The Sheriff (Men of the White Sandy Book 5)

by Sarah M. Anderson

  “No.”

  Tim turned to Summer and found himself less than six inches from her. She was staring up at him with wide eyes and it bothered him that she was scared. It bothered him even more that he was going to have to leave her. “I’m sorry about this, but I have to go bust up a gang war. Will you be okay here with Georgey by yourself?”

  “I…guess?” She edged out from Tim’s side, but just a little. Just enough she could take a good, hard look at Nobody. “Were you the person I saw when I got lost?”

  Tim glared at Nobody, who managed to look sheepish even though he was almost not there. “Yes, ma’am. Didn’t mean to scare you.” Which, all things considered, was a lot of talking for him. Then he turned his attention back to Tim. “I can keep an eye on the house, if you want.”

  Summer made that small noise again and Tim shifted so she was completely behind him again. “No, Georgey will be here with her. How many are going to be there, did you hear?” Because Tim could do a lot of damage with a shotgun but if there were going to be more than ten people, he and Jack might not be able to handle it on their own.

  “All of them, I think.”

  Tim swore. This was all Dwayne LaRoche’s fault. The Warriors had been trying to take over what was left of the Killerz for a while now. Nature abhorred a vacuum—nowhere was that truer than in the criminal underworld.

  He could call for backup, but the surrounding counties weren’t exactly eager to send reinforcements to the White Sandy. “You come with me,” he told Nobody. If Nobody haunted the edge of the confrontation and picked off the stragglers, he could single-handedly take the fight from twenty versus two to eight or ten versus two. “But try not to kill anyone.”

  Summer giggled nervously behind him. But Tim wasn’t joking and Nobody knew it.

  “Meet you there?” Tim asked Nobody.

  Nobody almost wasn’t there but he nodded. Then, just before he disappeared into the darkness entirely, he paused and said, “Ma’am, my wife told me to tell you welcome to the White Sandy.”

  Then he was gone.

  Tim needed to get a move on, but he was having trouble getting his feet to listen. Instead, he stood there, looking down into Summer’s face. “Will you be all right?” he asked again.

  “Should I be scared?” She didn’t sound scared. But the way her voice trickled over his skin like a cool stream on a hot summer day wasn’t making what he had to do any easier.

  “No,” he told her. “I promised I wouldn’t let anything hurt you.” It was only after he finished speaking that he realized his hand had moved and he was brushing his fingertips over her cheek.

  “Is that man really married?” Which, all things considered, was an interesting question. The first question most people asked was if Nobody was real.

  “Yep. You remember meeting Dr. Mitchell today?” Summer’s eyes got very wide. “He’s married to her sister.”

  “Oh.” She leaned into his touch and he caught her scent, a light hint of vanilla. She smelled good enough to eat. “Will you be okay? Breaking up a gang war sounds dangerous.” She reached up and touched the back of his left hand, her fingers lightly tracing the scar that a drunk with a knife had left a few years back.

  “I’ll be fine,” he promised her. More than anything, he wanted to lean down and give her a kiss—one that promised he was coming back tonight. But he didn’t. He couldn’t. “Stay inside and keep the doors locked,” he told her. “I’ll be back.”

  She moved before he realized what she was doing. She rose on her tiptoes and pressed her lips against his cheek. It was a sweet gesture, but it started the fire in his blood anyway.

  Then she was gone. Backing away from him before he could fold his arms round her and hold her tight. “Good luck,” she said, leaning down to pick up her beer bottle.

  He wanted to tell her he wouldn’t be long but it wasn’t in his nature to make promises he wasn’t sure he could keep. He held open the door for her and watched as she settled herself in the recliner. Then he went to his bedroom. He strapped on his bulletproof vest, grabbed the ammo box and his shotgun, and strapped a knife onto his thigh. He had a feeling this was going to be messy.

  Once he was loaded for bear, he stopped and poked his head into the bathroom. “Georgey.”

