Stone Cold: A Bad Boy Romance (30 page)

The sun was barely rising as I walked out of the Main Street coffee shop. The owner had moved on and the new management hadn't picked a name yet. I took a sip and the mediocre coffee warmed my throat. I'd die for a Starbucks right about now. The police station was empty as it should be at six in the morning. I turned on the lights to my small office and sat down. I took another long pull of coffee and threw away the rest. I was going to have to learn how to make my own coffee.

Today was going to my first real day as sheriff of Sacks County and I wasn't going to waste it. I opened the folder for the Death Merchants and grabbed Garcia's thick file. His rap sheet was longer than entire gangs I put away in Los Angeles. Kidnapping, rape, murder. This man had done it all and somehow got away with it. I looked over the trial notes and a common theme ran through each one—the star witness for the prosecution was nowhere to be found.

Officers came through and said good morning. Johnson was absent and I was kind of glad. He could stay away forever for all I cared. I didn't need such womanizing men in my station.

Officer Moore walked in and almost tripped over the threshold. I bit my bottom lip to keep from giggling. He was trying so hard to impress me. “Sheriff White, I have a Mr. Garcia here for his appointment.”

“Thank you, Officer Moore, you're dismissed.” I closed my eyes and chanted to myself.
You got this, White. Don't let him run all over you.

A Mexican biker strolled in wearing all leather. A small mustache hugged his upper lip and a black eye-patch was over his left eye. Tattoos of all kinds covered his arms including a gun pointed at the Virgin Mary. He was only a tiny bit intimidating. “Where's Sheriff Mendoza?” he asked, standing in the doorway.

“You didn't see the press release then.” I stood up and put out my hand. “Name's White, I'm the new sheriff in town.” My inner schoolgirl was giggling off to the corner. I'd been waiting my entire life to say that.

Garcia laughed and ignored my hand. “They hired some chica to run this town. I knew Mendoza was an idiot.”

This town was going to need a wake-up call. I disregarded his remark and motioned for him to sit down. Garcia glanced behind and noticed two armed guards at the door. I knew he wouldn't try anything in the middle of a police station but I wanted him to know that I didn't take chances. The biker reluctantly sat down and crossed his arms.

“Look Mr. Garcia, I know we're enemies here. But we have one thing in common: a desire to see less blood on the streets. I know about your upcoming war with the Rabid Dog MC and I want to try and stop it. I didn't come here to try and shut any of of the MC's down. I know I need to work with them to make sure this town runs smoothly. But I can't have innocents dying on my watch.”

Garcia listened intently and leaned forward when my speech was over. His right eye twitched and I wondered what happened to his left. “Listen here, puta, I don't work with the cops. I kill cops. The Rabid Dog MC is going down and there's nothing you can do to stop it.” Garcia pushed my desk and made me jump out of my seat. The two armed guards rushed into the room but I waved them away. “Better sleep with one eye open, Sheriff.”

That meeting was a disaster. A woman running this town was going to be harder than I thought. So many preconceived notions that women are trash that are only to be used for sex. I'd have a long uphill battle to change everyone's minds.

My watch read 9:30 AM which meant I still had a little time before the president from Rabid Dog showed up. I pulled out the MC folder and found Cole's file. He was older than Garcia and his rap sheet was almost non-existent—a few speeding tickets, breaking-and entering, and illegal use of firearms. He spent six months in jail but that was it. Either this guy was a saint or knew how to cover his tracks. He'd been president of Rabid Dog for a long time and probably racked up a lot of bodies.

Moore came in and looked nervous. Sweat was beading on his brow and he kept fiddling with his glasses. “The president of the Rabid Dog MC is here.”

“Well you don't have to be shaking in your boots. He's not going to kill anyone. Man up, Moore.”

Moore kicked his feet together and saluted. “Yes, Sheriff.” He marched out of my office and I couldn't help but laugh a little. He was the only man I could trust in this whole town and he barely had any brains.

