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I’d taken the seat next to him, my brows furrowed, and said, “What’s wrong?”
He shook his head. “Nothing I’m really willing to talk about right now.”
I narrowed my eyes at him as my other brothers finished their orders at the counter, leaving us in relative peace for now.
“Gable,” I said. “I will literally force it out of you.”
He opened his mouth, then closed it, eyes sad. “I have to go back under cover.”
I leaned back in my chair, my hand wrapped around my coffee cup, and said, “You don’t have to do anything.”
He snorted. “I do this time.”
“Why are you saying that?” I pushed.
He opened his mouth and closed it with a click.
He looked torn, like he wanted to talk about it, but didn’t know where to start.
“Let’s just say,” he watched as the rest of our brothers headed our way. “This one time, I really don’t have a choice.”
My fingers clenched onto the coffee cup.
For him to say he had to, it meant that whatever was going on was internal.
“Is it someone we know?” I asked. “You’re going to go under cover for something at the department, aren’t you?”
He nodded once.
“What are y’all over here looking so serious about?” Garrett asked, his K-9 officer, Boss, at his side.
Garrett took a seat, then reached into his pocket and produced a bone, which he promptly handed to Boss.
“Where’d that come from?” Quincy asked as he took a seat.
“The chick at the counter,” he answered. “She thought Boss was cute.”
“Or she thought you were cute,” Quaid said as he took his seat beside Garrett. “Nance doesn’t ever have treats for the dogs. Isn’t that the girl who asked about Boss last time?”
Garrett’s eyes went to the woman behind the counter.
Mine went there, too.
The barista’s name was something that started with a B, but I couldn’t quite remember off the top of my head what it was.
“I remember she laughed at Trance when he asked about something for his K-9 officer.” Quincy chuckled.
I remembered that.
Trance, the man we got our trained K-9 from, had asked if Nance did pup cups like Starbucks did, and Nance had laughed in his face and said, “If you want Starbucks, go to fucking Starbucks.”
“Maybe she does like me.” Garrett batted his eyes.
“Or she wants you to fix a speeding ticket for her,” the man at the table next to us said.
I looked over to see a state trooper sitting there.
“What?” Garrett asked.
