Deadly Devotion (Soulscape #4)

Chapter 17

The Coldbrook Sheriff's Department was small, made up of only the Sheriff and three deputies, two of which were currently standing in Dennis' office. By the time he'd returned to town, he had regained control of his emotions as he forced away the personal aspect of the situation and tried to look at it as an actual case. He had to maintain his authority in the face of his deputies, and falling apart was not the way to go about it.

"What's going on, Sheriff?" Sean Morgan was the youngest of the deputies—barely twenty-years-old—yet in Dennis' opinion, his best. The young man was smaller than the others in both build and height and had an innocent face and soft, kind eyes beneath a head of light blond hair that reminded Dennis of corn silk.

The second deputy, Ken Wilson, waited in silence for his answer. Wilson had an athletic body, not as muscular as Bradley Dean, and a rough face that couldn't hardly be described as handsome. He was the oldest of the three, clocking in at twenty-nine-years-old. The man wasn't an ass like Dean, but neither was he overly friendly. He did his job and did so efficiently and by the book, but few folks warmed up to him.

"I want you to keep an eye out for Randall," he said. "He's off fishing with Deputy Dean and their buddies, but should be returning within a couple hours. I want to be informed the instant he comes into town."

Wilson's natural frown deepened, digging grooves across his brow. "Is there a problem with Randall?"

Dennis struggled with his boiling rage, holding it down. "I've issued a warrant for his arrest."

"What?" Sean's eyes widened. "On what charges, sir?"

Dennis hesitated, then simply stated, "Abuse."

"Abuse?" Ken Wilson stared at him. "Against who?"

A knot formed, constricting Dennis' throat but he held his emotions in check. "Benny." He swallowed and looked firmly at the two deputies. "That's all you need to know right now. If you see him, call me. Don't try to arrest him yourself. I'll deal with him personally." It was no secret to anyone in Coldbrook how special Benny was to Dennis. The look on both men's faces suggested they had an idea of how Dennis meant to deal with his brother—and didn't object.

"Dean isn't going to cooperate," Ken said. "Not with these kinds of charges brought against his best friend. He's been running his mouth about the newcomers, and you have to know he's going to blame all this on them."

Dean can go fuck himself, Dennis thought coldly and without remorse. "The charges are not associated with Frank Harlan and Zeke Matthews," Dennis said stiffly. "And even if they were, Dean doesn't make the call around here. I do." Bradley Dean was an ass, and he tried Dennis' patience, but would he continue to support Randall once he learned what the man had done to Benny? If Dennis found out that Dean was aware of Randall's perverted preference for children, it would be the end of the deputy. Perhaps in respect to more than just his job.

Forty-five minutes before he was to meet Frank, Dennis went home and showered. Still on duty, he dressed in a fresh uniform and returned to his office. His mind was wrenched in two different directions; stressed over this shit with Randall and at the same time, craving time with Frank. His body ached to be close to the man and the recollection of Frank and Zeke skinny dipping didn't ease the fire within. Nor the recent memory of Zeke's kiss.

By the time Frank arrived, Dennis felt like a mental case, battling his conflicting thoughts. Maybe it was a good thing he would be spending the evening with a psychiatrist; he seemed to be teetering on the brink of insanity.

♦

Frank had made one last ditch effort to convince Alec to come with him. The boy had declined yet again and insisted the Sheriff needed some "alone time" with Frank. Without being blunt about it—which was usually Alec's way—the young man had said and done and implied enough that Frank understood he was giving him the green light to do as he wished with the Sheriff. The vivid, life-like dream that Alec had taken him through remained strong in Frank's mind—and his body. It hadn't felt like a dream at all; Dennis' touch, the intoxicating tightness of his body as Frank had entered him, the heat and passion in their kisses. It felt more like a memory of a real event than a mere dream. Would it feel that good if it did happen in reality?