Flint

“YOU LOOK FAT.” DANNY takes a bite of one of the cherry Danishes he brought to the worksite this morning in celebration of me being officially back to work with Rickson’s.

“Fuck off.” I chuckle. I’m in a good mood—I have everything I’ve ever wanted. “I’m not fat.”

“Fat.” Danny takes a long draw on his paper coffee cup from the bakery and looks up to see my boss joining us.

I’ve been at work for a few hours now, and it feels good. Real good. Like the whole world is in my corner. We’ve been out there chopping down two-hundred-foot trees that Norman, the owner of the company, got permits to take down.  Sure, we utilize chainsaws as well, but there are parts of this job that require old-school ax work and that’s where I shine.

“Great work as usual, Flint. Thought after a few months off, you’d be out of practice. You and Ramsey made quick work of those monsters. I’d say you’re in better condition than last time you were here, if that’s even possible.”

“Clean living,” Danny pipes up, then shrugs as I toss him a glare, running my hand down and gripping my beard.

“I kept busy, boss. House, wood, stuff. You know.”

“Clearly,” Norman adds with a nod. “You and Ramsey are going up on the bluff next. We took down a monster last week. Here’s the parameters of the lengths and targets for what we want brought down. Tractor’s going to be up there tomorrow to pull out the prime pieces and truck ’em out.” He hands me the sheet of paper outlining the details of the job, and I stuff it into the front pocket of my shirt.

Danny keeps up on his smartass backchat as Norman grabs a Danish and pretends to be annoyed. Everyone loves Danny; he’s one of those guys you can’t help but like even if your better judgment tells you not to.

Ramsey is coming up the hill as I look over where the dirt road leads to the job site. He crests the hill, and I smirk. That dark, buzz-cut hair and his surly expression are his usual uniform. This kind of work tends to attract the characters.

Then I hear the sound of an engine and the crunch of gravel, announcing a vehicle is coming up the road as well. That’s unusual out here, tends to be just loggers and critters out this far from civilization. The noise is loud, but I have no way of knowing how close the vehicle is. Sound travels like crazy up here, and it’s quiet, barely any breeze today.

We all turn to look, and immediately, my nerves are raw. Nothing good can come of what I see.

Sheriff Dillon is pulling up in his cruiser. He parks next to my truck, steps out of the car, adjusts his sunglasses, and grins right at me, and I know my day is about to get fucked.

He approaches slowly, sauntering like he’s got all day, and his air of superiority is unusually peaked.

He nods to Norman, who nods back, then turns to me, ignoring Danny. The fool doesn’t know when to give it a rest, though, rising out of his chair with his hand outstretched.

“Morning, Sheriff. Danish?” Danny holds out the pastry, wrapped in a white napkin, but the sheriff maintains his eye contact with me, not even acknowledging the offer.

He pulls off his glasses with a smug look, slips them into the front pocket of his shirt, and crosses his arms over his chest.

I do the same, cocking my head to the side and waiting for whatever bad news is about to come my way.

“Well, first day back to work, huh?” He chuckles. “And unfortunately for you, your last day for a while.”

“Can you just tell us what’s going on, Hank?” Norman pipes in before my mouth gets me in more trouble than I’m apparently already in.

I know I’m no saint. After my time in the military, I fucked up, but I paid my dues for that. It nearly killed me too. But for whatever reason, Sheriff Dillon has had a rod up his ass about me ever since I took root on Bellsay Point. Seems he thought he had some in with the state when the land out there came up in the lottery. Sucks for him, because Ramsey, Vince and me won the three parcels, and he was left holding his well-connected ass in his hands. Coincidence is we all ended up working at Rickson’s and became friends. Real life really is stranger than fiction sometimes.

“Sorry, Norman, I need a word with Rendell. More than a word, actually. Time to take a ride.”

Tension grips at the muscles in my neck. My fists ball at my sides. “I’m not leaving. I ain’t done shit.”

The sheriff pushes out his bottom lip, then spits his brown chew juice so close to my boot the dirt flies up and onto my heel.

“I have evidence to the contrary. Unauthorized installation of cameras. Tracking devices on property not belonging to you.” He raises his eyebrows, then looks at Norman with a smile and a shake of his head, then back to me. “Time to get in the car, Rendell. You know the drill.”

My heart slams around in my chest. Not so much because of what’s going on with me, but what this means for Wren. I should have told her about the cameras. I honestly think she would have understood had I come clean, but the truth is that over the last few days, I’ve been so fucking happy, I hardly thought about all the months I stalked her. All the time I spent watching her.

I wonder if she knows. If she’s okay.

“Let’s go.” I decide I’ll get more information by cooperating than by being a dick, and right now, my only thought is of Wren.

“Good boy.” The sheriff tips his hat at the small group now gathered watching the events unfold. “Seems your girl and her highfalutin sister didn’t take too kindly to your covert operations.”

I step over to the cruiser and reach to open the back door when Sheriff Dillon grabs my arm.

“Oh no, not so fast, boy. Cuffs first. Just procedure, sure you understand.” He smiles as he tugs my arms behind me. I hear the clink of the cuffs then he squeezes the metal until it digs into my wrist bones.

“What’s fucking going on? Where’s Wren?”

I duck my head as I slip into the back seat. Panic grips and tightens in my throat at his implication that Wren knows what’s going on.

“What’s going on? You’re going to jail, that’s what. I’d say a few years this time. And your little girlfriend? Well, she and her congresswoman sister are at the airport getting on her private jet headed back where they came from. Violation of privacy in Michigan is a felony. Seems the nice congresswoman didn’t take it lightly, you spying on her sister.”

The thought of Wren getting on a plane and leaving has me ready to kill. Fuck yes, what I did might have been illegal, but it was necessary. For my sanity as well as making sure she was safe. I’d never hurt her, and I’d do anything to keep anyone else from doing the same.

And fuck, if my other thought isn’t about that goddamn dog. There is a surprising burning in my eyes as I seriously consider the idea of losing them both before I can regain my freedom.