“Hands where I can see them!” one of them yelled.
Now she was really, really starting to get pissed off.
“I am the Sheriff of Silver Peak! How about if you put your hands where I can see them?” she yelled back angrily. Would they actually shoot her? This was insane.
One of them men stepped forward. Shorter, heavyset, built like a barrel. He had an army-style brush cut.
“I’m Chief Tomlinson,” he said. He looked her up and down. “Are you actually trying to tell me that you’re the sheriff? Driving that car?” He glanced over at her pink car with an expression of deep skepticism.
“We drive our personal vehicles,” she said indignantly. “I am the sheriff. I called you from city hall earlier to arrange a two o’clock meeting with you.”
“Oh. Yep.” He was still staring at the car as his men slowly lowered their SIG Sauer 229s and returned them to their holsters.
She scowled at him. There was no need for him to be insulting. “We don’t have a rich rancher to buy us a new fleet of cars—or to use us as his own personal police force.”
He flushed at the implication. “We’re not in his pocket, if that’s what you’re saying.”
“Five minutes after I leave his property, three of you pull me over with your guns drawn? Is that normally how you approach a fellow law enforcement officer?”
Chief Tomlinson looked a little discomfited at that. “He said you came onto his land and threatened him, and you injured one of his sheep,” he said defensively. “He also didn’t mention that you were the sheriff.” He stared at the star on her shirt as if he still didn’t quite believe it. She was really getting steamed.
“The Dudleys found a lamb on their property. The boys said they had found ten dead sheep with their throats torn out, and this lamb was hiding in the bushes nearby, right next to the Rodgers property. I was returning the lamb to Mr. Rodgers as a favor to Joyce, because she was busy.”
Now his expression turned to concern. “I’ll go check it out right now,” he said. “Sorry about the misunderstanding. Did they tell you anything else?”
“No, they did not.” Joyce climbed in her car, turned around, and drove off.
* * * * *
The next night…
“You’re jumpier than a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs,” Rafe said to Roman as they leaned back on the bar at the honky-tonk.
Rafe and his Southern-isms. His accent was pure Alabama, although Roman had no idea where exactly he was from or why he’d chosen not to stay with his home pack. Or any other pack in his state. And that was exactly the way Roman liked it.
Roman shrugged. He didn’t think he was jumpy. He just wasn’t feeling it tonight. Every time a woman brushed up against him, giggling and simpering, he kept seeing Chelsea, fiery and furious at him. He remembered her challenging him and his pack’s lifestyle as he gave her a ride back to town, and he found that it was making him feel unsettled and strange.
And now he was way too sober. Damn fast shifter metabolism.
“Beer me, sweetheart” he said to the bartender. She winked at him and set down an enormous mug, and he slapped a ten dollar bill down on the bar. The Hootenanny loved having shifters as customers, because shifters had to drink an enormous amount to get drunk, and they ran up huge tabs. He and his hard-drinking gang probably spent a third of their salary at whatever tavern they were camping out near.
“There is some fine, fine womanflesh in here tonight,” Avery observed, looking around the room. “Who are you going for?”
Roman shook his head. “Nobody. Taking the night off.”
“Are you kidding me?” Avery sounded mortally wounded, as if Roman had just personally insulted him.
“Hey, tomorrow’s a work day.”
“Like that ever stopped you.”
Roman shrugged. “I’m just not feeling it. What can I say?”
“Me neither.” Zeke, who’d been nursing just the one beer all night, set his mug down on the bar. “I’m heading out early.”
“Hold on a second,” Avery said with mock concern. “I need to take your pulse. Who the hell are you, and what have you done with my packmates?”
“Going to meet your new lady friend?” Roman asked Zeke, ignoring Avery.
A blonde in tight jeans sidled over and draped herself over Avery, who threw his arm around her waist and led her away.
“Yep.” Zeke nodded. He wasn’t bragging about whoever he was banging, which was unlike him.
“Be careful when you’re screwing around with humans,” Roman warned him. Human men tended to get jealous. And hanging out with humans was just tiptoeing through a minefield in general.