Diamond and the Rival Sheriff

1. Diamond

DIAMOND

“Is that all you got?” I holler at the deputy sheriff. “After all, Duncan, I’ve known you since you were in diapers!”

“You’re just digging yourself a deeper hole, D!” he yells back, a chuckle in his tone.

I bang on the bars. “I mean it! When your mother hears about this—”

“Save it.” Ruby, my VP, sighs. “You know he’s always been a momma’s boy through and through. That dog won’t hunt, and you know it. New sheriff, new rules.”

I glance at Ruby, her southern twang in full flight, and give her a wistful look.

“They can’t arrest us. We own this fucking town.

I’ll remind good ol’ Duncan that he’ll have to find a new watering hole because the Rusty Spur is no longer accepting cocky little shitheads!

” I raise my voice so Duncan can hear me. Asswipe.

It helps when you co-own the one and only bar in town. I’m not afraid to use it as leverage.

Ah, yes, the new sheriff in town.

Nash Calloway.

I’ve yet to lay eyes on the man, but his reputation precedes him. Depending on who you talk to, the results are mixed.

Polite, but no nonsense. A little arrogant according to some. He probably has a big ego. Heck, he’s a dreamer, too, if he thinks he’s going to make changes in this small town. I wasn’t kidding when I said the Stilettos run this town, and I don’t throw down lightly.

The townsfolk respect us. After all, the club is known for helping the community in more ways than one.

We singlehandedly did the cops’ job for them when traffickers were lurking around the border, close to town.

Maybe that’s why they’re pissed because several officers in nearby Blackstone lost their jobs due to incompetence.

Lucky for us, we’re friends with the Blackstone Backroad Bandits, an MC who assisted in one of the takedowns.

Sapphire’s brother, Reaper, is a member.

And then you have the bribes, looking the other way, and “missing files.” In Saddle, dirty cops are no exception.

I’m known for taking in every waif and stray at my ranch until we can reunite them with their families, if they have any. Some of the girls we save stay in town, and we help them find work.

You could call it my passion project, for personal reasons, but we have a good thing going. I’ll admit, over recent months, things have been quiet, and I take pride in that. It means our involvement in taking down traffickers around these parts worked. I regret nothing.

I turn, leaning my back against the bars.

Duncan arrested us for violating a restraining order. One that should never have been granted because the idea that I would stalk anyone is ridiculous.

What I would do is trespass onto land that isn’t mine to get a better look at what the sneaky developers right next to my ranch are up to. Nobody gets to know shit in this town without a little digging, after all.

“I’m just bummed the new hot sheriff didn’t arrest us,” Sapphire, the club’s Enforcer, whines, picking at her nails. “I wouldn’t mind him handcuffing me to his bedpost.”

I roll my eyes. “Right, if you like older guys.”

Sapphire is only thirty-two—ten years younger than me—and admittedly, she does have an eye for silver foxes, but Calloway? Over my dead body. I’ve not had the pleasure of meeting him yet, but since we’re in jail, I guess that could be closer than we realize.

The man strolled into Saddle a week ago and now thinks he’s the one in charge. I’ve got news for him. We run it.

We’re all a little badass; it comes with the territory, but Sapphire, on the other hand, is a different breed of tough. That’s exactly what we need for the club. It sets a good example. Strong women. Independent. Willing to go the extra mile to keep order. And we do.

The MC may look completely innocent from the outside—a charity for want of a better word—which isn’t uncommon for most female MC clubs, but looks can be deceiving.

Don’t get me wrong, we’re not a 1% club.

We’re legit, with regular jobs and businesses, but we take the law into our own hands when we need to.

I like to think we’re somewhere in the middle of a gray area.

I walk the walk and talk the talk, but my mission when I started this MC was to help women in trouble.

That’s what this club stands for, and I’ll die on this hill before anyone is trafficked through my town or abused in any way.

“We both know older guys do it better,” she goes on. “I don’t know, D. There’s something about an older dude that just gets my blood pumping. Speaking of which, how long has it been since you got laid?” Sapphire is also direct.

