NO SAFE ROAD

The Sheriff

Chapter Nine

The call came in before Mara had fully decided whether she wanted to go back downstairs.

Tessa was already halfway out the door when her phone buzzed again, and the look that passed over her face made Mara’s stomach tighten.

“Yep,” Tessa said, not bothering to hide her irritation. “That’s what I thought.”

Mara stared. “What is it?”

Tessa looked at her over one shoulder. “Your ex is making a scene.”

That was not encouraging.

Mara took a step toward the hall. “What kind of scene?”

“The kind with too many vehicles, too many mouths, and one sheriff who thinks this is now his problem.”

Her pulse stuttered. “Sheriff?”

Tessa’s mouth flattened. “Welcome to Texas.”

Mara didn’t move at first.

The clubhouse around them had shifted again while she’d been upstairs. The sounds from below were quieter now, but not calm. Men were talking in lower, harder tones. Doors opening and closing. The occasional scrape of a chair. The whole place felt like it was bracing.

Tessa noticed her hesitation and sighed. “You can come down or you can stand here spiraling. Your call.”

Mara hated how close she was to choosing the second option.

Instead, she followed Tessa down the stairs and back into the main room.

The atmosphere had changed completely.

The front windows were covered now, the lights dimmed some, and the men in the room were no longer pretending this was just a normal day. Cole stood near the bar with two of his brothers. One of them had a laptop open. Another had a phone pressed to his ear. The room looked like it had become a command post in the space between one breath and the next.

Cole looked up when she entered.

His gaze paused on her for a beat, then shifted to Tessa.

“Sheriff’s on his way,” Tessa said.

Cole’s jaw tightened. “I know.”

Mara stopped near the bottom of the stairs. “Why is the sheriff coming here?”

Cole looked at her. “Because your ex called him.”

Mara blinked. “On what grounds?”

Cole gave her a flat look. “Apparently, you stole property, ran from a lawful agreement, and are currently being unlawfully detained by an outlaw motorcycle club.”

That last part landed with enough sarcasm to make one of the brothers snort.

Mara stared at him. “He said what?”

“He’s very committed to his own version of reality,” Tessa said dryly.

Mara’s pulse pounded. “And the sheriff believes him?”

Cole didn’t answer immediately, which was answer enough.

Mara’s face went cold. “You’re serious.”

“Maybe,” Cole said. “Depends how much your ex has on him.”

The room went quieter at that.

Mara looked from face to face and realized this was no longer a simple question of one man being dangerous. If the sheriff was involved, then Derek was pulling on a thread that could reach into the town’s power structure.

Her stomach turned over.

“I told you,” she said, too quietly. “It’s bigger than me.”

Cole’s gaze remained on her. “Yes.”

That one word should have felt like agreement.

Instead it felt like a door swinging open.

He motioned toward the bar. “Sit.”

Mara started to object out of habit, then stopped when she realized nobody was in the mood for that game.

She sat.

Cole handed the laptop to one of the men and came around the bar to stand in front of her. Not too close. Close enough to make his focus obvious.

“You’ve got one job right now,” he said.

Mara looked up at him. “I’m not taking orders from you like I’m one of your prospects.”

His expression stayed level. “Good. You’re not.”

That surprised her enough to quiet her.

Cole continued, “You are, however, the reason the sheriff is headed here, which means you need to tell me everything you know about what Derek was hiding.”

Mara let out a breath. “You already asked me that.”

“And now I’m asking again in case you were still trying to protect him.”

That hit.

Mara’s face hardened. “I’m not protecting him.”

“Then talk.”

A few of the brothers had gone quiet enough to listen openly now, which made her jaw tighten. She hated performing her trauma for a room full of armed men, even if they were technically on her side.

Tessa caught the look on her face and, for once, her voice softened a little.

“You can tell us the pieces,” she said. “You don’t have to tell it pretty.”

Mara looked at her, then at Cole. He said nothing, only waited, as if he was genuinely willing to let her choose the shape of the truth.

That was somehow harder than being pushed.

She folded her hands together on the bar to stop them from trembling.

