Chapter 7

"You're awfully quiet today. I mean, you're always quiet, but you've barely said two sentences since we left the lodge," Mike said. "I'm guessing your date with Milly must've gone well…"

Wherever Cyrus's mind had been, it snapped back like a rubber band. "Fishing was good."

Mike leaned forward in his seat and craned his head to stare at Cyrus.

Cyrus tried to ignore him, keeping his attention on the road… as he should .

"Dayum, it went that good, huh?" Mike grinned and sat back. "Does she have a sister by any chance?"

"A brother. I can ask if he's single."

Mike snorted. "A brother, huh?" He sat for a second, then turned to Cyrus again. "His first name wouldn't be Jake, would it?"

"That's what she said."

"Damn small world," Mike murmured. "Jake Bauer just transferred onto my shift at the PD."

That caught Cyrus's attention. "You're working nights?"

"Yeah. I'll be back on nights tomorrow night."

"Four-night rotation?"

"Yeah. Four on, four off. Why?" He paused a second and chuckled. "Are you two trying to finagle a hook-up when Big Brother is out of the house?"

"It's not a hook-up." Or rather, he wasn't sure if it was or not. She'd been quick to mention a movie after teasing him with a vague mention of seeing where the evening would go . "We're going to grill steaks…and watch a movie."

"Going from fishing to grilling…at her place?" At Cyrus's curt nod, he whistled. "You're a fast mover."

Cyrus snorted. "We just don't like eating out with a bunch of people we don't know."

"You could've brought her out to the lodge for a meal."

Cyrus aimed a glare at Mike, and his part-time partner laughed.

"Okay, I'll leave it alone, but it'll be interesting chatting with Jake when I get back to work at the PD. I wonder if she's gonna mention she'll be grillin' steaks with a bounty hunter while he's working the night shift..."

Cyrus wondered what had compelled him to mention the damn date in the first place.

He and Mike were on their way to pick up a skip who'd decided to ignore his day in court and show up to his regular job at a feed store instead. Liesel had called the feed store manager when she'd been checking Brock Waverly's listed points of contact. The manager had confirmed he hadn't missed a day of work since he'd been arrested for receiving stolen goods, namely a 28-gauge shotgun, a Benelli SBE 3.

After reading the file, Mike and Cyrus had scratched their heads because it sounded like he'd bought it from a friend, who'd bought it from a friend without proper paperwork. At worst, he was looking at a fine from the judge, but now he was risking much more.

Brock's job was in Dillon, Montana, a two-and-a-half hour drive from West Yellowstone, and they'd be dropping him in Bozeman at the detention center there, which was nearly two hours further way—for fuck-all in the way of a bounty. This morning, getting out on the road on a nice day had seemed like a good idea. Now, cooped up with Chatty Mikey for a six-hour round trip didn't sound so good to Cyrus.

Luckily, Mikey settled in, tipped the cowboy hat he was wearing today downward and snuggled against the door for a nap, which gave Cyrus some time to think.

Dinner and a movie with Milly had sounded pretty good until Mike had made it sound like more than it really was. He tamped down his expectations. It was just dinner and a movie. He wouldn't let himself think about the possibility of it being about more.

His next thought had him frowning. It was an unfortunate turn of events that Mike worked with Milly's brother, Jake. If things didn't end well between them, it could get messy and spill over on Mike. Mike was new to the West Yellowstone PD, and Cyrus didn't want to be the cause of any friction for his new partner at his other job.

He drew a deep breath and frowned harder. He was doing it again—trying to wiggle his way out of seeing Milly. But why? He liked her. Damn, come to think of it, he liked everything he'd learned so far about her.

She was a competent park ranger—so not some wilting flower of a woman who constantly needed a man to hold her hand. He really liked that because if he were ever to seek out a partner in life, he'd want someone he could trust to take care of herself if he wasn't around.

He liked her looks. Sure, she was slender, her curves more subtle than pronounced—but he thought he rather liked the idea of those small curves, too. They weren't so much that they attracted attention from every man around, but could be a secret pleasure just for him to discover.

Then there was her smile and calm gray-blue eyes, both were pretty, and he'd found himself losing his train of thought more than once while they'd fished and eaten their picnic lunch while he'd just stared at her eyes or fantasized about her mouth.

But it was her quirky sense of humor and her ability not to be insulted by his gruff manners that he liked best. He didn't have to second guess every word that came out of his mouth. She thought about what he said, studied his expression, and then, more times than not, gave him a whimsical smile that said she'd read more into his words than he'd meant to relay. Whether she'd read him right didn't seem to matter. He was just glad he hadn't managed to get her angry with him so far. Inevitably, it would happen, but it had been smooth sailing so far.

