Page 3 of Shielding Serena

Walker suppressed a laugh as Serena turned and shot a baleful glance at the door as it closed.

"He won't listen," she said as she finished putting Walker's coffee together, then pulled a fresh Danish out of the display case. "I get that this statuette is important to him. Apparently, it was his mother's and has been in the family forever and was accidentally put into the estate sale. Or something like that."

Walker hummed beneath his breath and took a sip of his latte, looking at her over the rim of the cup. She was more beautiful now than she'd been as a young woman, had matured from pretty into something that made his breath catch whenever he saw her. Her long dark hair was pulled into a tail, and her blue eyes were almost shocking in a face that was distinctly Native American, courtesy of her Nordic father. And her body, ah, her body was a work of art.

They’d put each other in the friend zone that day he’d walked in a month ago. It’d been unspoken, but there, nonetheless.

They weren’t the kids they’d been that summer so long ago, but over the last few weeks he’d started to get to know the woman she’d become, and found he really liked her. He wasn’t sure he had it in him anymore to hope for more than that.

Last week she’d mentioned she’d been burned by an asshole ex-boyfriend and he, quite honestly, had a less-than-stellar track record with women, as evidenced by an ex-wife who’d claimed he loved his damn friends more than he’d ever loved her.

He wondered if he and Carrie had ever truly been compatible. But the lust had burned hot and running away to Vegas had seemed like a good idea at the time, something impulsive and daring and fun. Something you did when you were a stupid lieutenant trying to reaffirm the fact you were still alive. She’d been looking for the safety net of the military after a childhood spent in foster care. She’d seemed happy until he’d separated from the Army and struck out on his own, began spending time at the ranch. She’d hated country life, had loved the glitz and glamor of Vegas. They couldn’t have been more opposite, and that difference in principles had been the death knell of their marriage. Even the money from the movie hadn’t been able to save it.

Throwing himself into the team she’d begun to despise had been his salvation, and now he’d come to the conclusion this was his lot in life. He’d tried to love and make himself vulnerable to someone, and it had failed. It was both of their faults for being young and dumb and valuing different things, but now he was older and wiser, and wasn’t willing to continue doing something he obviously sucked at.

So when it came to Serena, friends it was.

But it burned, in a place he didn't want to think about too much. Because what they'd had that summer, twenty years ago, had been special. It'd simply taken time and distance and war for him to realize it.

The door opened behind him, and he turned to see Garrett Hanson enter.

He and the Sheriff had been warily circling around each other for the past few months, after the shootout at the ranch and all the weirdness it had entailed. Walker didn't like the fact that they were on sketchy ground, especially with the new venture he was undertaking with the Brotherhood Protectors.

Hank Patterson’s right-hand man, Joseph “Kujo” Kuntz was due in tomorrow for a tour of the ranch and their operations and he'd like to have Hanson as an ally, not a potential foe.

In the weeks that followed the fracas last fall, the U.S. Marshal Service had spun the sheriff’s department as a bunch of two-bit hicks without actually saying the words out loud. Had implied that it’d been Garrett’s men who’d put the federal witness in danger through their inaction and Barney Fife aptitude, not the Service’s complete fuck up, which included a dirty Marshal.

The picture they’d created couldn’t have been further from the truth. Garrett had done his time with the military, then returned to serve in a different way. He’d brought his knowledge of battle and tactics and wrong and right home to Arizona after a dozen years in the Corps. Every single action he’d taken as the head law enforcement officer for the county in the aftermath of the mercenary raid had been by the book and on point.

But the falsehoods had done their work, and while everyone in the know understood the situation for what it was, it still had to sting Garrett’s pride. He’d been leery around the Last Light crew ever since, and while Walker understood the man’s reticence, he wished things were different.

Garrett took off his Stetson and ran a hand through his wavy brown hair, then dipped a nod at Walker as he stepped up to the counter. "Landry."

"Sheriff," Walker replied, and moved to the table closest to the counter.

"Good morning, Garrett," Serena said, a genuine smile gracing her face, making what she'd given the Higgins guy seem like a mere shadow. "Here or to go today?"

"To go, please," Hanson replied. Serena turned and began prepping his coffee, and Walker realized the Sheriff was a regular as well, even though they'd never run into each other here before. "Also wanted to see if you'd had any more trouble."

Walker narrowed his eyes at Hanson's words. What trouble?

Serena handed the man his coffee and shook her head. "No, it was a one-time thing," she said.

"What happened?" The words were out of Walker's mouth before he could stop them. She should have told him. They were supposed to be friends.

“Oh nothing,” Serena waved her hand as if to dismiss Garrett’s words. “Bored kids.”

The sheriff didn’t look convinced. “Yeah, I’ll give you it was kids goofing around with your artwork outside,” he said referring to the statuary garden comprised of funky folk art and metal sculptures that lined the entryway to the building. “That tracks for them, but I don’t like the fact that somebody was messing with your back door.”

That made Walker sit up straight. “Somebody tried to get inside?”

Serena rolled her eyes at their seriousness. “It all happened on the same day, late in the afternoon when the shop was closed and I was away from the house,” she said with a little bit of exasperation. “It was probably the same kids. There’s nothing of real value here, you know that. In fact, I’d just taken the last load of stuff over to the storage unit, which is why I was out that afternoon.” She shook her head. “Even thinking about the pile of boxes that Madeline bought at auction before she left gives me the hives. Somewhere in that mess is Mr. Higgins’ precious statuette, and whatever Marlon Jones is looking for.”

“Mr. Higgins?” Garrett asked, hit of interest in his tone. “And what’s this about Marlon Jones? I’ve been keeping an eye on him since he got out of jail.”

“Both of them are harmless,” Serena said. “Higgins is exasperating because he’s here every freaking day. Jones wants a necklace and earrings he saw in here a year ago for a girl he’s romancing. I haven’t had the time or inclination to go look for either of them. The inventory I moved to storage is cataloged and marked, but what Madeline left… well, you can guess.”

Garrett made a noncommittal noise, and Walker knew he didn’t agree with her about the men being harmless at all. Walker was in complete concurrence.