“Too long,” I mutter. I turn to face her, leveling her with a look, then point my finger at her. “Don’t even think about it. We don’t need law enforcement on our heels—”

“Why is that, exactly?” a deep, husky voice—like perfectly aged whiskey—drawls, making me jump.

I spin around, my eyes meeting a muscular chest through the bars. I dart my gaze up and immediately step back.

Electric-blue eyes with a dangerous glare, framed by a furrowed brow, meet mine, and my mouth opens and closes. They’re sharp enough to cut, hot enough to burn. Not just pretty, but lethal, and for a second, I lose all coherent thought.

I glance quickly at his badge: Sheriff Calloway.

I ignore the fact it’s likely he just heard everything we said, but the main question running through my brain is how he snuck up on us so fucking quietly.

Calloway must be standing at six-four at least. I’m tall, but he towers over me.

The girls weren’t kidding, he is handsome. A strong jaw, three-day stubble—graying slightly—which matches his short salt-and-pepper hair. He has a solid build, indicating he must work out a lot, and, fuck me, if he doesn’t have tattoos skating all the way up his arms.

So Mr. Do-Gooder is a rebel? I almost snort at the idea.

In doing so, I inhale his strong, woodsy, masculine scent.

I’m not one to be a total fucking pushover when it comes to men, but even I have to admit his scent is intoxicating, sexy, and dangerous all rolled into one.

If he wasn’t the new sheriff in town—and a man I already despise—maybe we could’ve shared something.

Sapphire didn’t just get it right; she hit a fucking home run.

“Because we’re being held here against our will,” I reply to his question.

“You must be…” He glances at his clipboard—a fucking clipboard—then looks back at me. “Diamond Elizabeth Velente. Excuse my ignorance, you have a list here as long as my—”

“Sweet baby Jesus,” Sapphire mutters.

“Paperwork,” he concludes.

I try not to gape at him. The son of a bitch.

I note the twitch of his lips. Great, so even his mouth is perfect, too. He has that strong-set jaw that cycles between being amused and deadly serious, as if he can’t work out which to be.

Are we a joke to him?

It annoys me because A: I’m a hothead, and B: I don’t like people treating this club like a joke. He’s new around here. I’d cut him some slack if not for Duncan’s wild antics this afternoon, and the fact Sheriff Calloway won’t be letting us go anytime soon.

Just because he’s technically Saddle’s law enforcement doesn’t mean he holds all the cards here. He’ll realize that sooner or later, when he’s been here long enough to wipe his ass.

I purposely peek at his crotch, then flick my eyes back to his. “You’re reaching, Sheriff. It’s a pity, but since you’re new around here, I’ll let you in on a little secret: you’re messing with the wrong bitches if you think we’re gonna take this shit.”

He takes a few agonizing seconds to respond. I’m guessing a tactic of his to try to intimidate me. Not gonna happen in this lifetime. I was raised by a strong single dad who taught me how to stand up for myself.

“The hot-headed Stiletto Riders President.” His eyes flick to my feet. In true Stiletto style, I am wearing motherfucking heels, even though my damn feet are killing me. “Do those things hurt after a while?”

“You know what I can guarantee does hurt?” I toss back. “My fucking heel wedged in your skull if you keep us in here any longer. We have rights.”

He smirks, which only fuels my anger.

I bend down to slide my black stiletto off, but I feel a hand on my shoulder.

“What she means to say is she’s very pleased to finally meet you,” Ruby interjects, a wide smile on her face as she nudges me with her elbow. “Right, Diamond?”

But Calloway isn’t listening, nor is he looking in her direction. His eyes haven’t moved from my face. Instinctively, I ignore the heat between my legs as well as the rising of my pulse, throbbing in my veins. This man isn’t affecting me, he’s just… intense.

We stare at each other. If Sheriff Calloway thinks he’s gonna win this face-off, he has another thing coming.

This is my town, and he’s about to find out why.