Page 88 of Protected By West
Chief Fagan sat back in his chair and raised a rather eloquent brow at him.
West knew that look well. It had been directed at him over and over through the years, but only recently had he started to be able to withstand the piercing eyes boring into his soul from beneath it.
Chief Fagan leaned forward, folding his arms on top of his desk. The shift drew Weston's eyes across the desk, and he saw the gold and black nameplate that read Chief Seamus Fagan on it.
Sometimes, he mused, it was possible to forget that your mentors have 'real' names outside of their rank and surname.
He'd seen senior officers go pale in the chief's gaze, but thankfully, West had never really incurred the man's ire.
It was something he never wanted to happen.
The Chief tapped his finger on the desk blotter. "I'm glad you're giving it time. I never found a balance between work and outside. And I'm feeling it now that I'm walking up on my retirement."
"Retirement?"
Weston tried not to laugh at the idea.
"What's so damn funny, Weston?"
Weston tried to fight off the instinctive smile that lifted the corner of his mustache.
"Are you trying to get demoted?"
Weston knew that his mentor was just kidding, but he still sounded fierce. "I always thought that you'd be in this chair until your last day."
Seamus sighed and leaned back in his chair, he folded his fingers together and looked up at the ceiling. "That's what I'd always intended, but I went in for my annual physical last year and the doctor sat my ass down and gave me a talking to that I haven't had since my mama caught me taking a cookie out of the jar with grubby hands."
Smiling, he sat upright and gave Weston a look across the desk. "As long as you've known me... I guess since I started with the Rangers, I've been staring at the road ahead. One rank to the next. Doing my job. Making Texas safer for everyone."
Weston nodded and leaned on the arm of his chair. "The wall behind your desk is full of awards. The shelves are full of awards as well. There isn't a law enforcement officer in Texas that can hold a candle to your record."
Seamus didn't move but the atmosphere in the room changed in a heartbeat.
The deep exhale of his mentor felt like a cold front came through the closed door of his office.
"I've got every award imaginable, but when I got up to accept them, I stood there alone. In my office, I set a trophy on the shelf and sit down behind my desk, there's no one to stand beside me and feel any kind of pride in my accomplishments. When I put them on my wall at home, there's no one there to share them with."
Seamus reached out and picked up his coffee mug and looked down into it. With a long sigh, he got up.
West got to his feet and reached out. "Here, let me get you some coffee."
Dropping his chin, Seamus shook his head. "I'm not so old and infirm that I can't get a cup across the room."
Weston wanted to reassure his mentor, but he'd known him long enough that he wouldn't see it that way. Seamus had always been a rigid man. The kind of lawman that people looked to in any situation. Rock steady and immovable.
He didn't like reassurances in his personal matters.
The Chief stopped at the corner of his desk. Turned his head a fraction of an inch and his lips thinned into a line. "You coming to get yourself a cup or do you expect me to pour one for you?"
Weston got up from his chair and crossed the room to the coffee station. The guys on the SWAT team had gotten him a top-of-the-line machine since it felt like the Chief rarely left his office on most days.
They'd considered a fold-out sofa bed, but they had a feeling that Chief Fagan would have had them all drawn and quartered for it. It might be appropriate, but no one wanted to admit that they basically spent most of their waking hours in their office.
He watched as the chief opted for straight black coffee instead of any of the other options on the machine. Just like Fox had said he would.
When he stepped back, Weston picked up a mug from the table and poured himself a cup as well.
"You might not know this," the Chief took a sip from the mug that had to be scalding, but he barely reacted, "but I was married once."
