Blood Moon (Bear Sheriff Book 1)

by Becca Fanning

  But she’d never tried to revitalize a town before. She never would have bothered if it hadn’t been for the outrageous amount of money she’d been offered by the Mayor of Charming. She had no idea how one man could have that kind of money, especially in a town like this, but she wasn’t going to question it – not right then, anyway. She was content to do her job, and get rich while doing it.

  “Is that our hotel?” Erica exclaimed. “Oh, God. It’s not even a hotel. It’s a motel. I knew we should have stayed out of town.”

  “And drive nearly an hour every morning? I don’t think so,” Angie said as she pulled into the parking lot of the Great Southern Motel. At this time in the morning, it looked absolutely dead, and she reasoned that at any time, it would be absolutely dead. There was only one car in the dirt parking lot and Angie assumed it belonged to whoever was working.

  She put the car in park, rolled up Erica’s window – almost catching her arm in the process – and turned the car off. Then she popped the trunk and got out, grabbing her single suitcase. Erica, meanwhile, had to wrestle two suitcases, a duffle bag, and her purse out.

  “Need any help?”

  “I got it, thanks,” Erica said, leaning the duffle bag on the trunk and slamming it shut. “Let’s get checked in so I can get some beauty sleep. We don’t have anything planned tomorrow, do we?”

  “We have a meeting with the mayor.”

  “I don’t have to go, do I?”

  “You’re my assistant, Erica,” Angie warned again. “I need you there.”

  “Fine,” she replied, leading the way into the front desk of the Great Southern. Angie followed slowly, looking around as she did so. There wasn’t much around the Great Southern. It happened to be on the northern end of town – not that there was enough of town to really have a north or south end, she noticed.

  When Angie entered the room that contained the front desk, Erica was already there, clanging on the bell to get some service.

  “Hello?” Erica was calling, but there was no answer. She rang the bell a few more times. “What the hell?”

  “Maybe she’s not here,” Angie said. “Maybe there’s a number we can call, or something.”

  “This is such –”

  “Hold yer horses!” a voice yelled from behind them. Angie jumped at the voice and turned around. An old woman, covered in wrinkles and barely up to Angie’s shoulders, waddled into the room. A cigarette was clutched between her teeth and Angie had to fight off a cough as the old woman walked past her and went around the desk.

  Erica didn’t have that kind of tact: she tried fanning a hand in front of her to dispel the smoke, which seemed to only deepen the scowl on the older woman’s face. Angie had to suppress a grin; she couldn’t imagine this woman not scowling.

  “Whaddaya need?” the older woman asked. Her voice sounded worse than the croak of dying frogs.

  “What we need is our rooms,” Erica shot back.

  “What my friend means,” Angie said, sliding in front of Erica and into the cloud of cigarette smoke, “Is that we have a couple of rooms booked. The last name is Campbell.”

  The old woman grunted and then started flipping through a notebook. She grunted a second time and then said, “Nothing here.”

  “I set them up,” Erica said, indignant. “I called ahead. They have to be in there.”

  The old woman grunted again and Angie said, “Maybe my friend spoke to someone else?”

  “Nope.”

  “Nope?”

  “I’m the only one who works here.”

  “So I talked to you and you messed something up,” Erica hissed, narrowing her eyes.

  “I didn’t mess nothin’ up,” the old woman spat back.

  “Hold on,” Angie said, reaching into her bag. “Let’s just get a room for the night and we’ll sort this out tomorrow. How much is it for two rooms for the night?”

  “Gonna have to book through the week,” the old woman croaked, a nasty grin spreading on her face. So, she can smile. When she’s trying to take advantage of us.

  “No –” Erica began.

  “Not a problem,” Angie said, pulling out her checkbook.

  “Cash only.”

  “Okay, that’s not a problem, either,” Angie said, putting her checkbook back into her bag and pulling out her stash of emergency money.

  “Fourteen hundred.”

  “Excuse me?” Erica said, but Angie stepped in front of her again.

