Page 40 of Just Friends

“I know.” Holding up his hands in surrender. “I’m sorry; I’ll make it right.”

“See thatyou do,” Hannah glared.

Weasel eyed the room. “Where’s my jacket?”

“Rebecca took it saying she was cold, and you could freeze for all she cared.” Weasel almost laughed, but he bit back his amusement and sighed. He turned and strolled out the back door, letting it close harder than necessary.

Thirteen

Rebecca stepped into Weasel’s dark, quiet cabin with her duffle bag on one shoulder. She dropped her stuff to the floor, slidhis jacket off, and hung it on the coat tree in the foyer. Proud that she’dsnatched it off the back of the couch on the way out. She switched on the kitchen light, illuminated the room, and left the key on the counter. Butterflies danced in her stomach, which was weird, cause they’d done this before. But this time, they’d arranged it. They’d snuck away from their friends specifically to “make up.”

In the gazebo, she’d confessed more than planned, and it didn’t deter him. Outright lying to Autumn and Hannah didn’t sit easily on her conscience. But she was notready to admitshe’d done the deed with him, liked it, and well, him too. There were a lot of expectations coming from them regarding her having a relationship with Weasel. But they overlooked the fact he’d never had a serious girlfriend. And she didn’t even know if he’d ever slept with the same woman more than one night; not a good sign. And yet, he’d gotten angry and possessive when he found Dustin leaning against her.

With shaking hands, she retrieved her gear from the entryway and decided that a relaxing shower might help calm her nerves. She tossed her duffel in the floor next to the lavatory door where she deposited her clothes while waiting on the water to warm.

She was well-steamed and almost finished washing her hair when someone entered. Sliding the glass door open a crack she peered out at Weasel standing there, gun and badge gone, but otherwise fully-clothed. His eyes ran overher body while a mischievous grin crossed his face.

“Can we make up now?” he asked.

“You’re a bitoverdressed for the task.”

Weasel smirked and pulled his shirt over his head, dropping it to the side, revealing that defined chest and abdominals she loved to look at. “Autumn and Hannah yelled at me,” he said unbuttoning his jeans.

“Well, I’ll make it up to you.”

His pants fell to his ankles uncovering boxer-briefs. “You yelled at me.”

Rebecca smiled and crooked a finger in the ‘come here’ motion.

???

Weasel whistled while trudging through the report on his computer preparing for the morning meeting with the Chief and the DEA. They had to go over the newest intel from the informant on the Shakers operation. A new Agent was now in charge of the sting, and he hoped this wouldn’t derail the progress. He glanced up to grab thecoffee mug and discovered Nick staring at him from his desk. “What?”

Nick sighed. “Could you not be so obvious.” Weasel raised an eyebrow and sipped his drink. “Jesus, man, you got laid.”

Yeah, he did, a lot. Not that it was up for discussion. Weasel shook his head. “It’s not obvious.”

“You’ve been grinning like an idiot all morning, and now you’re whistling through paperwork,” he countered. “You finally seal the deal with the hot girl at Ellis or your blue balls get the better of you?”

Weasel gave Nick the middle finger when Ty walked in, wearing his Sheriff uniform, in a body armor vest. He stared back and forth between the two. “What up?”

“Anderson got laid,” Nick said.

“Bout damn time,” Ty replied. “Did you win the hot cook over or did she send you packing?”

They needed to stop calling her hot, damn it. She was hot. But she was his. He glared at both of them, and the bastards laughed. Then, Nick handed Tymoney. “What the hell?” he asked. “You asshole’s had a wager?” They smiled at him. Before he could chew them out, Chief Matheson appeared in their corner of the station and motioned for them to follow him.

The group convened in the conference room; three Feds in suits were there. The female suit with her hair knotted to within an inch of its life on top her head offered a hand. “Special Agent, Bonnie Willem. I’m taking over for Agent Walker.”

Weasel, Ty, and Nick introduced themselves.Taking their seats around the table, she took over the computer andhooked up to a projector giving everyone a view ofthe screen. The first photo was the exterior of Shakers. A dilapidated piece of shit covered in neon signs that announced live, nude, women, silhouettes of the female form, and their claim to fame, topless clog dancers. Who the hell wanted to see that? Although, he’d never understood the allure of strip clubs. He’d talked to enough strippers over the years to recognize many of them were only doing it to make enough money to support an addiction. And the men who owned these placessubjected the ladies to deplorable treatment.

The next photo showed the owner, Duane Hartwell, a waste of skin. In High School, they’d traveled in the same group of delinquents, but they hadn’t spoken in years. Hartwell hated him. Uniformed officers had several run-ins with him since shit was always going onat that tacky-ass establishment, and he never appreciated law enforcement help. They’d tried to have Shakers closed as a public nuisance, but so far, no luck.

Agent Willem hurried on to the next photo of the shed behind the club. “These are photos sent to us by our informant. He’s gained the trust of the gang and entry into the shed in question.” The next photo appeared to be shots of the inside. And “shed” was a term they should use lightly. It was a full-scale operation with stainless steel equipment. The photos included those of heavy-duty rubber gloves and respirators, in and of themselves, not indicative of manufacturing drugs. But coupled with the room full of equipment, undoubtedly damning evidence. Crankers weren’t PHD level chemists; most of them were low-IQ, drugged out morons using subpar and handmade equipment, but this operation was a step above that.

Weasel took notes and sat back. “There are no photos of any product.”

“You are correct, Detective…?”

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