Page 63 of Burning Secrets

“What’s going on?”

“Deputy Mills,” said Rio and shook his hand. He turned back to Deke. “One of our smokejumpers was snatched from a fire site. We think the SOR took her.”

“Think? We know Viper has her.” Crew slammed his hand onto the counter separating the entry and the back.

“Calm down there, son,” Mills said.

Crew looked at him. “Calm. down? Do you have any idea who these guys are? The Sons of Revolution, as in Anarchy, Please. They want to dismantle society, rules, and frankly, they should scare you to your bones.”

Mills looked him up and down. “Wait.” He looked at Rio, back to Crew. “I’ve seen you in town. You’re one of them. Am I supposed to be scared of you?”

“Mills. He’s with us.”

“Really. Because he looks exactly like the criminal element down at the Copper Mountain prison—wait. Yes. I remember you. Tough kid. Your dad transferred to the prison to babysit you.”

Crew’s mouth opened. “He didn’t—” But yes, that’s exactly what his father had done. And had died for it, the smaller facility lacking the resources to treat his cancer.

Breathe.A gentle answer turns away wrath, but a harsh word stirs up anger.

His father’s words, rising inside him.

Right. “Yes. My father was there. Good man?—”

“Who killed someone.”

Crew clamped his mouth shut. Took a deep breath.

Turned.

And maybe it was sharper than he meant, and he did raise his fists again, in frustration?—

But he didn’t mean to bump Mills’s coffee hand.

Hot liquid splashed over the deputy’s arm, his shirt, and Mills backed up, shouted.

Rio had his back to them, glanced over his shoulder, but too late?—

“Is that a gun?” Mills growled.

Aw. The .44 Magnum. In his belt.

And just like that, Mills overpowered the donuts, grabbed Crew by the neck, and shoved him against the wall.

He winced, but mostly from the shock, and then Mills kicked out his legs. “Stay still.”

And he knew the drill. Because suddenly he was prisoner number AK-38905-X, mouth shut, face to the wall, being searched.

“Mills! Back off.” Rio.

“He’s working with the FBI,” said the sheriff.

“He’s a felon with a gun. That’s statute 18 USC 922(g)(1), which makes it unlawful for anyone who has been convicted of a felony to be in possession of a firearm.” He grabbed Crew’s wrist, pulled it behind him, snapped on a cuff.

Then the other. Bracelets.

“The sentence can be up to ten years in prison. Maybe it’s time you join your old man back inside, huh?”

He spun him around.

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