“What you assholes don’t know is that Sinclair O’Malley is now known as Sergeant O’Malley. She is a Special Forces, decorated soldier who has seen action in both Iraq and Afghanistan.”
Sin was stunned at the words she was hearing.
The deputy walked forward and stood between her and Joey. “I’m pretty sure she has a right to carry a concealed weapon, so I’m not going to bother to ask her to show me the proper credentials. You on the other hand,” he eyed Joey, “I’m pretty sure are carrying an illegal weapon, so if you don’t lower it, I might just let her shoot you.”
Joey lowered his weapon and made a motion to place it back in the waistband of his jeans.
“I don’t think so,” the deputy said. He held out his hand so Joey could hand it to him. When he did, the officer pulled out a set of handcuffs and cuffed him to the door handle of the F150. He then did the same thing to the other two. He let Bubba, who was out cold and bleeding, lay on the ground and radioed in for a paddy wagon and an ambulance.
“You know we’ll be out of jail before we’re ever charged,” Joey laughed.
“Yep, I know.”
The deputy then turned toward Sin. She un-cocked her gun and returned it to her waist holster that sat under her tight tee-shirt.
“Now, I would appreciate it if you showed me your credentials that allow you to carry a military issued gun while off duty,” he said.
Sin smirked, walked toward her bike, and pulled her identification out of her saddlebag.
“I’m still on active duty and have the right to defend myself from jack-offs whether they are in the desert on the other side of the world or right here in my own backyard,” she said.
He glanced at her creds, smiled, and handed them back to her. “Nice homecoming, Sin. Mind if I ask why you came back to a place you swore you never would return to?”
“I just came to see my father. I understand he’s dying. Once I do and get his affairs in order, I’ll be on my way.”
The deputy started walking into the bar. “Come on and I’ll buy you a drink.”
They sat at the bar as some of the older locals came up and thanked her for her service. The younger ones just glared at her.
He ordered water and she ordered a shot of bourbon.
She stared straight ahead as she put the glass to her mouth and shot down two fingers of Jack Daniels without as much as a flinch. “I didn’t need your help back there,” she said.
“Who said I was helping you. Those boys were in way over their heads. I was helping them.”
She twisted on her barstool and looked him in the eye for the first time. “So has the biggest asshole of them all finally made something of himself?”
The deputy took a sip of his water and rose from his stool. “Some of us can change, Sin.” He looked her straight in the eye. “And some of us are still the same bitter, nasty-mouthed, bitch they were seven years ago.”
She tipped her shot glass towards him. “It’s nice to see you too, Troy.”
6
Sin rode into the makeshift garage, a converted shed that sat beside the home she shared with her father growing up. Using the key that was under the flowerpot on the front stoop, she unlocked the door and made her way into the home she had sworn she would never step inside of again. Thoughts of the argument she had had with her father when he found out she had enlisted filled her head as the screen door squeaked open.
The house was musty and filled with dust as she made her way through it. It wasn’t like her father to have any dust in the house. As a teenager, she would spend the entire weekend—the time not spent in church—dusting and vacuuming. On Sundays, before they would leave for evening service, her father would inspect her work. He had been a Chaplin in the Marines before settling in the Keys and becoming the pastor of the United Fundamentalist Church of the Lower Keys.
Sin sat in the den of the house and held a picture of her mother. The picture was taken when she was in her mid-twenties. She was sitting on a blanket at the beach. Sin’s fingers traced her mom’s features, shocked at how much she looked like her at that age. She passed away when Sin was nine, so her memories were faint.
“You look so much like her.”
Sin knew who belonged to the Spanish accented voice before even seeing her. Sin lifted her head and her eyes sparkled with love and affection. Carmelita’s heavy square heels struck the floor in a comforting tap as the woman approached. Sin stood up and practically threw herself at the older woman, hugging her with more joy than she ever thought imaginable. Taking a deep breath, Sin could smell Carmelita’s shampoo. “It’s so good to see you,” she whispered.
“It’s good to have you home,” Carmelita said. “This place missed you.”
Sin relaxed her embrace and stared at the older woman. “You’re still as beautiful as I remember.”
Carmelita blushed. “Come and sit, Ms. O’Malley and I will make us some espresso.” Sin went to speak, but Carmelita held up a finger, a finger with a well-manicured red nail. As hard as Carmelita worked, she always looked like a lady. She lowered her hand and said, “First the espresso and then we talk. We have much to discuss.”
Sin acquiesced and bowed her head with respect. “Si, Madre.”
Sin spent the next few minutes in front of the full-length mirror trying to make herself look presentable. Carmelita was the only person for whom she ever felt the need to look ‘put together.’
“You are stunning just the way you are,” Carmelita said, reentering the den.
Sin quickly took the sterling silver tray from her hands and placed it on
