‘Nope.It’s a calling.’He even sighed at the ceiling, like he was expecting applause—or some sort of divine intervention from the patron saint of BS.
She studied him for a moment.Sure, he was ruggedly handsome, but under all the swagger, the winks, and the cheekiness, there was something serious about Stone Kipp.
And for the first time, Taryn saw the pattern not just in the people, but in the purpose.
Finn hadn’t just built a squad.He’d somehow built a cause.
But she still didn’t trust him.
Eight
The short and sharp session with Stone had left Taryn with two pages of scribbles, half a headache, and the unmistakable sense that the Stock Squad wasn’t just cobbled together—it had been carefully curated by Finn.The so-called mastermind.
And yet none of this matched her orders.
She’d been sent to audit a waste of government funding.Specifically told totear it apart with a fine-tooth something-or-other.
The briefing had painted a picture of unqualified misfits, paying their mates to gallop around the outback like cowboys with badges.No resumes.No job descriptions.Not even proper job titles for half the roles, let alone documentation for bizarre purchases like sand for rodeo bulls to roll in.
It was utter, unapologetic chaos.
And somehow… it was working.The case files—those few she had access to— proved that.
She hadn’t even interviewed the full team yet, and she was a long way off from finishing her investigation—but maybe, just maybe, Finn Wilde actually knew what he was doing.
In dire need of coffee, Taryn headed back to the front desk area, expecting the usual silent treatment, but Tanisha offered her a nod and—was that—asmile.
‘Thank you for the catnip kit,’ she said, swinging her legs from her high stool to match the front reception counter.‘You’ve bought some civility.For now.’
Taryn grinned.Diplomacy and bribery still worked.
She was halfway through making herself a terrible instant coffee when another police officer strolled in.Utility belt slung over one shoulder, NT Police shirt unbuttoned and flapping, with his hair windswept as if he’d driven through a cyclone and enjoyed it.
He pulled off his sunglasses and squinted at her like she’d grown a second head.‘Hello.And who might you be?’He was polite, even.
‘That’s the Fed touching our kettle,’ Tanisha answered.
‘Is that a problem?’Or did Taryn need to add coffee to her list, to steer clear of their kitchenette?
‘Only if you break it.Or leave the milk out.Then we’ll all have to suffer one of Tanisha’s scoldings.’The man grinned.Big and easy.
He dumped his police belt down with a thud onto the large table and nodded at her cup.‘Are you making it that strong on purpose?Late night?Or is the coffee trying to help you fight something?’
‘It’s fine-ish.’Oops, she’d forgotten how many spoons of coffee she’d put into the cup.
‘Sure it is.’The senior constable reached past her and gently tugged the spoon free from her hand like he was disarming her.‘Sit down, Fed, and I’ll make you one that doesn’t taste like regret.’
‘You’re offering to make me a coffee?’
‘Why not?You’re notmyenemy.’He shrugged, plucking up a fresh mug for himself, and Tanisha’s prickly cactus cup, then went about making coffee for everyone.‘I’ve still got my job.Still got a station to work out of.And I get you’re just doing your job, but it doesn’t mean we can’t have caffeine and some civil conversation when working in the same space, right?’
Tanisha spun around in her high stool, her immaculately groomed eyebrows arching, with her claws quietly retracting.
‘Who are you?’
‘Senior Constable Porter,’ he added, grabbing the milk.‘NT Police.I live here.Well, notherehere.Just… you know.Around.’
The interaction was so normal.Without any of the clipped silences or side-eye looks as if she’d kicked someone’s dog on the way in.
