Page 4 of Diamond

“Hey, Sheriff, I’m Sapphire.” She shoves her hand through the bars, and I look down at it.

Because I’m not a rude son of a bitch, I shake it. “You’re club security, I take it?” All MC prez’s have them.

“Good news travels fast.” She winks.

I blink.

“Listen, we’ve gotten off on the wrong foot,” she drawls, her hand still in mine. “We’re not here to cause any trouble. And we promise to be on the right side of the law from now on. Don’t we, girls?”

I flick my eyes to Diamond, who looks at her incredulously.

“That’s right,” Ruby pipes up brightly. “I mean, are you really gonna keep us locked up in here for doin’ a little snoopin’? Seems a little harsh. We didn’t mean anything by it.” She elbows Diamond in the ribs for the second time. “Did we?”

As if the words tumbling out of her mouth could kill her, Diamond meets my gaze again and says in a high-pitched fake voice, “I’m so terribly sorry for all the trouble, Sheriff Calloway. We promise we won’t let it happen again. We’ll be good little girls from now on.”

If she were mine? I’d have her bent over my knees while I spank her ass.

I should make her sweat it out.

I should write up the paperwork.

But I don’t.

“You forgot to say please.”

She grinds her teeth for a moment, then a menacing look appears on her face as she leans closer to me. “The last time I heard that word was when I had a man shackled to my bed.”

My eyes widen, and all bets just blew out the fucking window.

CHAPTER 3

DIAMOND

I pad barefoot around my porch, looking toward the sunset. It’s magical out here on my ranch, aptly named Rustic Grove.

This place once belonged to my grandparents. I moved back here when… when shit got rough.

I turned the main house into the clubhouse, and the outbuildings into accommodation for whoever needs it. My wing has two floors, and I keep my residence separate from the clubhouse. There are several bedrooms in the south and west wings downstairs because the dwelling is huge.

Sapphire and Ruby have separate cabins at the far side of Rustic Grove and I hope to add more.

I glance over toward the stables. I rode earlier, after we got out of jail, to help clear my mind. I don’t like the idea of wasting an entire morning, but at least I got to meet Nash Calloway, and now I know what to expect.

Clearly, he isn’t going to give us any leeway, but that’s never bothered me in the past. Maybe he’ll surprise us all and do some good in this town. I loved Benson, but he really didn’t have the balls for it anymore. We did all the work for him.

Timothy Lanzetti has been buying up land around here for the past year, which makes me suspicious. If they think they’re going to build an airport or some damn theme park, they’ve got another thing coming.

At the last town meeting, Lanzetti claimed he was using it for a new regenerative wind farm, not something I’m super impressed with, but in his Armani suit and fifty-thousand-dollar Rolex watch, I can’t see him out in the fields getting his hands dirty. I don’t buy it.

Nash, on the other hand?

I close my eyes for a second and try to get the vision of his pretty blue eyes out of my head. It’s wrong, really, for a man who is so clearly alpha to have such a handsome face. I can’t help but linger on thoughts of what he has under that damn uniform, too. I love a solidly built man, I’m not gonna deny it. If Nash wasn’t the sheriff, he’d be right up my alley in every single way.

I’m not the only one with a rap sheet. Okay, his are all fucking accolades: exemplary law enforcement awards and hero of the year type of shit. But the question begs: Why did he move to this tiny town? We don’t have a huge population or giant shopping malls, and most of us like it that way. We make a good living without conglomerates and fancy hotels. It’s a real small town where people look you in the eye, and everyone knows everyone. But Nash Calloway? He’s under my skin, and I plan on finding out exactly what he’s doing here and why.

I don’t usually take my truck out unless I’m hauling feed for the animals. I love riding my motorcycle. It’s a beautiful vintage Harley Davidson Softail Deluxe. Black, silver, and aqua with horses running toward the club logo down the side. It’s my baby. But today I’m running errands, and that may or may not have included a patrol of my own. Fine. I stalked Nash Calloway’s place of residence.

It wasn’t hard to find out where he lives, and sue me, I’m intrigued to know whether there’s a Mrs. Calloway. According to Sapphire, who heard it from Daphne Lovett, owner of the local grocery store, he’s single. Rumors are just that until proven otherwise. It’s not like Daphne to get these things wrong, but still. Let’s not jump to conclusions.