Page 3 of Warrant
I rubbed my hand over my stomach as I stared out at my cattle while they grazed. I hadn’t exactly had time for the ladies lately. Between my president, Cypher, sending me on missions and helping out with our allies down in Tucson, shit had been busy.
It was only five months ago, I’d been down in Tucson, helping the Viking’s Rampage MC take out another motorcycle club that had been targeting the president’s old lady. It’d been mostly quiet since, and I was starting to get bored. It was never good when I was bored. That was how motorcycles ended up parked on sheriff’s squad cars…
I was just putting the steaks on plates when Owen brought out the potatoes and asparagus. It was May, and while it was still a little chilly, the weather was fucking gorgeous today.
We sat down and quietly watched the cattle graze as the sun set. This was an almost nightly occurrence for us. Had been pretty much our whole lives.
Owen’s mom had worked two jobs most of her life to make ends meet, so he always ended up at our house for dinner. Mom and Dad never minded and Mom considered him one of her brood.
“These from your Mom?” he asked, crunching into a piece of asparagus.
“Potatoes, too,” I said. They had their own cattle ranch and Mom had one of the biggest gardens in Sentinel. She loved to canand freeze dry vegetables and was always sending me home with everything I needed, and more.
“Damn good.”
“Steak’s better,” I said with a grin.
“This last year’s?”
“Yeah, that ornery steer took one too many trips down the road. Butchered him early,” I said with a shake of my head.
“You sticking around for a while?” he asked, looking down at his food.
“Been here for five months, Owen,” I said with a chuckle. The last time I’d gone to Tucson had been in December of last year to help out The Viking’s Rampage. Hadn’t been back since even though I’d gotten an invite to one of their friend’s weddings. There’d been too much to catch up on here with my ranch at the time.
“You were in and out there for a while.”
“Yeah, had some friends who needed help.”
He snorted. “Sure. Friends. You don’t have friends.”
We both laughed at that. I picked up a beer out of the ice chest next to the table and handed it to him.
“They ran into a little trouble-”
“No,” he said, cutting me off while pointing a steak knife at me. “Still law enforcement. Don’t tell me anything about what you do.”
Scowling, I focused on buttering my baked potato and slathering sour cream on it. “Then stop fucking asking, dipshit.”
“Stay away from my boss,” he added.
My brows shot up. “Holy shit, you calling dibs, Ward?”
He rolled his eyes. “No, I’m not calling dibs. What are we? Twelve? I just want to make a good impression with my new boss.”
“What’s that got to do with me?” I asked, tone innocent.
“You fucking kidding me, War? You’re as bad of an impression as I could make.”
“Fuck you,” I said, laughing. “She’ll see what a damn fine deputy you are. Well, damn mediocre deputy you are. No need for me to be involved at all.”
He flipped me off and took a swig from the beer bottle, then shook his head. “You get involved and everything you do will be blamed on me. That’s what always happened with Denison.”
“Sheriff Denison was a fuck up,” I told him, opening my own beer. “Made it easy to do whatever we wanted though.”
“I don’t think she’s going to let you guys get away with as much,” he said with a smirk. “You may be Berserker’s Rage, but I’m betting she’ll have never heard of you.”
Clapping a hand to my heart, I gave him a horrified look. “You think? Well damn. Guess I’ll have to use my charm to impress her instead of my status with the club.”
