Page 3 of Red Flagged

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“Dear, you fucking asshole.” Smitty pounded him on the back with one massive hand. “I can’t believe you’re leaving the team. We all thought you were a lifer.”

Coughing as he tried to reclaim some of the air Smitty had forced out of his lungs, André could do nothing more than wheeze and shake his head.

“Don’t kill the guy before he starts his new job,” Jensen admonished. “Besides, he’ll be back. He’s gonna get bored ticketing kids for speeding down Main Street and responding to calls about loose horses.”

Frowning, André sucked in a breath as he eyed Jensen, a DEA agent he’d been partnered with to run down Aldo Campos. “I don’t think the Olympic Peninsula is exactly horse country.”

“Fine.” Jensen waved the hand that wasn’t wrapped around a full pint of Guinness. “Chickens or”—he guffawed loudly—“Bigfoot.”

Little did Jensen know there actually was a Bigfoot Society headquarters in Cooper Springs. And no way was André telling him. Jensen was a fine person, but André wasn’t going to miss him. He was loud and brash and generally rubbed André the wrong way. But they’d nabbed Campos together, a feather in both their caps. One worth celebrating.

“It’s just not gonna be the same without you,” Sacha Bolic said with a false pained air.

“You’ve been retired for years,” André pointed out. “You live in Skagit. Why are you even here tonight?”

André liked Sacha Bolic. He’d been an excellent marshal before hanging up his star and settling down a few years ago. When he’d walked into Kenton Arms, André had done a double take, not remotely expecting to see his former colleague.

“Keeping my hand in,” Sacha replied with his trademark evil smirk. Knowing his history, Sacha could have gone either way—good or evil— and André was glad he’d chosen to join the Marshals Service. “Besides, when Doug told me there was a going-away party for your sad ass, Seth and I were already on our way down here for some garden show he can’t miss. This way I can catch up with you fools and Seth doesn’t have me asking when we can go back to the hotel already.”

Seriously, of all the grouchy men on the planet,Sacha Bolichad a partner, but André didn’t? How was that fair? Even worse, Seth was a nice guy. Younger than Sacha, but a truly nice person who—for some reason—thought Sacha hung the moon and stars.

Searing blue eyes and skin several shades darker than his flickered at the edge of his thoughts. Dante Castone. André figured Dante would hear through the grapevine that André was retiring—had already retired—and was leaving the area. Cops were the biggest fucking gossips on the planet.

It was best this way, André told himself, not for the first time. A clean break. It wasn’t as if he and Dante had a real relationship. Even if he’d known how to get in touch with Dante, there was no reason for him to explain anything. André was just wrapping up loose ends on the Campos files and heading into the wild blue yonder. He’d have to testify at the trial when the time came, but other than that? He was done.

“So.” Sacha poked him in the ribs, but his tone was serious. What was it with people invading his personal space tonight? “Are you ready for the small-town life?”

Was he ever. André was looking forward to warm coffee and sleeping in his own bed on a regular basis. No more stakeouts in uncomfortable cars. No more chasing fugitives down dark alleys. He could hardly wait.

“I’m as ready as I’ll ever be. Definitely looking forward to a slower pace.”

Sacha nodded slowly, an irritatingknowingexpression on his face. Like he knew a secret André didn’t. “Slower pace, huh? Did you grow up in a small town?”

Thankfully, the rest of the table’s attention was diverted by the crackle of the microphone as quiz night started.

“Not so much, and not tiny. Not as small as Cooper Springs.”

“Ah,” Sacha said, continuing to employ the same irritating tone, his Bosnian accent making an appearance. “So you have no fucking idea what you’re getting into?”

Did he? Was he getting in over his own head? André didn’t think so. His father had been a police sergeant in the mid-sized town where André had grown up. He was familiar with the vibe, even if it wasn’t exactly the same.

“Dear, help me out.” Jensen banged him on the shoulder, saving him from having to answer Bolic. “What year did the Beatles break up?”

André glared at the younger man. “Why the hell should I know? I wasn’t even born when the Beatles were playing.”

“Ah-hah! When were you born? I’ll guess a year before that.”

Many hours later, André said goodbye to his teammates and coworkers for the last time and slowly walked back to his apartment. A new beginning beckoned him, and he couldn’t wait to get started.

TWO

Dante – August

Dante’s eyebrows drew together as he scowled at the three words. The text had arrived seconds ago, interrupting what was supposed to be his lunch. His peaceful thirty minutes away from the Iron Joker Outlaw MC gang he’d been working to infiltrate, part of an undercover operation co-run by the DEA and ATF.

A man could only stand so much moral filth in a day. He deserved a break.

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