I closed the Rabid Dog MC file when a towering figure entered the office. He wasn't Cole. I expected a tired old man. This guy was younger with shoulder-length blond hair and sleeves of tattoos on his arms. He was built like an ox and wore jeans with the famous motorcycle club leather cut. What was so cool about motorcycles and leather?

“I was expecting the president of the Rabid Dog MC,” I stated.

“And I was expecting the sheriff of Sacks County,” he replied, sitting down in the chair. He leaned back and put his boots on my desk, knocking over the few pictures I had. “Where's Mendoza?”

I tried my best to ignore his monstrous display of manners. “Mendoza retired. I'm the new sheriff.”

“Well isn't that funny. I thought the man would die before giving up his badge.”

I shifted my legs underneath the desk. “So where's Cole? I need to speak to the Rabid Dog MC leader.”

The stranger pointed at his left breast, tapping on a white patch that said: President. “Ours retired too. I'm the new leader of Rabid Dog, Sawyer Taylor.” He squinted his eyes and read my name tag. “Charlotte White, a female sheriff isn't going to last long here.”

I felt like taking out my gun and shooting him in the leg. That would show him who's in charge. The name Sawyer sounded familiar. I mentally scrolled through the list of Rabid Dog members and remembered Sawyer as the vice-president. The logical choice to replace the president.

“Well since we got that squared away, can we get on with business?” I asked.

Sawyer grinned. “By all means, Sheriff.” His dark eyes looked right into mine and then down my neckline.

Every man I'd encountered in Sacks had checked me out. Wasn't much different than LA. Except here, it felt like the men actually believed I'd be that easy. I took down some notes in the Rabid Dog file. “Sawyer, I'm sure you're aware that The Death Merchants are about to start a war.” I waited for him to acknowledge it but he just kept on staring at me. “I want to keep this town safe and I was hoping that we could work together. Maybe stop this war before it starts.”

Sawyer's eyes were glazed over. His lips were partly open and breathing heavily. Was this guy even listening to me? I pounded my fist on the desk and Sawyer blinked, waking from his daydream. “You're not paying attention.”

Sawyer lifted his boots off my desk and set them back on the ground. “Sorry Sheriff, what were you talking about?”

This man was so fucking frustrating. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, trying to remember how to meditate from my karate sensei. “As the President of the Rabid Dog MC, I was hoping you could prevent the war between the clubs.”

“Hey I don't want any collateral damage either. I'll do everything in my power to stop this war from starting.”

This was a lot easier than with Garcia. “That's all I ask,” I replied. I stood up to signal that it was time for him to leave. Sawyer sat in his seat, looking me up and down one more time before rising.
What a creep.

“Nice to meet you, Sheriff.” He winked at me before leaving.

Not going to happen, buddy.
Not in a million years.

I pulled up into the police station on my Harley and parked in between a couple black-and-whites. I'd been here plenty of times before. Mostly for bullshit charges like carrying a concealed weapon and getting in bar fights. I can thank Slade and Leland for that. Those guys were one second away from blowing up when they had alcohol in their system.

I swaggered into the front office, loving the fact that I didn't have bracelets holding my wrists together. The brunette secretary behind the counter looked up at me from behind her glasses. I recognized her from the bar a few weeks ago. I took her home and fucked her so hard she cried. I didn't remember her telling me she worked for the cops though.

“What can I help you with, sir?” she asked, ignoring the elephant in the room.

I leaned over the desk and checked out her cleavage. She blushed instantly. “I'm here to see the sheriff. Tell him it's the President of Rabid Dog MC.”

She nodded and picked up the phone at her desk. While she was busy talking, I ran through the events of that night. I couldn't remember her name but she liked it rough, like
really
rough. I still had the bruises and wounds on my back from her nails digging under my skin. I wouldn't mind taking her for a ride one more time.

Fuck and forget.

“Officer Moore will take you back to see the sheriff now,” she said, avoiding eye contact.

A skinny guy came around the corner and froze when he saw me. A small chuckle escaped my lips. This guy tried to pull a gun on me before at a bar and pissed himself. I ended up breaking his nose with his own weapon. Fun times.