  The boy squawked in surprise. “What?”

  “I have to go on a call. You’re in charge of protecting your sister. If anything happens to her, you and I are going to have a little chat.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?” The shower curtain moved and Georgey’s wet head poked out. “I’m not going to beat her up or anything. Jesus,” he added in surprise as he noticed the arsenal Tim wore. “What the hell is going on?”

  “The Warriors and the Killerz are going to rumble. I’m going to be busy for the rest of the night. There’s a pistol under my pillow if anyone tries to get in the house. Anyone beside me, Nobody, Jack or Rebel—shoot at their feet.”

  Georgey’s eyes got very wide. He’d been on the edge of enough rumbles he knew what was going on, but Tim hadn’t told him where the firearms were in this house. “Yeah, okay.”

  Tim started to close the door, but then Georgey said, “Hey—Levi keeps a knife strapped to his ankle and I heard that Chuck from the Warriors keeps a handgun tucked in his waistband.”

  Tim opened the door a little wider. It would make sense that the boy would turn on Chuck—Georgey was most closely aligned with the Killerz. But Levi was one of his friends. “I appreciate you sharing that with me. Anything else you think I should know?” He kept his voice as neutral as he could. The kid was offering up information and Tim wasn’t entirely sure why.

  Georgey was still a disembodied head sticking out from the shower curtain. “You know I didn’t have anything to do with this, right?”

  “You’ve been with me for the last week and a half.”

  Georgey sighed. “Levi wants to take over. I don’t know how far he’ll go. He’s been talking about getting more guns.”

  Tim waited. Silence was a tool. He wanted to make sure the kid had all the space he needed to finish spilling his guts.

  “He might have said something about someone named Perros. Perros was gonna give The Killerz more guns.” Then he seemed to realize what he was saying, because he looked afraid. “But…you won’t tell him I said that, will you?”

  Tim stood there in a state of shock. “Los Perros? Is that the name you heard?” This was not a good development. Tim kept his ear to the ground enough to know that Los Perros were Mexican and they were looking to carve out a bigger piece of the North American pie. Shit.

  Georgey nodded. “Yeah—do you know him?”

  “Them. It’s a different gang.” He’d been working for a long time to keep Mexican cartels from making inroads into his reservation. If the Mexicans were going to co-opt one of the local gangs, Tim’s job would be that much harder. “Good work,” he told the boy. “Keep this up and I might let you ride along one night.”

  “Really? Cool.”

  “Keep your sister safe,” Tim told him as he left the bathroom. He wasn’t sure why he made the offer to the boy. No one wanted a scared seventeen-year-old around when gunfire broke out. But Georgey had willingly given up some valuable information—the kind of information that could save a lot of lives in the long run. And he hadn’t done it because he was in trouble or was trying to negotiate a deal.

  There was hope for the boy yet.

  Tim walked out into the living room and found Summer staring at nothing in particular. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

  Her gaze came into focus upon him. But she didn’t get up. “I’ll be waiting.”

  “Lock the door behind me.”

  Tim walked out of the house and headed to work.

  Chapter Six

  Not much made sense at the moment. Summer still couldn’t wrap her head around that man named Nobody and how he had just materialized out of nothing. Or that he was married to the doctor’s sister. Or that his wif
e already knew Summer was here and was extending greetings.

  Or that the sheriff had just walked out of his bedroom wearing enough weaponry to start a war and she had told him she’d wait up for him.

  What on earth that she gotten herself into? The reservation hadn’t seemed nearly this terrifying when she’d come the last time. She hadn’t even been here for twelve hours and already she had been concerned for her safety at least twice.

  She heard the water shut off in the bathroom. She hadn’t been able to understand everything Tim said to Georgey, but she’d distinctly heard him tell the boy where his firearm was and how he was to use it to defend her. She didn’t know if that was sweet or the most ridiculously stupid thing she had ever heard in her entire life. Or both.

  If anyone was going to fire a gun, it was going to be her.

