Jet pinned her lips together and nodded.
“Now, why don’t you go home and get some sleep before your shift.”
That wasn’t a suggestion but an order.
She opened her mouth but he stopped her with, “You’re the youngest and the greenest officer on my force, Jet. When your chief tells you to do something, you do it.”
“I thought today you were my cousin.”
“I was until you brought up this shit. One thing you’ll notice is when our family gets together, that’s what we are, family. Nothing more. When we’re at work, we’re co-workers, not family. You need to learn to separate the two. It’s why it works for us. Don’t mess it up, Jet, by discussing work during family time. And let’s keep family shit out of work time.”
She nodded again. “Sorry.”
But she really wasn’t because now she knew exactly where the chief stood on the Shirley matter.
She would either have to sit on her hands and ignore whatever was going on up there and what the MC was doing on that mountain, or she’d have to find a valid reason for the PD to get involved without getting herself fired. If she did, that would suck and make it harder for her to get hired at another department. Especially if it was her own cousin firing her.
She loved her job and was lucky Max hired her since her former department had sucked. The male officers constantly disrespected her for being a woman doing a “man’s job” and called her a lesbian, and worse, behind her back. Or maybe they didn’t realize she heard them because they said it enough and didn’t try to say it quietly.
A couple of the officers there had actually suggested that she prove to them that she wasn’t gay by having sex with them. While she had told Max she was having difficulties with her former department, she hadn’t dug deep into the details. If her cousins or brother, or even her father and uncle, both retired cops, had found out how she’d been treated, they would probably go have a word with those officers.
And she wasn’t having that. She could handle it herself. Just like she could handle the job.
Just like she could handle a couple of bikers doing something they shouldn’t.
However, they knew what was going on up there. So, if she couldn’t go up there herself, they were her best bet to get the proof she needed so Max would take action.
Not that either would want to talk to her, but maybe she could convince them.
Or one, at least.
Maybe she’d have to pay that man a little visit and do some careful negotiating.
Chapter Five
Rook carefully carried the small dented metal bowl outside, trying not to spill the water on himself. Stepping out into the bright morning light, he squinted as he glanced around the front parking lot of Dutch’s garage looking for the mini-monster.
A fierce yapping promptly commenced under one of the vehicles scheduled for repair parked in a spot along the side.
“Cool your jets, asshole, I’m bringin’ you fuckin’ water.”
He went over to where the food bowl sat. He glanced down at it and toed it with his boot. Half-empty. Most likely because a raccoon or possum ate some during the night. But he guessed the large night rodents didn’t like to eat Mexican.
Especially a nasty little shit with a big mouth.
The Chihuahua scurried from under the Chevy where it was hiding and lunged in Rook’s direction before circling back to its hiding spot.
“Don’t make me rethink givin’ your puny ass food and water.” And a fucking box with a blanket to keep the little shit’s ass warm at night since it wouldn’t let any of them catch him. Or her. It. Whatever.
When he’d shown up at work two days ago, the little asshole was running in circles in the middle of the front lot, doing what it did best. Barking. And it had been barking and showing its miniature alligator teeth ever since, too.
They were hoping it would find its way home. No such luck.
Or that its owner would come looking for it. No luck on that, either. The former owner was probably thanking their lucky fucking stars the little bastard was gone. Or they’d been the one to abandon it on the garage property. A drop and dash.
This was the third morning he’d arrived to find the fucker still here and still alive. If the coons and possums didn’t want it as a snack, maybe an owl or hawk would. And a snack it would be since it might be only three pounds at most.
That first morning when he’d spotted it, he went inside and found his father. “Whose fuckin’ dog is that?”
“That what it is?” Cage asked. “Thought it was a rat that taught itself to bark. Rats are pretty fuckin’ smart, you know.”
“That thing’s uglier than a rat,” Rev called out from where he stood under a lift. “Hell, it’s uglier than Possum. And that prospect’s butt ugly.”
Rook snorted at that truth as Dutch shrugged. “Been out there all mornin’.”
He sighed. “Assholes are droppin’ off dogs now, too?” Kittens were always being dumped at their garage. Even a baby had been abandoned once on the property. That was how they found Dyna. Dropped off in a box like a litter of unwanted kittens. “Anyone try to catch it?”
Whip came out of the office and raised his hand, which sported a few Band-Aids. Five, at least.
Rook’s brow lifted. “Christ, that little fucker do that to you?”
The young mechanic nodded. “Yeah, went to pick it up and it snapped at me like a fuckin’ crocodilly.”
A what? “Should we shoot it?” Rook asked his father.
“Don’t you dare!” came a female yell from inside the office. “Nobody’s shooting it!”
“Don’t get your thong in a wad, Reilly,” Rook yelled back to the shop secretary. “Christ.” Reese’s sister could incinerate a man alive without blinking, but when they talked about shooting a four-legged pest? That was a no-go for her.
Women.
“Didn’t you say you wanted a pit bull?” With hands on his hips, Cage stood in the open doorway and jerked his head outside.
Over his brother’s shoulder, Rook could see the little black and tan short-haired terror standing out in the middle of the lot. Even from where he stood, Rook could also see it shaking on three legs, one foot hovering in the air with its tail tucked and glued to its own belly.
“That don’t look like no pit bull,” Rook muttered, moving closer to Cage to stare out past him.
“Right. Those little ankle-biters are worse.”
“It got tags?” Rook asked him.
“Go catch it and see,” Rook’s brother suggested with a grin.
“Someone needs to catch it. It might scare off customers.”
Cage shrugged. “Any time someone walks through the lot, it runs away barkin’ like it needs to bark just to propel it forward. Like when Tater walks and farts.”
Rook side-eyed his brother. “Propel’s a big word for you.”
“No bigger than douchebag.”
Rook narrowed his eyes on his younger brother. “Sounds like you finally got the road name you deserve. Jemma call you that when she’s ridin’ your pencil dick?”
“No, she calls you that when she’s ridin’ my monster cock.” Cage grabbed his crotch and shook it.