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“Yeah, but to post a photo like that—” She looked at the screen when it alerted her another message popped up. She started laughing.
“Now what?”
“He asked me how I liked it.” She snorted, then typed back an answer.
“Don’t encourage him for God’s sake,” Creed said. She turned the laptop to him, and he laughed. She had sent ‘meh’ back.
“Men.” She shook her head.
“I promise to never send you a dick pic.”
“Well, let’s not get hasty here,” she said and laughed when he did.
“You can always ask.” He winked at her, and she winked back.
****
A few days later, Creed sat at the counter in the diner, his fork clanking lightly against his plate as he ate his breakfast, Creed chatted with Luke and Luke’s brother, Beau about the various cases they were working on. The warm scent of maple syrup and butter wafted through the air, mixing with the aroma of freshly brewed coffee.
His phone buzzed from inside his coat pocket, breaking the flow of conversation. Setting down his fork, Creed reached for his cup of steaming coffee before glancing at the caller ID. A grin spread across his face when he saw it was a message from Abbie.
Raising the cup to his lips, he took a small sip before opening the message. His eyes widened in surprise as he read her request: Send me a dick pic followed by two emojis. One an eggplant and the other a laughing face. He nearly choked on his coffee and had to set the cup down hastily.
Beau smacked him on the back, concern etched on his face as Creed coughed and sputtered. Taking a quick gulp of water from his glass, Creed tried to compose himself.
“You okay, man?” Beau asked with genuine concern.
Creed could only nod, afraid that if he opened his mouth, he’d burst out laughing. Damn, he liked her and couldn’t wait to see her again this weekend.
After finishing breakfast, he, Beau, and Luke returned to the office. He checked for any updates on the missing three cattle from the Fields’ ranch, but there was no new information.
He reluctantly admitted to himself that those three cattle were likely gone for good, most likely slaughtered by the thieves. He had seen cases where none of the stolen livestock were ever recovered. It happened all too often.
Art Fields was fortunate to have seven out of ten of his cattle returned. Creed wished he could have found them all for the man’s sake.
He would continue searching for the remaining three, but chances of finding them alive were slim to none. If they were still alive, they would have been found with the others. But who knows? Rustlers operated in strange ways, and their motives often made no sense to him. However, they often made mistakes and got caught eventually.
Creed regretted not being able to get more information from the thieves during their interrogation. They refused to talk. Perhaps when they were sentenced, they might change their minds and cooperate in exchange for a lighter punishment. He didn’t like the idea of leniency for these criminals, but if it meant recovering more stolen livestock, he would consider it.
Chapter Seven
The men moved through the dense forest, their steps muffled by layers of fallen leaves and twigs. Creed quickly looked to his left when he heard a twig snap, but lowered his weapon when he saw Alex. Creed gave the signal to move closer, then he motioned for Eli to call out to the rustlers.
Creed watched as he stepped out from behind the tree, his weapon ready. The rustlers spun around to face him, their hands instinctively reaching for their guns.
“Livestock agents, drop your weapons and put your hands up!” Eli yelled.
But Creed knew those men wouldn’t surrender without a fight. Mac, Alex, and Creed emerged from the trees; guns trained on the rustlers.
“You heard him! Drop your weapons and put your hands up!” Creed shouted. “Hell,” he muttered, as sudden gunfire erupted from all directions. Creed saw Mac fall as a bullet struck him in the chest and he knew the rustlers were armed with armor piercing bullets. He spun around when he heard Alex swear and put his hand on his jaw, then a bullet hit him, and he fell. Turning back, he saw Eli running toward Mac, but a bullet struck him, and he hit the ground.
Creed watched as each of his fellow agents crumpled to the ground, their bodies falling limp. He quickly made a call for backup. Spinning around, he unleashed a barrage of bullets and made a desperate dash toward the cover of the dense foliage. His sprint was abruptly halted as a burning pain tore through his upper back, causing him to collapse onto the ground.
Gasping for air, Creed found himself forcibly turned over by a group of menacing figures looming over him.
“Looks like we’ve caught ourselves a live one,” one of them sneered.
“Just leave him, he’s done for,” another grunted.