  But then they had kept talking and she hadn’t heard everything.

  A few minutes later, Georgey walked—no, strutted—into the living room like he was hot stuff. Whatever Tim said to him, it left the boy with a clear case of overinflated ego. Which was almost as dangerous as him with a gun.

  “Sit down,” she told him.

  “Let me just check the perimeter,” he said with a swagger.

  Summer rolled her eyes, but she didn’t stop him as he checked the windows and locks on the doors. When he was done, he sat on the edge of the couch, his body tense and his eyes restless. It was as if he expected to be attacked by the creatures of the night at any moment.

  Which would’ve sounded ridiculous about an hour and a half ago. But now? She didn’t know anything. Not anymore.

  “We need to figure out what we’re going to do,” she told him in her most grown-up voice.

  “I’m going to keep you safe,” Georgey said.

  “I was talking more about the long-term rather than the next three hours,” she said, unable to keep the ice out of her voice. “You're a minor and I prefer you not handle guns.”

  “I know how to shoot.” Just like that, Georgey’s swagger was subsumed beneath a teenage boy’s attitude.

  “I appreciate that the sheriff told you to keep me safe, but that gun better be under his pillow and not tucked in your waistband.”

  “You’re not my mom, you know.”

  This again. Summer knew she had long months, if not years, of this awaiting her if she took custody of this child. “No, I’m not. But I have rules. You will watch your mouth around me and you will not pack firearms. Put it back. Now.” Then she waited to see what he would do.

  Georgey held her gaze for the longest moment—just long enough she was certain he was going to defy her openly. Then he got to his feet. “Your rules suck,” he muttered under his breath as he headed back down the hallway.

  When he came back, he did not sit at the edge of the couch and look vigilant. Instead, he slumped back, crossed his arms and scowled. She had her work cut out for her.

  “What would you like to see happen, George?”

  “What do you mean? And why do you call me George? My name is Georgey.”

  She didn’t answer immediately, holding the silence just long enough the boy began to squirm. “I called you Georgey when you were three. But you’re not a little boy anymore. However,” she added before he could shoot off his mouth again, “I will call you whatever you’d like, since we're going to be together for the foreseeable future.”

  Georgey managed to look both worried and defiant at the same time. “So I’m stuck with you? Is that it?”

  She shrugged, trying to look nonchalant. “You can stay here. I don’t remember very much about your mother, although the Sheriff has made it clear he would prefer not to turn you over to her.” She leaned toward him. “I’m sorry about your grandmother, but I don’t know that she’ll be able to take care of you anymore.”

  The look that passed over Georgey’s face was brief but intense. It told Summer what she needed to know—the boy truly did care about his grandma. “Whatever,” he muttered.

  “It’s not whatever,” she retorted. “I’m willing to wait and see how she does. I can’t tell you if she’s going to get better or not. But I can tell you what I expect from you. You will go back to school. If you stay here, I still expect you to get your high school diploma or your GED. If you come with me, I will personally enroll you in my school and keep an eye on you.”

  Georgey made a pfft noise, but he didn’t say anything smart-ass. Summer took that as a good sign. She went on, “Right now, I live in a one-bedroom apartment. If you come with me, we’ll move into a two-bedroom apartment. You will have your own space. But there will be rules. No firearms, no weapons in general, no drugs and no alcohol. You’ll maintain a C average or higher for your grades.”

  “Yay, more rules,” he mumbled.

  “In exchange,” she continued as if he hadn’t spoken, “I will provide you with clothes that fit, food to eat, and a safe place to sleep. We might be able to negotiate about transportation. A bike is fine for the summer, but you might need a car for the winter. Minneapolis is cold.”

  She could tell Georgey was trying not to look excited. His studious boredom, however, cracked around the edges as his eyes widened at the mention of a car. “I, uh, I don’t have my driver’s license. But I do know how to drive.”

