Frost Security(4)

I laughed and headed further into the small office, my boots clomping on the historic hardwood we'd refinished. It was surreal to think of the boots that had walked across these same floorboards as me over a hundred and fifty years before. Actual cowboys, old miners, and settlers. All the men and women who had struck out west and settled this land.

“Figured you could eat,” I said as I walked back into Peter's office, a little room at the back surrounded in soundproof glass. The greasy takeout bag hung from my hand like the holy grail of the fat Western diet. The boss always skipped lunch, it seemed, always too intent on whatever case he had going.

But that's the way he was. An intense guy.

He glanced up at me from beneath his eyebrows, nodding, cool blue eyes taking my measure. Peter was always the serious one. Like he was sizing you up each time he met you. For some people it was unnerving, but to me it was just the way he looked. You got used to it after a while. “Thanks,” he grumbled as I put the takeout bag on the corner of his desk. I took a seat in one of the visitor chairs in front of him, sunk down low and crossed my legs.

“Got a meeting in a few minutes for a new case,” he said, turning back to the field notebook he always carried, jotting down information. “You busy?”

I shrugged. “What kind of case?”

“Stalker, death threats. The usual, I guess, but not so much up here.”

“Stalker, huh?” I echoed. “Small town like this? I figured that for more of a big city thing. Don't you think Frank would be better suited?”

Peter nodded and set his pen aside. “Probably. He's got more experience on the bodyguard front, but you're what I got. Sent him, Matt, and Jake down to Denver, though, on that fraud case to bring in the big bucks. You fight your wars with the army you're given.”

I cracked a wry smile and shook my head. “So, I'm the best you can do is what you're saying?”

He shrugged and smirked, the little expression no more than a flash. “That's what I'm saying.” He leaned forward, grabbed the bag of Dixie's off the corner of his desk and tore into it.

“Sure then, I guess,” I replied as he wolfed, no pun intended, down the burger. “Put me where you need me, right?”

He nodded, mouth full of beef patties and cheese. As shifters, we had to eat a lot. As security personnel who kept in peak physical condition, though, we had to eat even more. “Name's Jessica Long,” he said, passing over a sheet of paper torn from a yellow legal pad. Genevieve’s neat, flowing script covered most of the page. “Been getting threats to leave town or else for the last couple weeks.”

“Sheriff Peak can't do anything?”

He shrugged. “Not sure, but I'd be honestly surprised if he could. How do you put a restraining order on an unidentified person?”

“FBI?” I asked with a shrug, just throwing ideas out there.

He shook his head, burger still clenched in one hand. “No internet threats, which means no crossing state lines. It'd stay local, so they don't have a dog in the fight.”

I nodded, reading through the scant bit of information. It wasn't much, but it was enough to start.

He finished off Dixie Burger number one and tore into the next as I finished up the page. “Says she owns a little art gallery curio place downtown and keeps getting calls there,” I paraphrased. “A couple at home, too, but nothing physical yet, no people she's spotted following her. All calls from different numbers. Not much to go on.”

He grunted in acknowledgment around a mouthful of cheeseburger as I heard the office's front door open to the outside world.

“Hi,” said a woman in a timid voice.

“Hello,” Gen said, her chair scraping as she pushed back from her desk. “Are you Ms. Long?”

“Jessica, please.”

“Shit,” Peter grunted as he wiped his mouth clean with a napkin, “thought I had more time.” He went to put the half-eaten burger aside and get up from his desk.

“Don't worry,” I assured him, “I'll help get her settled in the conference room. Gen'll have you neutered if she finds out you didn't finish lunch.”

Peter nodded his appreciation, his hands already delivering the burger to his chomping mouth.

“Jessica,” our den mom replied, a smile clearly in her voice. She was the warmest, most wonderful woman I'd ever met, and she could make anyone feel at home. Which was great for us, since we were all a bunch of gruff military vets that caused a panic in people the first time they saw us. “Have a seat, dear. Would you care for coffee or tea? Misters Frost and Murdoch will be right with you.”

I got up and headed from the office, idly folding the yellow legal page and shutting the door behind me. I headed into the main reception area, page in hand, as Jessica was just about to take a seat. “Coffee, please,” she said.