  “A hundred a night, girly,” the old woman said. “And then there’s the both of ya.”

  “A hundred a night? For this place?”

  “Erica?” Angie asked, turning around. “Can you please wait outside?”

  “Ange, we’re getting ripped off. This is a racket!”

  “Just wait outside!” Angie snapped. She was tired and more than that, she was sick and tired of Erica’s mood.

  Erica went outside and waited while Angie paid the money. She didn’t like it any more than Erica did – but she was in no mood to deal with it right then and there.

  “If, by some chance, you find the receipt of our transaction, we would get a refund, right?”

  The old woman grunted, which Angie took as a reluctant yes, and then handed Angie two room keys. Angie thanked her, left the front desk, and went outside. Erica was outside looking furious.

  “She’s ripping us off, Angie!”

  “I know. I know, but we’ll figure it out tomorrow. Let’s just get some rest and try not to piss off the locals too much yet.”

  “It’s a scam! I’ll pull up our receipts and confirmation numbers tomorrow morning. After I’ve gotten my beauty sleep. We’ll get a refund, I promise you.”

  “I know you’ll figure it out,” Angie said, and she meant it. She had a lot of money, so much she almost didn’t care what happened to it. Getting shafted on the motel bill was unfortunate, but Angie knew Erica would get to the bottom of it. And if she didn’t…

  Well, it’s just money.

  “I bet our rooms are at the very end of the motel,” Erica complained. Angie looked down at the keys, then looked at the room numbers – all of which were vacant – that they were passing. “Tell me I’m right.”

  “You’re right, Erica,” Angie said. “Just like you so often are.”

  Together, they made their way to the very end of the motel. Erica’s was at the very end, Angie’s right next to it.

  “I’m almost afraid to see what this room is going to be like,” Erica said, hesitating. “I bet it’s disgusting.”

  “Do you ever say anything positive?”

  “No,” Erica said, opening up her room and disappearing inside.

  Angie sighed and opened up her room. Inside was dark. She felt around for the light switch, flipping it on, and got a good look at where she would be spending her foreseeable future.

  “I hate it when she’s right,” Angie said, sighing and entering the room.

  Chapter 3

  “Okay, okay. I had a bit too much to drink, I’ll admit it. But I’m sorry and it won’t happen again. Why don’t you just take me home?”

  “You’re going to jail, Lester.”

  The Bronco was driving down the highway, lights flashing, but just under the speed limit – Marcus was in no rush to get to the jail in the next county over. Charming had a jail, but it wasn’t much. A little more than one cell, a bathroom, and a room big enough for a front desk. It was Marcus’s base of operations, though he avoided it if possible. And since Lester would need to be hauled over to Haven in the next county over anyway, there was no point taking him in to Charming’s jail and then driving him over to Haven later that afternoon.

  Maybe once Lester Hayes was in jail, Marcus would go home and get some much needed rest. But he knew that probably wouldn’t happen. If he managed to avoid any more of his sheriff duties he would be lucky, but that still left plenty of stuff to do for his farm.

  I’ll need to pick up some cattle feed. And the fence on the northwest pasture
still needs to be repair, though that can probably wait – as long as the damn cattle don’t knock it down again. He still needed to chop down some wood, more for emergencies than necessity right then. He needed to haul up some fresh water to fill the tank for the garden he was going to be planting soon…

  “I know I messed up,” Lester said from the back seat. He was enunciating every word carefully. “Please, you don’t understand. I’m going to get in a lot of trouble for this.”

  “Yeah, you are.”

  “No, you don’t understand. This will be my third DUI. I can’t go to jail. Please.”

  Rage instantly surfaced; Marcus’s vision was going red again. He wanted to pull the Bronco over, pull the sorry excuse for a man out of the vehicle, and shred him limb from limb.

  I can do that. I can… No one knows I’ve picked him up, yet.

  But he blinked rapidly, cleared his mind, and pushed those thoughts away. He was a man of the law now; those kind of rash decisions were in his past.

