Ethan lifted his beer to his lips, his smile wide as he looked around at his friends. Not simply friends. Former teammates. Brothers, not in blood but in every other way.
It had been a year since they’d finished up in the military and months since they’d seen each other in person. Now here they were at Trap, a bar in his hometown of Deep River, Montana.
Fuck, it was good. Being away from them had felt like missing his right hand.
Connor leaned over the old wooden table. “What’s this music and why’s it playing from a jukebox?” He was the calm one on the team. The guy you went to for advice. Or just for someone to listen to you.
Joel, the joker of the group, grinned, dimple on display in his cheek. “It’s Johnny Cash. Don’t tell me you don’t know it. The jukebox, on the other hand…a bit outdated.”
“Don’t let Dusty hear you say that,” Ethan said, his gaze going to the big burly bar owner. His white beard was so long it ran over his large gut. He’d owned Trap for longer than Ethan had been alive.
“The bigger question is, what’s with the black-and-white TV? It’s a brick,” Ryan said. He was the team lead, and while Joel smiled the most, Ryan smiled the least.
Zac, the team medic, lifted a shoulder. “I like it. Makes me feel like I’m as far from a big city as possible.”
“Dusty doesn’t like change,” Ethan said. “And if you think this place is behind the times, wait until you try the black-and-white theater and Basil’s Pancake Bar.”
“Pancakes not good?” Ryan asked.
“Best pancakes in the world, according to a small-time magazine in 1990.”
Zac frowned. “1990?”
“Hasn’t changed the recipe at all. So according to him, the title stands.”
Connor chuckled. “I need to try them.”
“I’m more excited to meet this self-proclaimed psychic,” Zac added.
Ethan nodded. “She has a good track record. She predicted Basil’s shop was going to get robbed, and the next day, someone stole twelve-fifty from the till.”
This time, Ryan frowned. “Twelve-fifty?”
“I think old man Louis forgot to pay for his stack of pancakes with sausages.”
The team chuckled.
Ethan glanced around at his friends, a bit of the smile slipping from his face. “Still want to move here?”
“A job by the river where I get to work with my team?” Connor asked quietly.
“Sign me up,” Ryan answered before anyone else could.
“You have to understand what you’re signing up for, though.” Ethan swallowed, acid on his tongue. “We’ll get no support from the county sheriff. The opposite. He’s going to hate us muscling in and will make our jobs as hard as possible.”
“Shouldn’t he appreciate the help?” Connor asked.
“He should. He won’t.”
“How the hell is he the sheriff?” Ryan growled.
“No one’s ever run against him. And his latest four-year term started right before I got home. He’s got three years left.”
Joel scoffed. “If he’s too lazy to do his job, he should be welcoming us.”
Ethan shook his head. “He’s lazy, but he also likes the rush of being in charge.”
The guys scowled, and yeah, Ethan felt it too. The deep frustration that a man who’d signed on to protect his town wasn’t fulfilling his obligations. Meanwhile, they’d taken their oath to protect their country so seriously that they’d risked their lives on every single mission.