The sign for Dillon, Montana, appeared, and he signaled to take the exit.

As he approached town, he turned up the volume on his vehicle's GPS and let it lead him to the feed and seed store.

Beside him, Mike straightened in his seat. "I did not mean to sleep the entire way here," he said.

"You probably need to sleep when you can since you'll be transitioning to nights."

"That's mighty thoughtful of you, Cy, but I have a job to do here." He pointed ahead. "There's the feed and seed," he said. "Think we should gear up?"

Cyrus slowed and noted the parking lot was pretty full. "I don't think so—too many civilians. I don't want anyone else spooked. Just our holsters and badges. We don't want to make too much of a ruckus."

He pulled into a parking space at the side of the building, where he could see the front entrance and the loading dock at the side of the building. "You want to hang here and see if our guy tries to rabbit out the loading dock?"

Mike nodded.

They both climbed out and went to the back of the vehicle, where they checked the chambers of their weapons before sliding them into their holsters. "Maybe we'd better wear these since we're splitting up," Cyrus said, pulling a case from his go bag and extracting a pair of earpieces.

When Mike opened his mouth to say something, Cyrus said, "Do not say good luck."

"Yeah, don't want to jinx it."

They parted, with Mike heading toward the side of the building while Cyrus strode to the entrance.

Inside, the smell of grain and leather surrounded him. He walked past the cashiers and moved deeper into the store, looking for his mark. Brock was five-foot-ten and built like a tank. In his mugshot, his brown hair was cut short on the sides. His eyes were hooded, and he'd looked kind of pissed, or maybe he was just naturally mean, but his dead-eye glare had certainly made an impression. Cyrus hoped he wasn't also stupid. This could be an easy takedown if he cooperated.

He didn't see Brock among the racks and cupboards of cowboy clothes and boots. He also wasn't at the counter at the back where fencing supplies were sold.

He moved to the left, heading toward the area with the bags of animal feed and medicines. There was a man with a large cart offloading goat feed onto deep shelves.

"Excuse me," Cyrus said, coming up beside the man.

The man glanced sideways and took in the gun strapped to his thigh and the badge clipped to his belt. "Something I can do for you?"

"I'm looking for Brock Waverly."

The man stiffened and turned to face him. He crossed his arms in front of his chest. "And why are you lookin' for him?"

"He missed his date with the judge. It's my job to bring him in."

The other man's expression changed, looking as mean and defiant as Brock's had in his mugshot.

"You wouldn't happen to be related to Brock, would you?" Cyrus said, lifting one eyebrow and having a sneaking suspicion there wasn't going to be anything easy about this takedown.

"Brock's a good man."

"Yeah, yeah," Cyrus said. "He just made a mistake buying a gun from someone who stole it."

"He bought it from me."

Cyrus stepped closer and glowered. "Well, it look's like you're the one Brock should have the beef with. Maybe you should go to the judge and tell him how it's not any of his fault and that you're the one who should be in jail."

That apparently wasn't the right thing to say. The man's face reddened, and his nostrils flared a second before he dropped his arms and then drew one back.

He didn't get the chance to throw the punch. Cyrus struck him in the jaw, and the man went down, lying on his cart of goat feed like he was taking a nap.

"Our guy just stepped out on the loading dock," Mike said. "I'm going in."

"On my way," Cyrus said, heading to a glassed-in office to the side of the feed aisle and passing two men seated at a table eating their lunch. When they started to rise, he held out a hand. "If you get in my way," he said, tapping his badge, "I'll go through you."

Both men took their seats, but as soon as he moved to the door leading to the dock, he heard their chairs squeak on the tile floor as they pushed them back.

He didn't have time to make good on his promise. Through his earpiece, he heard Mike say, "Brock Waverly, I'm a Fugitive Recovery Agent, and I'm taking you in!"

That was followed by a deep, gritty, "The hell you are!"

"You'll have to go through me," another voice shouted. "We're sovereign citizens, and you have no authority over us!"

"Aw, fuck," Cyrus muttered and drew his weapon as he stepped out on the loading platform.

It took only a second to size up the situation.

Brock and his sovereign buddy had drawn on Mike, whose weapon stayed locked on Brock. Cyrus stepped to the side of the door he'd just exited, then waited a second for the two knuckleheads who'd been eating their lunch to push through the door, one with a rifle and the other holding a shotgun in his hands.

