Protector: Doms of Mountain Bend Book 1 by BJ Wane (reading books for 7 year olds .txt) 📗

if Clayton didn’t from the dark glare he gave her. Clayton made the mistake of dating the woman right after her affair with a married man in Boise ended, going on the rumors she was done with relationships and was only looking for a good time. In other words, perfect for him, until she turned clingy and started hinting at wanting more after a few nights of burning up the sheets.

Two months had passed since Clayton had ended things, but Sharon took advantage of every opportunity to flirt and tempt him into returning to her bed.

“The Monday special, please,” Clayton told her.

“Make that two, and two beers,” Shawn added.

Straightening up, she ran one long red fingernail down Clayton’s arm, her smile suggestive as she replied, “Anything else, you be sure and let me know.”

Clayton glared at her back and then at Shawn. “Don’t say a word.”

“Fine, spoilsport. On to another subject, then. Lisa has picked up a stalker.”

“Ah, fuck.”

“Exactly.” Shawn spelled out what he knew. Clayton might joke around a lot, and had a tendency to take very little seriously, but mention someone getting away with breaking the law, and he could switch from charmer to a ruthless prosecutor without a hitch.

“And she has no clue who this could be?” Clayton asked when he finished.

“None, and I believe her. Now that he’s proven he’ll chase her down in a different state, she’s too worried to hold back, and I drilled her about every relationship, even the ones at the club she frequented in Phoenix. I plan to follow up with Father Joe tonight.”

“Keep poking at her for details about everyone she’s been in contact with in the weeks prior to the first message. Nine times out of ten, a stalker is someone the victim knows but doesn’t have a clue is obsessed. Whatever you need Dakota and I to do, you know we will.”

Gratitude filled Shawn. He’d never been more appreciative of the unconditional support they always offered each other. “Thanks. She’s staying with me until this bastard is caught, and I’m hoping she’ll mention something I can check out.”

Sharon returned with their order and provided them with another glimpse down her gaping top as she set the plates down, her suggestive smile and wink only for Clayton. Shawn smirked as Clayton made a point of ignoring her. She reacted to the blatant insult with a huff and twitch of her ass then spun about and stalked over to the next table.

“You’ve got yourself a real winner, there, pal. I’ll bet getting laid wasn’t worth the grief of that one.”

Clayton’s annoyed expression dropped off, replaced by his usual, I-don’t-give-a-shit grin. Picking up his sandwich, he took a huge bite, saying with his mouth chewing, “Not so. I can ignore her, but the dick wants what the dick wants, my friend.”

He couldn’t argue with that, not when he thought about Lisa. The difference between them being his open mind to more than sex, whereas, Clayton was content and happy to continue playing the field. Neither he nor Dakota were inclined to put out the extra effort needed to form a relationship, or even to hold onto someone for longer than a few bouts of fucking.

“Have you heard old man Sanders finally hired someone to work for him again?” Clayton took a swig of beer, his look turning rueful as he set it down and added, “I wonder how long this one will last?”

The ornery sheep rancher whose property abutted theirs tended to run off the much-needed hands within weeks of hiring them, his crotchety attitude making him too difficult to work for or to spend much time around.

“I’m sure the betting has already started.” Shawn’s phone beeped as he finished his sandwich, and he answered pushing to his feet, tossing cash down for the tab. “Hey, Kevin, what’s up?”

“I could use some backup at the Campbell residence. I’m headed there now,” the other deputy sheriff said.

“Shit, not again. I’m leaving the Watering Hole now. Neighbors call it in?”

“Like always. Sounds bad, just so you’re aware.”

Kevin clicked off and Shawn swore again. One of these days, Chester Campbell would end up killing his wife, Louise, if she didn’t stick to at least one of the complaints she tended to file then rescind before the ink dried on her signature.

“I’ll ride over with you,” Clayton offered as they both dashed out to the cruiser.

“Thanks,” Shawn said over the roof of the vehicle, reaching for his door handle. “I may need you to hold me back from laying into that fucker.”

“Or,” Clayton said, jumping in, slamming the door, and gripping the hand strap above his head as Shawn peeled out with the siren blaring, “I could lend you a hand.”

One look at Louise as he stormed into their house, and Shawn hoped the ambulance was en route. He barely recognized her face, and the odd angle of her shoulder explained why she was cradling her arm against her waist where she huddled over on the sofa. Chester, a big brute of a man, struggled in Kevin’s hold, his face a drunken, mottled red, his voice laced with vitriol as he ranted against his worthless wife and cursed their interference. The same crap he spewed every time he got drunk and lost his temper.

“I’ll see to her.” Clayton didn’t wait for his nod before squatting in front of Louise to assess her injuries.

Shawn stormed across the worn carpet just as Chester broke free from Kevin. You bet, fucker. Take a swing at me. He braced for the older man’s attack, shifting his torso as Chester swung so his fist smacked nothing but the air. Grabbing his wrist, Shawn jerked him around by the arm and shoved him against the wall hard enough to fell two photos. He put all of his weight against Chester’s flabby body,