Carl’s smile was cold. “Disrespect. Drew’s been running his mouth, making accusations. Neil just helped him understand that actions have consequences.”
Victor’s hands remained still at his sides, but every muscle in his body had tensed. “I want this documented. I want Neil questioned, and I want charges filed.”
“You want a lot of things.” Carl stood, moving around his desk with deliberate slowness. “Here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to take your boy home, teach him to keep his head down and his mouth shut, and we’re all going to move on. That’s how things work here.”
“That’s not how the law works.”
Carl stepped closer, invading Victor’s space. “In my county, I am the law. And you’re nobody—someone who showed up three years ago thinking you could just fit in. This is Gaines territory. My grandfather was sheriff. My father was sheriff. I’m the sheriff. And someday Neil will be sheriff. You don’t get to come into my town and tell me how to run things.”
Victor had faced down insurgents in Fallujah who’d shown more integrity than the man standing in front of him. “So that’s it. Your son can assault mine and there’s no recourse.”
“Recourse?” Carl laughed, a sound devoid of humor. “You want to file a complaint? Go ahead. It’ll disappear into my filing system. You want to go over my head? State police won’t touch county matters without my say-so. You want to hire a lawyer? Good luck finding one within a hundred miles who’ll go against me.”
Carl leaned against his desk. “My son is going places. Full scholarship to play football at Montana State. NFL scouts are already watching him. Your kid? He’s fragile, weak. Maybe some tough love will help man him up.”
Victor had killed men for less. But this wasn’t a war zone. This was supposed to be civilization.
“We done here?” Carl asked.
