Can't Shake You by Molly McLain

his gaze. “Always saving my butt.”
    Fletcher flashed an inquisitive grin. “That so?”
    Josh pulsed his jaw and snuck a sidelong glare at the woman who seemed intent on getting him strung up by the ‘nads his second day on the job.
    She pursed her lips cleverly. “Remember the road trip to Lincoln? The Shinedown concert? When Staff Sergeant Hudson here flashed his military ID and sweet talked that female trooper out of giving me a speeding ticket?”
    “That’s right!” Fletcher threw his head back and howled. “I thought for sure she was going to arrest him just so she could get him alone in her patrol car.”
    Josh fidgeted with the tie on his tool belt and allowed himself to laugh as well. Fake it ‘til you make it, right? Besides, he remembered that night too, and it had been damn funny. He’d barely been home a month and the whole newly-returned-hero bit had proved to be one hell of an aphrodisiac for the ladies, including the tough-as-nails Nebraska state cop.
    The only woman his hero status hadn’t seemed to affect however was Carissa. And he could only assume it was because of one—or both—of two potential reasons—the “been there, done that” effect or because she’d been too caught up in sharing his best friend’s bed.
    “Good times, good times.” Reed shifted his clipboard from beneath his arm. “But let’s get down to business, shall we? It looks like everything is pretty much in order. I’ll just need to issue Tony a permit to take over the electrical.” He filled out the temporary permit and handed Josh Tony’s copy. “Let me know when he’s got everything up to par.”
    “Will do.” Josh nodded his head and had just pocketed the piece of paper when his cell chirped. Ryan. Holding a finger to Fletcher and Carissa, he took the call. “What’s up, Ry?”
    “We’ve got another situation.”
    His blood ran cold. “What do you mean?”
    “The stained glass for Henry’s study?”
    “Which is in storage at the shop...”
    “Right. It is. It’s just no longer in one piece.”
    “You’d better be kidding me.” Josh scrubbed a hand down over his face. The imported Italian glass had cost over twenty grand and been a real bitch to get his hands on.
    “Wish I was. We came over to pick it up for installation and found the lock on the stall cut.”
    Motherfucker. “And?”
    “At least they left the baseball bat behind. Might be able to lift some prints.”
    “A friggin’ baseball bat? Jesus Christ.” Josh stalked toward the open kitchen window for air, sucking in deep breath after deep breath. Who the hell was doing this and why?
    “I’ve already called the sheriff,” Ryan added. “He’ll be here in about five.”
    “Fletcher and I’ll be there in twenty.”
    ***
    “W e’ll run the prints from the bat and the door through the system, but it won’t do any good at this point unless whoever’s out to get you has a record.” Mark Dunn, Tony’s cousin and the Cameron County Sheriff, gestured toward the storage stall where his deputy was hard at work with his dust kit.
    “I’d really like to know what I did to piss this prick off.” Josh swiped a hand over his hair. He had a good reputation and, for the most part, he was a well-liked guy. The only real enemies he’d ever acquired, he’d left behind in the desert.
    “Unless there are other contractors that haven’t come forward, it looks like he’s definitely targeting your business. Off the record, I’d say it’s either someone on the inside or someone who stands to benefit from all the damage,” Mark said.
    Fletcher nodded. “My gut’s leaning toward an inside job, too.”
    Josh shook his head. “No way. None of my guys would do something like this.”
    “So far, it’s not happening to anyone else, Hudson,” Fletcher reminded him. “And how the hell did this jackoff get into the Henry site and now here so easily? Who the hell would have even known about the glass, except your men?”
    An uneasy