Of Wolves and Men by G. A. Hauser Page A

outted without time to even think about his own sexuality, and the turnaround of what had been Butch’s demise becoming his own.
    After a half hour of driving, Charlie pulled into the lot of the Other Side Tavern. He shut off the truck engine and climbed out, stuffing his keys into his pocket as he opened the entrance door.
    It was dim and smelled like stale alcohol. Men were playing pool, darts, or watching sports on TV.
    Charlie approached the bar. When he was given attention he said, “I’d like a beer, please.”
    “Certainly. Anything to eat from the kitchen?”
    “I’ll have a think on that.” Charlie removed his wallet from his pocket and tossed money on the counter. He took the cold glass and sat down at a table in the corner. Once settled, his hat on the chair beside him, his coat tossed over the back of the seat, Charlie sipped it, staring off into space.
    Chapter 9

    A group of ATF special agents gathered at headquarters for a briefing. Wearing a black t-shirt and black cargo pants, Roman sat on top of a desk while his supervisor, Nick Hoffman, spoke.
    “Our role is one of back up and information gathering.”
    Roman was only identifiable as an agent by his badge and gun, hanging from his belt at the moment. Once the men figured out their involvement in this new assignment, they’d know how to dress.
    “There’s a rogue group running guns, booze, and illegal tobacco over in Utah, just southeast of Salt Lake City. The local police think it’s the Indian Reservation occupants. Casinos are illegal in Utah, so word is they set up some underground gambling houses and are using heavy artillery to defend it.”
    Roman glanced at the squad of men he worked with. They were well-trained, he trusted them, and liked them. He was also out and none of them gave a shit about his sexual preference, which increased his respect for them even more.
    “So our job, and the Feds’ job, is to act as intel for the state and local sheriff’s office. The Feds are sending in some agents as well who will assist us.” Nick pointed to Roman. “Burk, you and Dean do some background work on the tribal nations in that area.”
    Roman nodded. Philip Dean caught his eye, acknowledging it as well.
    “We’ll regroup at the UHP in Salt Lake City once we do a little ground work.” He checked his watch. “Any questions?”
    As several men spoke to the lead agent, Roman said to Phil, “Looks like we got the easy part for a change.”
    “For now.” Phil glanced at the men around them. “Wait until we find the cache of weapons.
    Then the real fun begins.”

    An hour later, he and Phil had all their gear loaded up in the trunk of their SUV; laptop computers, SWAT uniforms, and AK assault rifles. They hit Interstate 80 and drove from Reno to Salt Lake City in a caravan of black cars and SUVs. Roman was excited. New work in a different state, backing up local sheriff’s departments, that’s what he lived for.

    He and Phil checked into a hotel room near the Utah Highway Patrol headquarters. An hour later, they were sitting at their computers tapping into the history of the Ute and Shoshoni tribes, checking names against their computer data bases.

    “Not one with a criminal record.” Phil scratched his head and yawned. “Other than traffic violations.”
    “You think they got it wrong? What if it’s not the tribe setting up the illegal gaming. I’ve known biker groups to do more damage to the local area than Native Americans.”
    “I suppose that’s what we’re here to figure out.” Phil tapped more keys on the laptop.
    While Phil was at the desk in the hotel room, Roman sat propped up against the headboard of one of the double beds, his computer on his thighs. “The guys giving you any shit for rooming with me?”
    “Nope. Not a bit. They know you better than that. And I hope they know I’m straight and can’t be turned even by a guy like you, Burk.”
    Roman smiled as he browsed through web information for any