake as long as it doesn’t have coconut in it.”

“Putting in your requests a little early there, aren’t you, brother?” Mason snickers. “The way to this one's heart is through his stomach.” That’s good information to have and I file it away to use later.

Before I get a chance to respond, flashing blue and red lights, along with a siren pierces the afternoon air. “What the fuck?” Dad hisses, his body going from relaxed to agitated. He stays leaned against the side of the house, his arms staying crossed and tucked against his chest. His feet, however, untangle and take a wide stance. He’s ready for anything this officer throws at us, legal or otherwise.

When the cop exits his vehicle, recognition hits me, it's Officer Benji boy in the flesh. I can't help but wonder what rabbit he's gonna pull out of his hat as a reason for stopping by. “Why do you think he's here?” I ask the guys.

“Probably to get a lay of the land,” my dad answers.

“Guess we're fixing to find out,” Mason responds, reaching out and drawing me into his side.

“I really want to deck that guy,” Maverick groans.

“Gentlemen, ma’am,” Benji says, tilting his hat at us.

“What can we do for you, Deputy Douglas?” Maverick asks, his question asked not so nicely. “We haven’t broken any laws that I’m aware of, so why are you here?”

“Got a report from a pillar of the town and I’m here to find out why your family didn’t file it themselves,” he lies. This man sets off all of my warning bells, it’s clear as the sky is blue that he’s a conniving individual. He thrives on chaos of all sorts, especially when he’s the root cause of it.

“Well, what did they report?” Maverick continues, his tone staying crisp, gruff, and short-winded. His face however stays stoic, not giving away that indeed, Myles isn’t anywhere to be found.

“It was stated that your brother went missing last night. Is that true?” he inquires, tilting his head.

But there’s something in his eyes that tells me he already knows it is because he’s the culprit. I tug on Mason’s shirt that’s peeking out from beneath his cut, giving him a wide-eyed stare. He nods his head, his chin touching his chest, letting me know that my silent message has been received.

“Can’t say that it is,” Mav answers as the rest of us stay quiet, acting the dutiful part of unknowing bystanders. “My brother has been known to take off with friends for the city from time-to-time without letting us know he needs a break.” As far as cover ups go, that’s a pretty damn good one. “So I can’t with any certainty declare him as a missing person.”

Dad steps forward, saying, “Listen, Deputy Dickf–Douglas.” I giggle at his slip of the tongue but quickly clamp my mouth shut when he shoots me his keep quiet look. “We came to town so my daughter could meet her man’s brothers and folks, but we’ll do an inquiry into Myles’ whereabouts. Where can we find you if we figure out this report is true?”

By now, old Benji boy is seething mad. We didn’t take his bait and he’s extremely put out with that. He steps forward after pulling a business card out of his front shirt pocket and hands it out to my dad. He scans my dad and Mason’s torso, snarling. “We don’t welcome gangs in this town. We’re a wholesome bunch here and I’d prefer you didn’t fly your colors while visiting.”

“Not a gang,” Dad issues through gritted teeth. “You see a bandana on my head or my drawers hanging to my knees?” My dad’s interpretation and visualization of gang attire isn’t completely accurate. Some do dress that way, but not all of them. I’ve seen a few of their members dressing in suits and ties, but I don’t think now is the right time to correct him.

Out the side of my mouth, I whisper, “I don’t think you debating terminology is the right move, Dad. Right now, he’s feeling superior and if you take that away from him, Myles may end up on the wrong end of his anger.”

“Noted,” he quietly replies.

“When we ride through town, we’ll make sure our club cuts are tucked away,” Mason promises, though not without malice laced in his voice.

“Enjoy your visit,” Deputy Dickface sputters as he angrily stomps his way to his cruiser, yanks the door open and slams it shut once he’s tucked inside.

“He’s delightful,” Dad muses before tacking on a grunt.

“Horseface bastard. If I wasn’t sure before that he had something to do with Myles, I am now,” Maverick confides.

“Agreed,” Mason grumbles. “Something tells me we need to find Myles sooner rather than later.”

“We’re on the same page with that one,” Dad snarls. “That man is one crayon short of the coloring box. He’s close to snapping.”

“He’s already snapped but nobody’s recognized the signs,” I correct. “He’s a loose thread that needs to be snipped off. Everyone is in danger until the threat he poses has been neutralized.”

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