Page 98 of Smoke Screen
Sheriff Kingston moved to the end of the table, sitting in front of a pen and pad, her posture erect.
Purposeful.
Controlled.
“All right.” She picked up the pen. “Who wants to explain to me why some guy talking to Phin got shot during a sidewalk sale? You realize, I’m sure, Grif, your cousin and the town manager, is going to lose his mind.”
“Maggie,” Zeke said, “I’m sorry. There’s an explanation.”
“There better be, or Phin may wind up behind bars.”
“Oh my God,” Maddy said, whipping her head back and forth. “No. He was just …”
Beside her, Phin cleared his throat. “I’ve got this.”
In other words, shut up.
Yelling from the outer room sounded, and Sheriff Kingston shook her head. “Terrific,” she muttered.
“Fuck,” Zeke said.
“Excellent,”Cruz said.
“This should be good,” Rohan said.
Phin sighed.
The door flew open and Special Agent Blackwell stood there, shoulders squared, eyes like lasers locking on each of his brothers. “What did you do?”
Before anyone could answer, he stepped into the room, swinging the door closed behind him. “Seriously!” He stalked to the far wall, paced the length of it and turned back. “What in holyfuckdid you do?”
Sheriff Kingston pointed at him. “Calm down and take a seat before I lock all of you in a cell.”
Special Agent Blackwell whipped around to face her. “Maggie, I need a minute with my brothers.”
“Not when a shooting has just happened in my town, you don’t. Are you here in an official capacity?”
“No.”
“Then you’re here visiting on a day when your brother meets with a man who’s been shot and may die?”
Her tone, that sort of flattened sarcasm, let everyone—at least in Maddy’s opinion—know that Sheriff Kingston wasn’t in the mood for games. Who could blame her?
When Special Agent Blackwell didn’t respond, Sheriff Kingston cut her eyes to Zeke. “Since Cam isn’t talking, how about you clue me in?” She sat forward, rested her elbows on the table. “I’m serious. I have no problem throwing all of your asses in jail.”
Second threat for a stint behind bars.
Phin rocked back in his chair, angling it to face the sheriff. “Maggie,” he said, “we can’t discuss it. We have an NDA.”
Her mouth flopped open. “AnNDA. That’s what you have to say?” She cocked her head. “I don’t think the guy who just bled all over my street would be satisfied with that answer. I don’t give a rat’s ass about your NDA. Start talking.”
Special Agent Blackwell ran his hands over his face. “What a mess.”
Phin jerked his chin at Zeke. “If we don’t tell her, she’ll make our lives hell.” He faced Maggie again. “Here’s the deal—”
“Phin,” Special Agent Blackwell warned. “Don’t.”
“No. If you’ve got a problem with this, leave the room.”
