CHAPTER SEVEN
“WHAT DO YOU think that’s all about?”
From where he sipped his beer, Deputy Bradley Fletcher pulled his attention from the besotted bride and groom and followed his fellow deputy’s curious gaze across the expansive—and newly landscaped—roundabout of the Flutterby Inn.
Every nerve ending in his body fired against the cool Pacific breeze coming in off the ocean beyond the nearby cliffs. Over the din of conversation and the ever-so-faint tunes of a four-piece string quartet emanating from inside the landmark hotel, the nerve-racking sound of waves crashing against the rocks echoed in his ears. He shifted position, his knuckles going white around the bottle. How, after over fifteen years of living in the oceanside town of Butterfly Harbor, could the sound of the ocean still fill him with dread?
As he caught sight of Gil Hamilton chatting it up with a neighboring town sheriff, the anxiety and unease slipped to the back of his mind.
If there was one talent Fletch had honed in his thirty-one years it was his ability to know when someone—especially a suspicious someone—was up to something.
And there were few people in Butterfly Harbor more suspicious than their very own mayor.
“Excellent question.” Grateful for something to concentrate on other than his personal demons, Fletch straightened and tugged down the edge of his rented tuxedo jacket.
“Heard Mr. Mayor is getting a little anxious about the upcoming election,” Ozzy said in his own lowered voice. “With more than a year out, I don’t think Gil expected Luke to declare his intention to run for sheriff again quite this soon.”
“Gil isn’t a fan of anyone he can’t manipulate and control.” One of the reasons Luke Saxon had earned Fletch’s respect within his first few hours on the job had been the way he’d stood up to their former classmate turned boss. The onetime Chicago Bomb Squad officer didn’t take anything from anyone; not even the mayor who had reluctantly appointed him over his personal choice of the man he was currently speaking to. “Gil might put on a good show, but he hates the fact Luke’s approval ratings are higher than his. Even in a town this small.”
“You think Gil wants to talk Sean into running? You think Gil’s coming after Luke?”
“He wouldn’t be his father’s son if he didn’t.” Far across the manicured grounds of the iconic landmark hotel, Sheriff Sean Brodie gave the mayor a toothy grin. His chuckle carried across the breeze of the perfect late summer day and rankled the last nerve Fletch managed to hold on to. “Timing can’t be a coincidence,” Fletch said. “Not with Luke heading out of town on his honeymoon. I recognize an ambush when I see it.”
“What kind of ambush?”
“Another excellent question.” Fletch toasted his fellow groomsman and took a step away to grab two more bottles. “How about I go find out?”
“Fletcher.” Ozzy’s wide eyes grew even larger in his round face. The youngest and most rotund of Butterfly Harbor’s three deputies might be the smartest of them when it came to all the advancements in law enforcement, but he wasn’t exactly the diplomat of the group. Not that Fletch was much better, but he had half a lifetime of experience with their head politician.
“Don’t worry, Oz.” Fletch patted Ozzy on the shoulder. “I won’t do anything to cause a scene.” His only goal was to stave off any potential controversy that would mar Holly and Luke’s wedding. As best man, it was his job to make sure the happy couple’s day went off without a hitch.
As Butterfly Harbor’s longest-serving deputy, it was his obligation to protect the town and everyone in it.
Fletch maneuvered his way around people he’d known ever since he and his sister had come to live with their grandfather right before freshman year of high school. Shop owners and residents turned friendly faces, smiled at him and waved as he passed, the gushing comments and well-wishes echoing in his ears. There was little Bradley Fletcher enjoyed more than a big community event like the celebration today. Unless it was watching two of his favorite people find their way to happily-ever-after.
Not that he’d ever voice that out loud. Closet romantic that he was, Fletch would be more than content to take that particular character quirk of his all the way to the grave.
As he approached the two men—both of whom he’d had the displeasure of traversing his dodgy teenage years with—Fletch caught a flash of suspicion in the mayor’s eyes. Yep. Gil was definitely up to something.
When the suspicion faded and slipped into that familiar, over-wide, simpering smile on the face of a man who, by all rights, should be chilling out on a surfboard riding the waves far below them, Fletch shifted into what some of the kids in town would have called superhero mode.
Sans billowing red cape, of course. Fletch didn’t do capes.
“Mr. Mayor. Sheriff.” The title nearly caught in Fletch’s throat, but he was going to play nice with their neighboring town’s head of law enforcement. For now. “Pretty good turnout, wouldn’t you say?” He handed them each a beer and lifted his own in a mock toast. “Don’t think anyone stayed home today. Always great to see how much the town supports its local heroes.”
“I
