Total pages in book: 28
Estimated words: 26597 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 133(@200wpm)___ 106(@250wpm)___ 89(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 26597 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 133(@200wpm)___ 106(@250wpm)___ 89(@300wpm)
I hate people who prey on others.
The need to protect runs deep in my bones.
I don’t have a girl to protect and watch out for, so I use all of that pent up energy to protect the nice people of this town against the monsters who would do them harm.
Some people are born to protect the innocent villagers from the barbarians at the gates, and some people (like these sleazy pricks) can’t help but be the barbarians.
If we were born five hundred years ago, I’d be on some battlefield swinging a giant longsword at these yokels’ heads, but unfortunately we’re a little more civilized these days.
My eyes narrow on the control panel. It’s the only place they could possibly hide something as large as a purse.
“Step aside,” I command as I step forward.
I can see the panic in their eyes as they realize where I’m going. Jackpot.
“You can’t touch that,” bloated beer gut says with a hint of dread in his tone. “It’s against the regulations!”
He steps in front of me, smelling of cigarettes and rank body odour. I get in close, staring him down, hoping he does something.
“Move.”
“I can’t let you break the machine,” he says. “Costs a fortune.”
I put my hand on his chest and shove him to the side. He stumbles back and curses as I check out the metal control panel. It takes me five seconds before I find the hidden piece that slides up.
Two purses, three wallets, and a bunch of cellphones inside.
“Hands behind your back,” I say as I grab the handcuffs off my belt.
The skinny guy takes off running, but he’s slow and I’m not. I grab a fistful of his mullet and yank him back, slapping the handcuff around his wrist with a satisfying click. He yelps as I yank his second arm back and cuff his other wrist.
Emmanuel pops out of the crowd and handcuffs the big guy with the trucker hat.
I wave Henry, another officer, over and him and Emmanuel escort them to the truck to bring to the station.
“Book ‘em and come back fast,” I tell them as I look at the other angry carnies watching the scene. “I don’t think these two will be the last ones in handcuffs.”
I grab the stolen gear and hand Mrs. Kensington her purse. She’s ecstatic.
“Thank you!” she says, grabbing my jaw as she lays a wet juicy kiss on my cheek. “Thank you so much, Sheriff. I didn’t know what I was going to do.”
“It’s my pleasure,” I say, smiling at her.
“How come you don’t have a nice girl?” she asks.
Oh god. Here we go…
“A handsome man like you,” she goes on, looking at my big arms and broad shoulders. “It’s a shame that you never settled down. I can ask around if you’re looking for someone.”
“I’m not,” I say in a tone that’s more curt than I intended. “Thank you.”
She looks like she’s realizing she put her foot in her mouth. “I didn’t mean to pry.”
“It’s okay,” I say, grabbing the rest of the stolen loot. “Enjoy the festival.”
Another carnie arrives to take over the ferris wheel. He watches me from the corner of his eyes as he grabs overpriced tickets and lets people on board.
“That compartment stays open,” I warn him before I head back into the crowd. I’m looking for my deputy, Cara, and of course, she’s over by the beer tent, flirting with her husband, and my arch nemesis, Graham West.
Graham is the chief of the firehouse here in the Greene Mountains, and he’s always been a royal pain in my ass. Our rivalry started in high school when we battled it out all season long for the starting quarterback position and almost forty years later, it’s still going on strong.
“Stop distracting my deputies, West,” I say as I march over, stolen gear in hand.
Cara snaps to attention now that her boss has arrived. Graham just grins at me, loving that he’s gotten under my skin.
“I can’t help it if she finds me irresistible,” he says, grinning at her.
“Sorry about that, Sheriff,” Cara says. “What’s all this?”
“Stolen loot,” I say as I hand it over to her. “The workers here are taking more than just tickets.”
“Sketchy fuckers,” Graham says, looking around with a heated gaze.
The guy might drive me nuts, but I know he’s always looking out for the people of this town too. If the barbarians were at the gates, I know he’d be standing guard right beside me. We’re similar in more ways than either of us would like to admit.
“Try to find the owners of this stuff,” I say to Cara. “And put whatever is left into your truck so they can pick it up at the station later.”
“Yes, Sheriff,” she says, checking the ID in one of the wallets.
“These people aren’t done,” I say as I look around at all of the sketchy workers. “So, keep your eyes on the carnies and off the fire chief.”