  “You say one more word, Lester, and you’re going to regret it. I promise you,” Marcus warned. He glanced in the rearview mirror. Lester looked like he wanted to say something, but instead, he just turned to the window and looked over at the rising sun.

  The ride to Haven was silent after that. Marcus turned up the radio but quickly turned it back off. He wasn’t in the mood to listen to any talk shows.

  Haven wasn’t much bigger than Charming, though it was much better. They had a real grocery store instead of a half convenience store, half liquor store, an actual police station, and even a few thriving businesses. While they seemed to be growing, Charming seemed to be shrinking.

  Marcus didn’t entirely mind, though. He liked the peacefulness of the small town life. It was a stark contrast to the life he’d lived before moving to Charming. Things were different now, that much was for certain.

  But they’re certainly not better.

  He wheeled into the Haven Police Department parking lot, slammed his vehicle into park, and opened the door. He grabbed Lester Hayes – a little bit roughly – and started to haul him towards the front of the police station.

  Marcus grimaced. He’d never liked coming here and avoided it whenever he could, but he took a deep breath and opened the front door, pushing Lester in front of him.

  As always, the receptionist jumped when he came through the door. He knew her alarm was caused by a combination of his large size, rugged attitude, and his golden eyes. But he knew she was mostly alarmed by his golden eyes. He didn’t blame her, though. Most people were.

  “Sheriff,” she said, trying to flash him her best smile. “Awfully early, isn’t it?”

  “I don’t choose when others break the law, Cathy,” he said. He always tried to be courteous, though it usually didn’t do him much good.

  “I guess you’re right, Sheriff,” she said, then she buzzed him through the door. “Just put him in any of the cells and I’ll have one of the officers book him in.”

  “Thanks,” Marcus said, then he pushed Lester through the door, into a cell, and then he undid the cuffs and lastly slammed the door shut. “You’re lucky I was in a good mood, Lester.”

  Lester didn’t say anything. Marcus turned and left the cells.

  As he did, he heard Cathy speaking excitedly.

  “What’s going on?” he asked.

  She hesitated for a moment, but knew there was no way to lie to Marcus. “The convenience store down the road has been robbed. The man’s barricaded himself inside of the gas station and won’t come out. Officers on the scene say he’s armed.”

  “Any hostages?” Marcus asked, immediately heading towards the doors.

  “No. But Sheriff! I’m sure they have it under control! Sheriff!”

  But Marcus wasn’t listening to her any more. He was running down the steps of the police station, crossing the parking lot, and hopping into his Bronco. He started it up, flipped the lights on, and gunned the engine. Rocks shot out behind him and Marcus whipped his vehicle around, pulling onto the road and speeding down towards the gas station. Haven was bigger than Charming, but it wasn’t that big, and Marcus knew exactly where he was going.

  It wasn’t really his place, but he was a sheriff – and he knew that even if he wasn’t liked, he couldn’t let any fellow officers find themselves in a dangerous situation while he sat back and didn’t do anything.

  He reached the gas station in less than a minute, pulling up next to two other police cars. They were nice and clean; his was dirty, rugged, and a stark contrast to the others. He felt the same way compared to the officers as he stepped out of the Bronco.

  There were three officers and two of them looked like they were fresh on the force. They were young, much younger than him, and he grimaced. The third officer was an older man, and Marcus’s scowl deepened. These men were a liability.

  “What’s the situation?” he asked.

  “Who are you?” the older officer asked. They were hidden behind one of the cars, all three of their guns drawn. Marcus strode up, looking over the top of the police car. “You’d better get down! He’s armed! And like I asked, who are you?”

  “Sheriff Marcus Stone, next county over. Based out of Charming,” Marcus answered. The older man’s eyes narrowed in recognition. “Heard of me?”

  The officer nodded, his eyes flashing to Marcus’s unsettling eyes. “Yeah, but we don’t need your help, Sheriff,” the officer said. The way he said the word sheriff was meant to get underneath Marcus’s skin, but Marcus couldn’t be bothered with it.

