CH 1 Compromised

Raylan sat with his boots propped on his desk, Art scowled at him from his office which was nothing new. But this scowl came with walk-in duty, which he knew Raylan hated above almost anything else besides prisoner transfer, and since most people that were assholes while in Raylan's car ended up bloody or in a body bag he thought walk-ins were safest. The mountain of paperwork that came with having Raylan on his team had gotten ridiculous to say the least. Art smirked as he saw Raylan take statements and make reports,' Now you know how it feels,' he chuckled.

"Well, if we hear anything about a stolen Monte Carlo we will be sure to contact you right away," Raylan tipped his hat to the man and started the paperwork," Y'know if I get one more bullshitter I think I'm gonna go crazy."

"Then what? Go on a shooting spree?" Tim jeered.

"Oh you're cute," he flipped Tim the bird.

"Why Raylan I didn't know you had such deep feelings for me."

"Am I interrupting something?" Art strode out of his office, files in hand," I can always leave you two lovebirds alone."

"What you got for me, Art?"

"Who said it's for you, Raylan? I like being able to put my eyes on you, it's the only time I can pretend you do what I tell you."

"Very funny, Art," he said, Rachel and Tim both snickered.

"I want you to follow up on a lead, I got a call about some smugglers coming through Lexington, seems there's a market for cocaine and fentanyl now," Art smiled," I don't think you can screw this one up if you tried."

"The confidence is inspiring," he flashed a shit-eating grin.

"Tim, I want you to follow up on the other lead," Art put the other file on Tim's desk.

"Boyd Crowder?" Raylan rolled his eyes," You want me to go talk with Boyd?"

"You have your assignments," Art was already walking away.

"Well at least you two get to leave the office," Rachel chided," I'm stuck here with Art Mullen the Grouch riding the desk."

"I'll take that," Raylan grabbed his jacket.

Boyd Crowder wasn't a difficult man to find, most of the time he could be found at his bar with Ava. Raylan pulled up, remembering all the times he and Boyd had tried to kill each other and somehow each of them just kept surviving it. Every time they met he wondered if one of them would die, he was hoping he'd be quicker on the draw than Boyd. The bar had gotten some new upgrades since he'd been there last, although he didn't make it a habit of frequenting Boyd's bar unless he was there to arrest or interrogate someone, usually Boyd. He was a weaselly little guy, but if you saw past his vests and silver tongue you saw the real Boyd. A well built man with enough muscle and experience to give Raylan a run for his money in a fist fight, but Raylan was a quicker draw. Boyd always said if Raylan ever met a man who was faster on the draw it would be the day he died.

"Raylan Givens!" Boyd announced his entry.

"You always did know how to make an entrance."

"Something which you lack," Boyd punched his shoulder playfully, like they were old friends greeting one another. Yeah. Right," I take it you're not here to drink up my whiskey," Raylan couldn't figure out if he was making a statement or asking a question.

"No, Boyd, I'm not."

"Well what brings you into my establishment? Would you care for a drink while we chat?" He added the last part as an afterthought.

"Got a tip someone's bringing some treat bags to Harlan," he nodded as the bartender handed him a shot glass.

"Girl Scout cookies?" Boyd smiled as he toasted Raylan and they both downed their shots," I always tried to stay away from them as they can be quite addicting. So what are we talking? Thin mints? Tag alongs?"

"Cocaine cookies with Fentanyl filling."

"You don't waste words, do you?" Boyd brushed his hands on his vest," Now why would you think I knew anything about that?"

"Worth a shot, considering nothing illegal happens in this state, and a few others, that doesn't have Boyd Crowder's name on it."

"Now I am flattered, Mr. Givens."

"Oh so it turns into Mr. Givens when you feel threatened?"

"I am not an easily swayed man, I just address you in whatever way I deem appropriate depending on how hard you decide to bust my balls that day," he waved for another round," I think I've been more than generous, after all every time you've come here I've always let you drink my whiskey, most of the time for free."

"Boyd, if you know something about this it's best if you just let me know now."

"I can honestly say I do not," he slid Raylan another shot.

"Would this be the first time you're being honest with me, Boyd?" Raylan tipped his hat and downed the shot, enjoying the way it burned down his throat.

"Raylan," Boyd showed surprise that would have been mistaken for being genuine to anyone who didn't know better.

"See? You did it again," Raylan drawled," using my name now that you think the threat has passed," he turned the glass upside down," but I promise, if you're connected to this in any way I'll find out."

"I hope you find out who *is* at the end of this rainbow you're chasing, because it looks as if we have a common enemy," Boyd bowed eccentrically," but if I happen to come across some helpful information…"

"Boyd, I know you're still smuggling drugs," Boyd put his hands up defensively," you don't have to admit to it, I know you're doing it, my boss knows you're doing it, the entire state of Kentucky and a few surrounding states know you're doing it. So cut the bullshit. If you come across some useful information I can look more kindly on you when I bust your operation, and I will bust you one day."

"Well, let me step into my office and make a call," he hopped the bar and grabbed a bottle," you can enjoy this while you wait," he set it down with a fresh glass.

Raylan decided to take him up on the offer, he poured a generous glass of bourbon and took a long leisurely sip letting the smell bring memories back to him. Memories of his first job at the coal mine and the first time he'd ever lay eyes on Boyd,' Skinny little shit,' he reminisced fondly,' but Goddammit he could dig,' he felt the familiar buzz settling into his head and didn't pour another glass.

Boyd returned," Now Raylan, I feel the need to apologize."

"Boyd, I swear to-" Raylan trailed off as he saw Boyd coming back in with his hands up, a masked man behind him with a shiny silver pistol to his head," Now listen here, I don't know who you are," he regained his composure and poured another glass of bourbon," but if you kill him, I will have time to finish my drink before I put at least two holes in you," Raylan unsnapped his holster and put his hand on his Glock," So put the gun down and lie facedown on the floor."

"And you'd kill me right here, cowboy?" The masked man asked.

"I've had this conversation before," Raylan took a sip of bourbon," I don't draw my side arm unless I'm gonna shoot; and if I'm gonna shoot, I shoot to kill," he turned to face them," otherwise why carry a gun in the first place? So I'll say it one more time, in case it's hard to hear with that mask over your head, put down the gun and…"

"And if I kill him you think you'll have time to kill me."

"Dammit, don't interrupt me," Raylan was starting to get annoyed," it's rude; but matter of fact yes, I think I'd have plenty of time to kill you. As I was saying, put down the gun and…"

"Would you have time to kill them?" Raylan heard footsteps at his back, which he wasn't sure exactly how he hadn't noticed them before. He usually put his back to a wall for this very reason, but this masked asshole with a gun to Boyd's head had made him compromise that," I believe it is you who should put your gun down and get on the floor, Marshal."