Free One Night More by Mandy Baxter

his old life.
    “ Va te faire foutre .”
    Landon snorted. “Fancy. What the hell does that mean?”
    “Basically?” Galen shrugged. “Fuck off.”
    Landon rocked back on his heels and gave a low whistle, clearly impressed. “You really learned how to utilize the local dialect while you were over there.”
    “Yeah, well, I tried.” Galen couldn’t help the yawn that crept up on him. Damn, he was seriously jet-lagged.
    “Monroe should have let you get adjusted before calling you in,” Landon remarked. “But we’re sort of understaffed right now and he’s been covering. Did he brief you yet?”
    Galen stretched, eyed his empty Starbucks cup. It didn’t hold a candle to Corrine’s coffee. He’d need a caffeine IV before he’d be awake enough to think in a straight line. “Protective detail. What else?”
    It was too early in the morning for Landon’s mocking laughter. “Well, after tagging along with dignitaries for a year, you probably consider babysitting a civilian a piece of cake.”
    “Not necessarily. Though to tell you the truth, my protective detail in Paris wasn’t exactly action-packed.”
    “Well, PR-wise, Monroe knew what he was doing when he assigned this detail to you.” Landon parked his ass on Galen’s desk. “This is a high-profile case. The witness was standing about six inches from Senator Ellis when he was shot. According to the security guards who found her, she was hiding under a car, scared half to death, with the shooter about to tie up his loose ends. It’s been plastered all over the local news for the past two days. A total media shit storm.”
    Besides feeling like he was in a time warp, Galen was also way out of the loop with local—or national—news. Since touching down two days ago he’d done two things: first, check in on Michelle. Second, sleep. Followed up with more sleep. And he still felt like a goddamned zombie this morning. Transatlantic travel sucked. “I’m supposed to be meeting Monroe and the witness at nine. Hopefully the FBI won’t trip on their own feet trying to wrap this investigation up.”
    The FBI/U.S. Marshals rivalry was legendary and not relegated to the Oregon District. The Marshals had been the elite government law enforcement agency before the FBI took the reins away. Needless to say, the bitter feelings had been passed down through the generations.
    “Sean Davis is running point,” Landon said. “So you know it’s going to be a total cluster fuck.”
    Galen rolled his eyes and leaned back in his chair. Special Agent Sean Davis was an ex-Army Ranger and had all the people skills of a rabid dog. He didn’t work well with others, and likewise, never considered any theories or options but his own. Galen had met a few brick walls less stubborn than Davis. No doubt the investigation would drag out forever. People didn’t often respond well to dickish attitudes. Which didn’t bode well for their witness. “Great.”
    “Hey.” Landon bucked his chin toward the wall clock on the far side of the room. “Didn’t you say you were meeting Monroe at nine? It’s almost nine thirty.”
    “Shit!” Galen shot up out of his chair and took off toward Monroe’s office.
    “Good luck, golden boy!” Landon called after him.
    Galen didn’t look back, but he did give Landon the finger.
    Nothing like making your boss wait on the first day back to work . Jesus, he was exhausted. And his brain didn’t seem to want to get with the program. If it wouldn’t have drawn attention, he would’ve given himself a good, hard slap across the face. Sure, ass hats like Davis made jokes about witness protection and the marshals being nothing more than glorified babysitters, but truth be told, Galen considered it the single most important duty the USMS had. The responsibility of having someone’s life and safety in his care was something he took very seriously. And he wasn’t about to step into that office less than one hundred percent.
    When he got to the