PacksBrokenHeart by Gwen Campbell Read Free Book Online

walked past the front windows. She flipped the mic on her headset up and spun her chair so she could look at the rest of the deputies.
     
    Owen stopped mid-stride about ten feet outside the front door of the sheriff’s office. Somebody inside was pissed. And bellowing.
    “No way in hell are you going.”
    “You’re not my father or my boss, Wally. So back off.”
    Huh. Owen had no trouble recognizing that pissy female tone.
    “You all seem to forget I wear the same shirt you do because of my skills and not just because I fill it out nice.”
    With a sigh Owen resumed walking. Cutler was expecting him. The sooner he was in there the sooner he could get out. When he stepped into the sheriff’s office, his skin prickled from the tension in the air.
    “I’m not your boss but I am your friend. I get a say when you do something stupid. And putting yourself in the middle of a disintegrating pack with a cop killer on the loose would be the stupidest thing you’ve ever done.”
    “This gun isn’t for show,” Suzanne yelled back. She snatched off the tiny headset she was wearing, tossed it to another deputy and marched up to the humongous brown-haired cop she’d been arguing with. “You all seem to forget I’m a fully certified deputy sheriff just like the rest of you. Since when does wearing my reproductive organs on the inside prevent me from doing the job?”
    “Aw, Suzanne, you know I don’t mean it like that.” The big cop spread his hands in a gesture of appeasement.
    Owen could see it was wasted effort.
    “And just how do you mean it? Hmm? Compared to me your marksmanship is so bad you shouldn’t be licensed to carry a cap gun. And what the hell do you want?” she yelled, turning to glare at Owen, who’d stepped up to the counter.
    He let his brows draw closer together but other than that wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of seeing how much she managed to annoy him.
    “And what the hell are you doing with that ?” she added, making a grab for the silver box Owen was pulling out of his breast pocket.
    “Easy there, deputy,” Owen growled. He held the box out of her reach, uncharacteristically enjoying the fact he was able to rile her up so easily. She made another grab for the box but his height defeated her easily. When she resorted to huffing at him and planting her fists on that tiny waist of hers he admired the way her breasts pushed against her regulation shirt.
    “This,” he said, tilting the silver box in his hand, “hasn’t been reported stolen nor is it going to be. I’m a citizen you’re sworn to protect and serve…not play snatch and grab with. So tone it down a notch.”
    “Why you arrogant…” The pretty deputy sheriff launched herself across the counter at him, grabbed the front of his shirt with one hand and her cuffs with the other.
    Owen held his ground and glared down at her. “I’m no expert but attacking a civilian is a chargeable offense, isn’t it? Is it just your blonde roots showing or are you always this dumb?”
    “Suzanne!”
    She flinched and snarled when the door behind Owen slammed. Cutler stepped up beside Owen and glared at his deputies. “Let him go and get back to work. All of you.” His voice boomed through the office.
    He flipped up the little gate that led past the counter into the main part of the station. “Come with me,” he barked at Owen before heading for the door with his name painted on it. Inside Cutler dropped the small paper bag he was carrying onto his desk, releasing the scents of cinnamon and apples into the air. He sat down in his big leather chair.
    Holding his tongue, Owen took one of the chairs across from Cutler. With quiet reverence he set the silver box on Cutler’s blotter.
    Cutler picked it up and ran his fingers around the lid. Owen knew what he was checking for. The same jeweler who’d engraved the box had just finished soldering it shut. The man was an artist. There wasn’t a drip, ripple or ridge to mar the perfect