I walked through the hallways and got crooked looks from other cops as I passed. I'd lived in Sacks long enough to have my fair share of enemies. I was led to a tiny office at the end that looked like a coat closet.

A woman? What the fuck? She sat at her desk with her brown hair pulled back into a ponytail. The Sheriff badge shining brightly on her chest. She seemed surprised to see me too. I asked her about Mendoza and she told me he retired. I filled her in on Cole.

Charlotte White
...so this was who I had to work with from now on. Cole had it easy dealing with Mendoza. At least he understood how things worked around here. Not only did I have to deal with a new sheriff, but a chick too.

I stared into her blue eyes and down to her chest. Her white button-up shirt was left open at the top to show off the smallest amount of cleavage. My pants tightened and I licked my lips. I'd never fucked a real cop before. Been close a few times. Didn't even know how close until I met the secretary this morning. But the sheriff would make a good lay.

I imagined her bent over the desk, her ass just begging to be fucked. I pulled down those tight brown pants of hers until I revealed a lace black thong. I tugged on her ponytail hard, unzipping my pants and unleashing my throbbing cock. I spanked Charlotte's soft ass, making her cry out and beg for more.

Sheriff White slammed her fist on the desk, waking me from my lovely dream. “You aren't paying attention.”

She was right about that. White blabbed on and on about the war with the Mexicans and I couldn't care less. Those tits could use a good fucking—my cock resting in her cleavage as I came all over them. I made some fake promise that I'd help her out and she seemed to buy it. Whatever it took to keep the law off our backs.

The sheriff stood up and I couldn't help admiring her figure. Her hips were wide with a perfectly round ass. She dressed conservatively which turned me on even more. She looked like a librarian that would be crazy in bed.

I'd have to devise a way to get her under my sheets.

I left the station and back to my Harley. The skies were clear and it was a perfect day out. But a storm was coming. The sheriff wasn't wrong about a war coming. The Rabid Dogs needed to prep for whatever the Mexicans threw at us.

Another long day on the job was finally over. Things had been pretty quiet around here which was amazing but there was so much paperwork to do. I had no idea the sheriff had to deal with so much bullshit and stress.

It had been a few days since my encounter with Sawyer Taylor and it must've worked because the war with the Mexicans hadn't materialized. I felt pretty proud of myself. The town thought a woman couldn't get things done around here and I'd already prevented a major catastrophe. A image of the mayor awarding me a medal in front of the entire town invaded my mind. “It was no problem at all, Mr. Mayor,” I imagined myself saying.

My old 95' Honda Accord heaved into the parking structure of my apartment complex, sputtering and letting out steam. She wouldn't be able to make it much longer. Luckily a sheriff's salary could afford me a brand new car. What should I get? I always dreamed of getting a convertible but that was when I lived in a beach city. A SUV would be better suited for this landscape. Something that could survive the desert sand.

I locked the car but knew it wasn't needed. Nobody would try to steal this old piece of shit. I entered my empty apartment and cursed to myself. I still needed to buy some furniture but I'd been so busy recently. Sharp meows echoed through the living room and Ariel wrapped around my legs, purring and rubbing against me.

Ariel was a red tabby cat that I rescued from a shelter a few years ago. I needed someone to keep me company—now more than ever since I left my friends and family back in LA. Ariel was very loving as long as I fed her at her normal times. If not, she'd hiss and try to bat me with her claws until she heard her dry food hitting the porcelain bowl.

I stumbled over the cat until I reached the kitchen and set my purse down. I got really lucky with this apartment. It was pretty close to the police station with great square footage. I thought about buying a house since I was finally making good money but decided against it when I realized how much work it would take. Apartments were nice and easy, not a lot of cleaning or maintenance.

I pulled out a bottle of red wine from the fridge that I opened from the night before. I didn't even bother with a glass and just drank straight from the bottle. So classy. A couple of officers invited me out to drinks tonight but I knew it was an empty invitation. They wanted to blow off steam and they couldn't do that in front of a superior.

