xxx. bad sheriff, bad cop
STRETCHING AFTER STEPPING off her bike, Rinn looked up at Denver's looming house. Jackson called her and told her she needed to show up, alone, because they had to discuss some things. He said there was someone else there with him, so she had to be careful with what she said. He sounded almost panicky, but she pushed it off.
She knew he wouldn't bring her into a situation that wasn't safe enough for her to be in.
Slowly making her way up to the front door, Rinn opened it and walked through the entrance way. Looking around, she saw no one . . . and then she heard Jackson's panic filled voice, again, which caused her to turn towards the living room. Heading inside, she leaned against the wall and crossed her arms over her chest.
Two men were in the room; one of them was Jackson and the other was an older man. He looked to be in his late fifties, early sixties, and his eyes were covered in a cloak of irritation, mixed with guilt. He stood, revealing something she didn't expect to see.
A badge; a sheriff's badge.
"Well," she said, nodding a little, "That's unexpected."
"No kidding," the sheriff said, sticking his hand out to introduce himself. She looked down at it before letting her eyes trail back to his. From the look in hers, he slowly let his drop down to his side as Jackson spoke.
"She doesn't do the whole physical contact, shaking hands thing," he informed the sheriff, causing him to nod, clueless. She could tell he wanted to ask, but she wouldn't tell him, anyway. Then, he opened his mouth and spoke in an old, cracking voice that made her wonder what he grandfather would have sounded like, if she'd ever met him.
"I'm the sheriff of Fairview. Name's Waylan," he looked up at her and narrowed his eyes to slits, asking the question she knew he was bound to ask, "Why don't you shake hands? What's so bad about that?"
"Rinn Daniels," she nodded, talking to him but ignoring his question for the time being, "Two things; one, you're a bad cop, I presume . . . and two, you're a really fucking clueless one at that."
"Sheriff," he corrected her, "I'm a bad sheriff."
"It doesn't make a difference to me whether you're a cop or a sheriff or a goddamn federal agent; you're all the same," she shrugged, heading over to the couch and taking a seat, popping a cigarette in her mouth. She lit it and took a long drag, motioning for him to take a seat. He hobbled over to the couch and sat opposite of her, while Jackson watched as she smoked the cigarette while watching Waylan.
"You look tired," Waylan said, nodding at her, "Both of you, actually."
"You don't look all that fetching, either, old man," she nodded back, causing him to grimace and sigh. She waited a moment, noticing he was debating something in his head. Before long, she spoke up, again, "What is it I'm here for?"
"ATF has a Rico case. Someone turned rat inside the club and I don't know who that is. They have a warrant to search here and the clubhouse, tomorrow around noon. I know you guys are running illegal guns and drugs through town, so I suggest you keep everything on the down low, alright?" Waylan said, standing.
"Yes, sir," Rinn sarcastically spoke, grimacing.
He turned towards her, "And clean up whatever mess you two manage to make. I don't want to find three bodies in the woods, again, understand?"
Rinn immediately froze inside; for a moment, she couldn't see anything. It was almost as if time stood still out of desperation and she felt herself beginning to panic. It took her what felt like forever to snap out of it, but she eventually did and nodded slowly at him, causing Jackson to walk him to the door and thank him.
YOU ARE READING
Miss Mayhem
Action"Sometimes, when I look in the mirror, I don't like the face staring back at me," she whispered, looking down at the floor. Her feet were small in front of his and it was then that she realized how close he really was to her. He frowned, asking, "W...
