Page 21 of Far From Sherwood Forest

With a smug smirk, I start backing away toward the door. “Catch me if you can, Sheriff. I mean…Ranger.”

His glare full of heat and hate follows me all the way out of his office. I leave his door open just to burrow an inch deeper under his skin.

After giving Laura a farewell smile and wave, I head outside to see Spencer opening the door to his truck.

“Ready to do this?” he asks.

“Of course.” Removing my hands from my pockets, I toss the set of keys I stole into the air, unable to control the grin still taking up half my face. “Henry actually let me borrow his truck, so I’ll meet you down at the visitor’s center.”

Spencer narrows his eyes, and I have no doubt if he had to guess the truth, he’d guess correctly.

He throws his hands in the air before getting behind the wheel. “I don’t wanna know.”

Laughing, I grab my duffel bag from the bed and walk over to the newer black pickup. I throw the bag into the bed of Henry’s truck and climb in.

Hopefully, he doesn’t come after me until after the tour.

After that?

I kind of hope he catches me.

Robin stole my fucking truck. As if I needed one more reason to hate him.

When I realized my keys were missing, I immediately stormed outside to find my truck gone too. I marched right back to my office and swiped a stack of papers and my coffee mug off the desk so hard that the mug hit the wall and shattered. Laura ran over and is currently standing wide-eyed in the doorway as coffee drips down the beige wallpaper.

“Are you okay?” she asks, her voice laced with a mix of concern and fear.

I lean over my desk with my back to her, my vision blurring into black and my knuckles turning white as I grip the edge. My words come out through gritted teeth as I say, “I need to borrow your car.”

“Sure. I mean, as long as you bring it back.” When I peer over my shoulder, unintentionally bringing my scowl with me, she smiles. “Please.”

Laura is too kind for her own good. Her not fighting meabout borrowing her car is mostly because of that and probably only a little because she’s afraid of me.

“Thanks,” I mutter, feeling obligated.

“Huh,” she mutters as she turns away.

“What was that for?” I ask before she can get far.

“Nothing,” she calls back as she heads toward her desk. “Just never heard you thank someone before.”

It’s only because she’s helping me by giving me the means to go after Robin, and something like that deserves at least alittlegratitude—which is a lot more than I’m usually capable of offering.

Rounding my desk, I slump into my chair with an annoyed huff. Laura comes back a moment later and silently dumps her keys beside my computer before leaving again. I consider going after Robin now but decide against it. If I find him in the middle of his wildlife tour, well…that’s too many witnesses.

Given the circumstances, I skip my morning patrol but tell Laura to let everyone know I’m on call. Fortunately, I’m not forced to leave to deal with someone else’s mess. I spend the morning fuming and cleaning up my own mess instead, reorganizing all that paperwork in an attempt to distract me from those hottest parts of my anger that keep flaring up.

After lunch, I grab Laura’s keys and go out to her car. It’s warmed up considerably since I got here this morning, so I toss my jacket onto the passenger seat as I start the engine.

Since I know the tour must be over, I have no idea where to find Robin. Or my truck. I drive over to the visitor’s center first, but neither are there. I’m not sure what the chances are that he’s even still here in the park, but I drive around the entire thing anyway.

About fifteen minutes later, I spot my truck. It’s parked in the grass off the road, close to the campsite that I brought him to the other night. It’s behind some shrubbery, but he clearlywasn’t trying to leave it perfectly hidden.

Parking Laura’s car, I get out and walk over, throwing the driver’s side door open. The keys are in the ignition, and I don’t see Robin around anywhere. I could take my truck and fucking leave him.

But what’s waiting for me on the driver’s seat stops me.

It’s a bow, one like Robin used to use back in Sherwood Forest—a classic wooden, one-piece bow. It looks handmade, as do the arrows and the quiver.