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“Have a good night, Sheriff.” I gestured toward the door.

“Your car…

“I’ll get it tomorrow.” I shrugged.

“How?”

“I’ll walk.”

He held out his hands. “I’ll have Gentry follow me here tomorrow after the roads are plowed,” he said. “Just give me the keys.”

I contemplated it for a long while before I decided that it was probably easier on me to just let him do what he would.

Plus, if he took care of it, maybe he’d find whatever fucked-up trap Leo laid for me.

I had no doubts that Leo was going to do something to it. Especially since it would be left overnight without anyone to watch over it.

I held out the keys, and he took them gently from my hands.

He shoved them in his coat pocket and gestured with his head, “Why do you have that?”

I looked behind me to see the baseball bat leaning up against the wall opposite of the front door.

I shrugged.

What he didn’t know was that I had protection literally everywhere. In the bathroom. Next to my bed. Next to the sink. In the corner by the door.

There were guns.

Bats.

Tasers.

If it protected me, I had it.

Though, guns still made me a bit nervous.

When I was six, my dad had a gun tucked into his waistband. He’d started to pull it out, and he’d shot himself through the ass cheek with it. I’d been the only one home at the time, and the entire thing had scared the daylights out of me.

Needless to say, sometimes I tended to lean toward the bat or the taser despite knowing the gun would be better if Leo did decide to breach my home.

“Have a good night, Sheriff Black,” I repeated.

He took that as his sign and took off, heading for his cruiser.

I waited until he was out of sight before locking the door and rearming the alarm.

It took me five minutes for my heart rate to calm down at the closeness.

And that night, I had dreams of salt-and-pepper beards and full-on scowls.

Seven

The Titanic is a great example of why “just the tip”can get you into a lot of trouble.

—Black to Gentry

Black