  She leveled her sternest glare at him. “Yes, I saw the part where you’d stolen a truck. If you live under my roof, you will follow the law. Being arrested will revoke any privileges you have. If you get a car, you would lose it immediately. Do I make myself clear?”

  “Yeah.” Georgey started tapping his fingers on his forearm. “You got a boyfriend or something?”

  “Nope. I don’t even have a cat.” She smiled, and he almost cracked one back. Then she took a deep breath and told him what she didn’t want to. “There’s one complication with this potential plan—my mother. She’s not a big fan of our father and I don’t think she’s going to be…happy to see you.”

  Georgey stared at her, looking young. She could almost see the toddler he’d once been. “Would we live with her?”

  “No.” For the first time, Summer realized that her mother might actually disown her.

  Was that a risk she was willing to take?

  Georgey leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. “I don’t like school,” he warned her.

  “I don’t care,” she replied. “What do you think you’re going to do with your life if you don’t have a high school degree? I’ll be risking a lot to bring you home with me—do you understand that? I don’t have a lot of money and I’m sure my mother won't help. But we are family and once upon a time, I promised our father that I would look after you. I keep my promises. What I’m asking from you is a promise to do the same. You get good grades, you don’t get kicked out of school and you don’t break the law. You might have to get a job to help out. And in exchange I’ll take care of you. I’ll help you figure out what you’re going to do for the rest of your life. This is the deal, Georgey. Because Sheriff Tim seems to think that if I leave you here, you’re going to be spending a lot more time in a jail cell. So which is it going to be? Are you going to give up? Or are you going to try to work for something?”

  Silence settled over the living room. She had no idea if she had gotten through to him. It was pretty clear the concept of living within a certain set of rules was daunting to Georgey. How long had he been running completely wild. Had his grandmother been able to do anything for him?

  Summer harbored no illusions about what would happen if she took him home with her. There might be a grace period where he tried—but sooner or later, he’d rub up against one of the rules and he’d push back. He was ten years younger than she was, but he had a good four inches on her.

  He’d never been arrested for assaulting anyone, though. She’d checked.

  Finally she said, “You can think about it, you know. I had to give up my summer teaching job to come out here and Tim said he might be able to get me a part-time job teaching GED classes. We could be here
until school starts in the fall. But you’ve got to stay out of trouble. You finish up at the clinic and you do whatever other community service chores Tim assigns to you and you show me that you can follow the rules and that I won’t regret taking you in and then we can talk about a car when you get to Minneapolis. Understood?”

  The car was going to be stretching it. But Georgey nodded. If a car was the carrot she needed to get him to behave, then that was what it took.

  “Now,” she said in a softer voice. “I know all about your arrest record but I don’t know very much about you. If I’m going to be cooking you dinner, you better tell me what kind of food you like.”

  ***

  Nights like this made Tim wish he worked in a nice big city with a nice modern jail that had whole cellblocks on separate floors instead of three cells, all within shouting distance of his desk. Because every cell was full and there was a shit-ton of shouting going on.

  He had the Killerz in the far left cell and the Warriors in the far right one. The unconscious ones from both gangs were in the middle. Tim scowled at Nobody’s handiwork. He didn’t think anybody was on the verge of death in there, but he wasn’t sure.

  “Man, you can’t hold me!” Levi shouted. A few of the Warriors made some unflattering comments about Levi’s parentage and if Tim hadn’t been worried about having to repair the damage on his own dime, he would’ve fired a couple of shots into the ceiling just to shut them all up.

  If they didn’t settle down soon, ceilings be damned.

  Tim looked over at Jack. “Did you get an ETA?”

  Jack shook his head. He'd called in the state troopers and made contact with his FBI handler about the Los Perros lead, but it was two in the morning and no one was in a great big hurry to get out to the White Sandy.

  It was going to be a hell of a long night.

  Jack leaned forward and said quietly, so that only Tim could hear him, “We need Nobody.”

  Tim nodded. The only way these idiots would sit down and shut up was if Nobody was scaring the hell out of them.