“I don’t know but it doesn’t look good.” Mason shook his head.
“There must be a problem on his ranch,” Free tapped some keys on his tablet. “I haven’t gotten any notifications from his security system. Hell. Maybe the storm blew some of them down.”
Mason asked Jesse to sit in Clark’s chair while he waved Mr. Walker over to his desk. “Mr. Walker, do you remember me? I’m Officer Mason. I took you and your son’s vandalism report a few months ago and introduced you to Freeman.”
“Of course I do.” Mr. Walker wiped furiously at his forehead.
“Please sit down.” Mason pointed to the client chair beside his desk. “What are you doing out this time of morning, sir?”
“Well, I’d prefer not to be, but I didn’t know anywhere else to go.” The old man shook his head. “That there brick was thrown through my living room window about an hour ago.”
Mason took the brick and read the note that was secured to it with a rubber band. It was a warning to leave or there’d be plenty more where that came from. “I didn’t know you were still having problems out there on your farm.”
“It’s getting out of control. My son is so damn stubborn, he hasn’t wanted to call Free or his boyfriend, Hart, for help… so I came myself.” Mr. Walker stomped his cane angrily on the floor. “I don’t know why someone is after us.”
“This is serious,” Free said, tapping on his tablet. “It looks like the cameras I set up on the backside of the property have been damaged.”
“Where’s your son?” Mason asked, remembering the stocky cowboy in the big black Stetson who’d come with his father the first time they filed a complaint.
Now it was happening again, or still happening. Mason logged back in to his computer to take Mr. Walker’s statement. It was past time for him to go home and spend some much-needed time with Jesse, but he had a soft spot for Mr. Walker, and Mason hated that he and his son were still being bullied on their own property after all this time.
“Bull took after them on Smoky, but he lost them. He’s so angry I don’t know what he might do. I don’t know what to do either.” Mr. Walker sighed. “I was hoping to see one of you boys here tonight.”
“My boyfriend is right there,” Free said as Hart was making his way through the maze of desks in the bullpen. He had on his crisp white SWAT Captain T-shirt and dark navy cargo pants instead of his black tactical uniform, since they were out of the field for the next month for recertifications. “We were just about to head out, but I know he’ll want to help.”
“Walker,” Hart greeted in his loud, gruff voice that all SWAT members seemed to possess and stuck his hand for the old man to shake. Hart crossed his big arms over his barrel chest and added, “Nothing but trouble would bring you out this time of night. What’s going on?”
“I think I need you fellas’ help again. My boy’s too proud to ask, but I’m not.” Mr. Walker looked directly at Hart. “He’s gonna get himself killed. We ain’t in Texas anymore. He can’t just jump on his goddamn horse and handle it his way.”
“I’ll ask God if Ruxs, Green, and the guys can get out there later this evening and take a look,” Free told his boyfriend.
Hart slowly shook his bald head, running his hand over his thick beard. “No. There’s no time for that. God’s team just came off a big bust—they’ll be tied up with the prosecutor’s office for weeks.”
Mason winked at Jesse, remembering how much of a role he’d played in helping God secure the information he needed to get those dangerous drugs off the street. “Clark and I can go out there. I’ll see if I can get Tansy and Berdy to cover for us.”
“Out of your jurisdiction, Mason,” Hart noted.
“Let me go,” a confident, raspy voice said from behind them.
They all turned and saw Fox—Hart’s SWAT lieutenant—approaching with a sly grin on his face. “Come on, Cap. It won’t take me no time to find whoever the hell is doing this.”
Hart and Fox exchanged looks as if they were communicating in their own language. “It’d make more sense for me to send the sheriff’s department over there.”
“Again, you mean.” Fox ran his hand through the shorn strands of his silver-and-black hair. “Come on, Hart. Those guys have been investigating the same thing for months. I’m sorry, but those motherfuckers couldn’t find titties in a strip club.”
Mr. Walker and Jesse both released a startled bark of laughter.
Fox clamped his hand over his mouth. “Shit, sorry. The language comes with the job.”
Mr. Walker shrugged. “You can curse until the cows come home, just as long as you get these hoodlums to stay off my property before my son is put in jail for murder.”
“I’m on it.” Fox nodded. He and Hart exchanged serious expressions.
“You take a look only, see what you can dig up… and that’s all you do. Report what you find to the sheriff’s department in Walker’s county and let them make the arrest,” Hart ordered his lieutenant. “No cowboy shit, Fox. I mean it. You don’t need any more negative press.”
“Right, right. I got it. You can trust me. I’ll be in and out,” Fox smirked. “Of the county, I mean.”
“Damn,” Hart muttered. “This is gonna be a mistake.”
“Very slick, Fox.” Free chuckled as if this was some kind of inside joke the three of them had going. “But don’t you think Bull is going to get suspicious when you return with his father? His dad comes in to make a vandalism report and comes back with a SWAT lieutenant?”
“You let me worry about that, Freeman. I’m Fox. Being slick and suspicious is what I do.”
Jesse didn’t complain a peep as he sat there silently while Mason completed Mr. Walker’s paperwork and got his complaint filed. He left the older man in Free’s very capable hands, knowing he’d get him taken care of. Mason didn’t know why Fox was so eager to take such a simple assignment on a farm that would ordinarily be tasked to a rookie before the city used one of its most valuable resources. But he sure looked eager as hell. There was something there, a secret Mason wasn’t privy to, but maybe one day he would be.
“You ready, Jess?” Mason asked, putting his heavy jacket on over his uniform. “I kinda feel like pancakes.”
“IHOP.” Jesse smiled warmly.
“Yes, please,” Mason said. “I’m starved.” A notification chimed on his cell phone, and he paused, staring at the recently sent email.
“Everything okay, Ellis?” Jesse frowned.
“Um, yeah.” Mason laughed. “I forgot I signed up for a New Year’s singles meet retreat. They’re asking for me to confirm.”
“Oh,” Jesse said almost numbly.
Mason tapped a few keys, then put his phone away. “I signed up for that six months ago.” Before I met you, beautiful.
“Did… are you going?” Jesse asked in a low tone, walking stiffly beside him.
Outside, in the cold of the brisk Atlanta winter, Mason took Jesse—his friend, his lover—in his arms. “No, Jess. My New Year’s plans seemed to have changed. Besides, that retreat is for singles. And while I’m not married, I don’t consider myself single. Because I happen to have a very hot boyfriend in my arms right now that I’m kinda crazy about.”