Total pages in book: 133
Estimated words: 122440 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 612(@200wpm)___ 490(@250wpm)___ 408(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 122440 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 612(@200wpm)___ 490(@250wpm)___ 408(@300wpm)
Wilder had no trouble letting her know how he felt about her. He didn’t have an ego that demanded she be the giver and worship the ground he walked on. Or that she defer to him in all things. He knew exactly the times he would take over and insist on his way. He wouldn’t argue; he wasn’t that kind of man. He’d tell her, and then he’d make certain she was protected. It would always be black and white to him when it came to watching over her and, eventually, their children. In that, he would lead and she would follow.
He sauntered through the café as if he didn’t have a care in the world, mostly because he didn’t. He already knew what the outcome of the confrontation with the senator would be. The man wasn’t going to get near Harlow. His reporters weren’t going to photograph or write about her. Blom would see he was alive, which was a good thing. They needed him worried and scrambling to try to get ahead of Wilder. Anyone panicking makes mistakes. Blom would make them. And there was Paul Rafferty.
Wilder didn’t look at the man as he strode past Rafferty’s table, but he still saw him in great detail. Rafferty sat at a small table alone just inside the door, clearly enjoying the meal Shabina had prepared, sitting back in his chair as if he were about to watch a movie. There was a very satisfied, very smug smirk on his face. That wasn’t going to be there for long.
Wilder stepped into the wide doorway of the café, where Rainier was already in position waiting for the senator’s entourage to show up. Behind him, Sam and Zale stopped right beside Rafferty’s table. Wilder turned slightly so he could take in the sheriff’s responses.
“Rafferty,” Sam greeted. “It’s been a while. What have you been up to?”
Rafferty deliberately wiped his mouth with a napkin and stretched out even more in his chair to give the appearance of a man wholly relaxed and maybe a little bored that he had to acknowledge the people who had voted him into office.
“Sam. You don’t seem to get time off anymore.” He locked his fingers behind his neck, tilted his head up to look at Sam. He wore that same superior smirk he often did when he believed he held all the winning cards.
It occurred to Wilder that Rafferty didn’t bother to charm his male constituents, just the female. Maybe he believed most men thought the way he did, so he didn’t work at winning them over.
“That woman of yours certainly knows how to keep you busy.” The way Rafferty said it could have meant anything, but Wilder was aware the sheriff was being snide. “Oh yeah,” he continued as he winked at Sam. “I forgot she’s your boss. Guess you gotta do whatever the missus orders you to do.” He laughed, a flat, abrasive sound that was clearly taunting. “You might as well wear a skirt and wig, Sam.”
“I have a really pretty black wig, long hair, comes to my shoulders. When she wants to go howling at the moon, I wear it and howl with her.” Sam delivered his lines with a straight face and then nudged Zale. “Howling at the moon can be cathartic. Sometimes, when you see injustice in the world and you’re trying very hard not to return to your old way of life when you could just right those scales so easily, howling helps. Not all the time, Zale. Sometimes you’re just going to give in to the need to hunt down anyone who thinks they’re above the law. When that happens, you just have to go through old channels and make certain it’s sanctioned. Retirement is wonderful, but you do have to expect to come across people who believe they can get away with anything. Isn’t that right, Rafferty?”
The sheriff slowly dropped his hands from behind his head and sat up straighter. No one could say Sam had issued an actual threat, but anyone as guilty as Paul Rafferty would definitely feel the specter of the grim reaper creeping up behind him. His face flushed a dull red as he glared at Sam.
“Is that supposed to be some kind of innuendo?”
Sam didn’t change expression, but he raised an eyebrow. “I merely stated that you must come across people all the time who believe they can get away with anything. Isn’t that what you see in your capacity as the sheriff?”
Wilder exchanged a brief look with Rainier. Neither were men given to laughter, but Sam had Rafferty very confused. Sam was a master at it. He’d lived in Knightly much longer than the rest of their unit, and he knew the townspeople. He was accepted and well-liked. He also had a reputation as a fair man, but one you left alone.