Gibbs glanced over at the bars of the jail, and the men who glared at him from inside. Doc Mallard had patched ‘em up, but the Frenchman and the Pinkerton Agent—Kort, he was called—were off the streets for good now.

Job well done.

Gibbs took in the pride in the eyes of the man beside him. He and DiNozzo had chased ‘em down for a few days, getting closer and closer, in every way. And now that they’d been caught, he wasn’t really interested in losing his new deputy. They’d been a good team, in and out of bed.

But now that it was done, DiNozzo seemed as if he was gonna jump out of his skin. He flinched at every motion. He couldn’t imagine what it was like for DiNozzo in one of the cities back east.

He took a breath, running his fingers over the badge he’d handed to DiNozzo last week. He wasn’t gonna let the man go without a fight and Sheriff Gibbs always got his man.

DiNozzo sighed, coughing a couple times and running his hands through is hair. “I should get going, Sheriff,” he said finally, the tone in his voice indicated he’d rather do anything but.

“Stay,” Gibbs said suddenly. “I need a deputy. You’re my man. If ya wanna stay…”

DiNozzo gave him a grin, all flashing green eyes and bright teeth. “I’m your man, Sheriff.”