  “Give me a vest, Officer Tancredi,” Marcus said, reading the man’s tag.

  “What?”

  “I said to give me a vest.”

  “You can’t be serious. We’re waiting here for backup.”

  “I don’t have time for that.”

  “Well, we’re not going in with you until backup arrives.”

  “Good,” Marcus said. Without asking, he began pulling the vest off of one of the younger men. “You three stay out here and make sure he doesn’t make a run for it.”

  “You can’t be serious,” the younger officer said, baffled. “You can’t go in there alone.”

  “I trust myself in there alone a lot more than I trust any of you,” Marcus retorted, putting the vest over his broad chest. It was snug, but that was okay. All it needed to do wasstop a bullet.

  I hope.

  Marcus moved towards the front of the gas station, peering into the glass. Inside, he saw the robber moving around behind the counter, fidgeting, his rifle trained towards the front of the store.

  “Get back!” he yelled.

  “Okay, okay!” Marcus said, moving back. “I’m leaving!”

  “I’ll shoot!”

  “I know you will!”

  “Get back here and wait for backup, Sheriff!”

  “I don’t listen to you, Tancredi!” Marcus shot back. He moved off around the side of the gas station. There was a wire cage of propane tanks and a hose on the side. He knew he should wait for backup. He was risking his life trying to take this man down by himself. It was foolish, it was reckless, and it was exactly how he liked to operate. There was a reason he’d chosen to be Sheriff of Charming. He answered to no one but himself.

  The back of the gas station was deserted. Two windows, high up on the building, were out of his reach. Glancing at them, he ruled them out. Even if he could somehow break them out and climb up to them, he’d never fit through them. But he wasn’t completely out of luck. There was a door, probably used for deliveries and for employees to take a quick smoke break.

  Marcus approached the back door and pulled out his weapon. It was ready to go; an old .357 Magnum revolver that had been a gift from his father. It didn’t see a lot of use, but Marcus had cleaned it and tested it only a few days ago on his ranch. Marcus looked down at it. It was the only thing he had of his father’s.

  He’s probably rolling over in his grave now that I’m a law man.

  But Marcus
couldn’t focus on that. He tried the door handle and found it locked, though he couldn’t say he was surprised. He twisted the handle hard, trying to see if he could quietly brute force his way in, but it was pointless. The door was locked tight.

  Marcus took a few steps back and steeled himself. He was going to have to bust down the door, which would undoubtedly draw the gunman’s attention. But that was okay, Marcus wanted that. For some reason, he wanted a confrontation. A smile touched his lips.

  He took a deep breath and then launched himself at the door. The frame splintered easily; so easily, in fact, that Marcus almost lost his footing going into the building. From somewhere in the gas station, he heard the gunman yell in surprise. The room he had entered was dark, but his golden eyes were able to see the dim space clearly.

  To his left was a pallet of potato chips, to his right was a plastic break room table and a door that he assumed led to the gas station proper. From that direction he heard rapid footsteps. Thinking quick, Marcus dove behind the pallet of chips. They wouldn’t offer any protection, but they would offer cover, and that was more than enough.

  The door flew open, though Marcus couldn’t see the man. Waves of fear and anger washed over Marcus as the man screamed, “I know you’re in here! Come out!”

  Marcus yelled back, “Put the weapon down and no one gets hurt!”

  In response, the man opened fired on the dark room. Bottles of soda exploded above Marcus, showering him in sticky liquid.

  “Don’t make a mistake!” Marcus yelled. He regretted the decision as a bullet exploded through the chips just above his shoulder.

  Marcus chose that moment to act. He came out of cover, raising his revolver, but the other man was already aiming in Marcus’s general direction. He fired before Marcus could get a shot off. Marcus felt the bullet impact in his chest, driving the breath from his lungs, but he didn’t stop moving. He raised his .357, aimed, and pulled the trigger.