“Just you and me tonight, Ariel.” She whipped her tail back and forth as I opened up her bag of food and scooped some into her bowl. I took another swig of wine and watched her eat. My stomach rumbled and I forgot that I hadn't eaten anything all day. I opened the fridge back up and it was completely empty save for a carton of milk. What was I thinking when I went to the grocery store? I don't even drink milk.

I grabbed my phone and searched for takeout Chinese. After waiting an hour, there was finally a knock at the door and the food was delivered. The aroma of cheap Asian cuisine filled the apartment. Ariel sat on the counter and watched me unload the little Chinese boxes from the plastic bag. “Don't judge me, cat. I can save the rest for leftovers.”

My phone started to ring “Can't Buy Me Love” by The Beatles. I checked the caller ID and it was my mom. I wasn't sure I wanted to talk with her yet. My parents got divorced the day after I graduated high school, confirming the fact that they only stayed together for me. My dad barely gave me attention anymore after he got remarried.

My mom on the other hand, focused on me like a hawk. At college she called me multiple times a day to talk about all sorts of boring stuff. At first, I loved all the attention but after awhile I couldn't handle the smothering. I hadn't talked to her since I moved here and her voicemails were getting angry. I stared at the ringing phone and pressed the talk button.

“Charlotte where have you been? I've been calling you the past couple days and I was starting to get worried.”

“Sorry Mom, I've been super busy at the station.” That part was true but I still could've called her when I got home.

“Yeah I called the station to see if you were okay and the secretary said you were out on a call. So tell me all about it. How's being sheriff?”

I didn't want my mom to know that this town was a lot like LA. “It's been really great so far. Everyone's been really welcoming and the town is so beautiful. I could see myself staying here for very long time.”

“Oh that's great, honey. You know I'm so proud of you. I've been bragging to all my friends at brunch. My daughter's a big shot sheriff now.”

I imagined my mom at Sunday brunch with all her friends wearing their ridiculous hats. She dragged me to it once and I vowed never to go back. Too much prissy behavior for me. “Mom, it really isn't that big of a deal. It's such a small town.”

“Nonsense, Charlotte. You've done good for yourself. Now all you need is a man to take care of you.” Here we go. The conversation always turned to this eventually. “When I was talking with Janette at brunch, she told me about her son who's a lawyer. I'll send you the picture because he's beyond handsome.”

I tuned out my mom and grunted every once and awhile to let her know I was still on the line. Why was she so obsessed with me dating? The last blind date she set me up with turned out to be unemployed and still living with his parents. It's been years since her divorce and she hadn't been on one date. Why was I such a priority?

“I think I've taken up enough of your time, darling. Please call me tomorrow.”

“Will do, Mom. Goodnight.” I sighed and set down the phone. Ariel yawned and I agreed with her.

I had talked with my mom for so long that the Chinese food had gotten cold. I put some chow mein on a plate along with spicy pork and popped it in the microwave. I crumpled up the coupons that came with the food and threw them across the room. Ariel wiggled her butt and bolted towards the front door, batting the paper ball across the carpet. That cat loved the most basic toys.

The microwave dinged and I sat down on the carpet with my food in the middle of the living room. I had no couch, coffee table, or chairs yet. But I had a TV. An old Sony box that didn't work with the remote anymore so you had to get up any time you wanted to change the channel or the volume.

I flicked on the tube and scanned the limited amount of channels I got. My favorite show was on—Friends. I'd seen this episode a hundred times and it never failed to make me laugh. Joey was auditioning for a game show host and Ross and Chandler were playing the fake contestants. The game had the most ridiculous rules but by the end of the episode, they were addicted. Chandler screamed out, “This is the best game...ever!”

Ariel lay next to my legs, purring and rubbing her face against my knee. I ate my spicy pork in my empty apartment, giggling at the TV. My mom was wrong, I didn't need a man to enjoy life. I had my dream job and everyone be damned for thinking a woman can't do it.