Cyrus moved behind them. "I'd think twice about using those. I can take you both out and still have time to put a hole through Brock's buddy. I'm an ex-Army Ranger. Don't fuck with me."

He'd said it loud enough that Brock's buddy on the dock floor grew bug-eyed. His weapon moved from Mike toward Cyrus, who was still standing behind the men who'd rushed through the door.

Cyrus poked one of the men in the back with the nozzle of his weapon. "Put your shotgun on the ground." Then he poked the other. "Your gun, on the ground, now. Don't make me tell you twice."

When they responded correctly, he placed a hand on the first man's shoulder. "On your knees. Then lie down with your hands behind your neck." When the two went down, he moved to kick away their weapons, then gave Mike a glance.

Mike lifted his chin to Brock. "It's up to you how this ends. If you want your friends to go down with you, go right ahead and pull that trigger, but you aren't getting away. My friend, Cyrus, doesn't have a lot of patience for dumbassery. He shot a man in the leg just a few days ago. He's fucking serious. And if you shoot me…? He won't have a lick of mercy for you."

Brock's cheeks inflated as his skin turned an angry red.

His buddy glanced at Brock and then at Cyrus, his indecision plain in his wide eyes.

In the distance, the sound of a siren pierced the air.

"Better make up your mind quick," Cyrus said. "Do you want your friends to go to jail, too? Or do you want to keep this just between us?"

Brock closed his eyes and then glanced at his buddy. "Put your gun down, Danny." Then he held out his weapon with just a finger through the trigger guard. Mike moved closer, took his weapon, and then directed him to his knees.

Cyrus looked at the two men still lying on their bellies. "You two, get back inside."

They glanced back at him, then came to their knees. When their gazes went to their weapons, Cyrus shook his head. "Do you think I'm stupid? I'll put them on the ground next to the stairs. You can get them after we take Brock out."

The men scurried inside.

The man who'd drawn on Mike jogged toward the stairs and passed Cyrus without giving him a glance.

Mike grinned as he placed cuffs on Brock's wrists. "Piece of cake."

The siren bleeped and then shut off somewhere in front of the store.

Cyrus picked up the discarded weapons, moved down the steps, and placed them on the ground. Then he strode toward Mike. "Think the local cops will let us just walk on past them?"

Mike rolled his eyes and then turned Brock toward the parking lot. "Let's go. And not a word out of you, you hear?"

Later that night, Cyrus crept up the stairs to the second floor of the lodge and headed down the hallway to his bedroom. Just as he was about to turn the knob on his door, he thought better of it.

He wondered if Milly was still awake. If he was going to call her, he might need to head back out to the driveway. Snagging his phone from his back pocket, he quickly texted her, You awake?

Dots scrolled on the screen, and he began to smile.

Milly: Am now

Sorry if I woke you

Milly: Don't be. What's up?

He frowned as he realized what he really wanted was to hear her voice. Can I call you?

Milly: I'm headed outside

He dropped his go bag at his door and turned to head back down the stairs. As soon as he stepped off the front porch, he dialed.

"Hey," she said, her voice sounding a little husky.

"Damn, I really did wake you up."

"Stop," she said. "Just talk to me. I'm glad you called. Rough day?"

"Well, it could've been worse."

"Tell me about it."

He found himself telling her all about Brock and his sovereign citizen buddies. By the time he finished with the story, she was chuckling. "Your life is so much more exciting than mine."

"I can't believe that," he said. "I'm sure you have plenty of dangerous situations you walk into."

"Most of them involve wild animals or stupid tourists, but we do have the occasional poacher who decides he doesn't want to come along peacefully. I haven't faced that scenario yet, but the folks I work with have. It can get scary. The frequency of confrontations seems worse in your line of work."

"Want to know something wild?" he said, wrinkling his nose.

"What's that?"

"My partner, Mike, says your brother just transferred to his shift at the PD."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah."

"Is he much of a gossip?"

"Do we need to worry about that?" he asked, smiling.

"Maybe…"

He chuckled. "He did say they're on nights starting tomorrow."

"Yeah, I asked Jake about that. I tried to ask casually, but I think he knows something's up." She didn't sound particularly worried.

"Well, it's just dinner and movie," he murmured.

"Maybe…"

"Should I park down the road from your place and walk in?" he asked, teasing.

She snorted. "Nah, we'll just have to make sure we get rid of any incriminating evidence after our…date."

"Then tomorrow night?" he asked and held his breath.

"Wish it was tonight," she whispered.