Page 27 of The Last Grift
“We try to keep the number of trespassers to a minimum.”
“As far as I know, the marina isn’t part of the park. Why don’t you bug off? Go harass old ladies walking their dogs or kids playing in the streets.” That last one was weak, but Gabriel was tired, and his back was stiffening up. He made a note to do better next time.
“Your car’s plates aren’t registered on the marina’s website as required, so I’m going to assume you’re trespassing.” Lundinnodded his chin toward the boat again. “That vessel has been tied up here for years, and no one but one of the locals has ever been near it. Last night, you were illegally camping. Today, lo and behold, here you are, messing with a boat that is barely afloat. It’s not a far reach for me to conclude you don’t belong here either.”
Gabriel wanted to be offended by the barely afloat comment, but it was the truth. He allowed himself to be slightly annoyed.
“As much as it grates me to inform you,The Golden Ticketis mine. It was left to me by my mother. Happy now?”
The ranger didn’t look particularly satisfied by that tidbit of information, so Gabriel shouldn’t have been surprised by his next words. “I’ll need to see your proof of ownership.”
Still, his mouth dropped open. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
Ranger Man parted his lips enough to release a single word. “No.”
Gabriel sucked in a deep breath through his nose, dropping his head back to stare up at the gray clouds churning over the bay. Slowly, he counted to ten. And then to twenty for good measure. What was up with this guy? No amount of hotness made up for his attitude.
“I don’t have it with me,” he finally admitted, not knowing how he would get it either. “I didn’t expect the Inquisition to show up and demand my paperwork.”
Elton had to have the information tucked away somewhere, right? A handwritten letter from his dead mother would probably not pass muster with this guy.
“Until you register your plates and have proof of ownership for the sailboat, I am going to have to ask you to leave.” Ranger Man set his hands on his hips in ado not fucking mess with meway.
Taunting Gabriel with a red flag.
“For fuck’s sake. Ask away, Mr. Whoever You Are. I’m not leaving, and if I recall correctly, you’re not the sheriff.”
Gabriel braced himself for Lundin’s reaction. Maybe the ranger would try to remove him from the dock by force. Maybe he’d call Gabriel’s bluff and get the Sheriff’s Office on the radio. The last thing Gabe wanted to do right now was to have to ask Elton down to the marina to confirm his story.
Whatever had happened to the nice, trusting small-town citizens he’d read about?
“Casey Lundin,” the man ground out. “Ranger Casey Lundin. And I can, as the legitimate owner of one of the vessels moored here, ask you for proof that you belong here.”
“Do you have a no-trespassing kink?” Gabriel demanded. “Why would I spend hours cleaning something that isn’t mine? Huh? Why?” Frustration bubbled. “Because I wouldn’t, I assure you. I am not that kind of guy.”
Crossing his arms over his broad, rain-slicker-covered chest, the ranger eyed him. After a few seconds, he seemed to come to some kind of conclusion. Gabriel was fairly sure it wasn’t good.
“I’ll give you twenty-four hours to come up with the paperwork. If I don’t see it, I’m reporting you.”
“Reporting me for cleaning up an old boat? You have got to be fucking kidding me.”
They’d been so engaged in their stare-down that neither one of them had heard the metal gate open. When it closed with a rattle, they turned in tandem to look down the dock.
The dog looked up at his owner, decided the sit-stay command didn’t apply any longer, and raced down to greet Elton.
“Bowie, get your ass back here,” Lundin shouted after the dog.
The dog pretended not to hear him but did slow down so hewouldn’t knock into Elton. Instead, he did that weird jumping up without touching thing that some dogs do.
“Afternoon, Gabriel. Thought I’d stop by and see how it was going,” Elton said, moving stiffly down the pier to where they faced each other. “You’ve got to be exhausted.” He looked around expectantly. “Did Gordon leave already?”
Shifting, Lundin shot a glance Elton’s direction and then returned his attention to Gabe. An indecipherable expression flitted across his face.
“If you step a single hair out of line, I’ll find out, and you’ll be sorry you did,” he said quietly.
Gabriel had no time to respond before Lundin continued with, “Elton, why aren’t you using your cane? Bowie, get back here right now.”
The last bit to the dog was muttered in a low growl that sent an uninvited shiver up Gabe’s spine. Too bad Lundin’s personality was defective.