“The files were mostly invoices and transfer sheets,” she said. “But there were also route logs. Lot numbers. Names of storage sites. A few payment records that didn’t match the addresses they were supposed to go to.”

Cole’s expression sharpened.

Mara kept going. “And a list of names.”

“What names?” one of the brothers asked.

Cole cut him a glance, and the man shut up immediately.

Mara swallowed. “People around town. Contractors. A deputy’s last name. One county office. One logistics company that moved freight up and down the highway.”

Cole’s jaw flexed.

Mara could feel the room leaning in on the edges of the conversation now.

She looked at him. “I didn’t know what all of it meant. I only knew it wasn’t legal.”

“Good instinct,” Tessa murmured.

Mara gave a humorless smile. “Doesn’t feel very useful now.”

“No?” Tessa said. “Sounds like it’s keeping us from being surprised.”

Cole’s gaze stayed on Mara. “Did he know you’d seen all of it?”

“Yes.”

“How?”

“He left the folder open. He wasn’t expecting me to walk into his office.” Mara hesitated, then forced the next part out. “He was on the phone with someone when I saw it.”

Cole’s eyes narrowed. “Did you hear anything?”

Mara shook her head once. “Only his tone.”

“What tone?”

The memory made her stomach knot. “Angry. Careful. Like he was trying not to say too much.”

Cole looked away for a fraction of a second, and Mara could almost see the pieces clicking together behind his eyes.

Tessa folded her arms. “That sounds a lot like somebody who knows he’s being watched.”

Mara looked at her. “By who?”

Tessa didn’t answer.

Cole did.

“People with leverage,” he said.

The words sat heavy in the room.

Mara stared at him, then slowly realized what he meant. Not just a crooked sheriff, not just a controlling ex. Someone higher up. Someone used to clean-looking corruption. Someone who could make a warrant appear, move men around, and still look respectable doing it.

A sound came from the front door.

Not a knock.

A hand on the wood.

Every man in the room moved at once.

Cole’s head lifted.

The door opened before anyone could decide to speak.

A man in a sheriff’s uniform stepped inside, hat in hand, face flat with official concern and a little too much confidence.

Sheriff Grady Mott.

Mara knew the name. Everyone in Red Mesa knew the name.

He glanced around the room once, then landed on her.

“Ms. Vale,” he said. “We need to talk.”

Cole’s voice came out from behind her, calm as a knife. “You can talk where you’re standing.”

The sheriff’s mouth tightened.

Then, just enough for Mara to catch it, his eyes flicked to Cole and hardened.

“President Mercer,” he said. “You and I both know why I’m here.”

Cole didn’t move. “Then say it.”

The sheriff’s gaze stayed on Mara. “Your ex filed a complaint.”

Mara’s pulse kicked hard.

The sheriff continued, “He says you stole documents, ran from your residence, and are currently refusing to cooperate with a lawful inquiry.”

The room went very still.

Mara stared at him. “That’s not what happened.”

“I’m sure you believe that,” the sheriff said.

Cole’s voice remained cool. “You came all the way out here to repeat his fantasy?”

Sheriff Mott’s jaw ticked. “I came here to get her statement.”

“Then do that somewhere else.”

Mott looked back at Cole, and now the concern was gone. What was left was more dangerous because it was familiar.

“Not if she’s under your protection,” the sheriff said.

The room shifted.

Mara felt it.

Cole did too.

Tessa’s expression turned flat as stone.

Mott looked at Mara again. “You don’t have to do this here.”

Mara let out a breath. “Do what?”

His face remained politely blank. “Make a scene.”

Cole’s gaze sharpened. “There’s only one scene in this room, and you’re standing in it.”

The sheriff’s eyes narrowed. “You want to keep talking like that, Mercer?”

Cole leaned one shoulder slightly toward the bar, calm and dangerous in a way that made Mara’s skin prickle. “You want to keep pretending this is normal?”

Mott looked at him for a long second.

Then he turned back to Mara.

“Ms. Vale,” he said again, softer this time, “if you come with me, we can sort this out without making it worse.”

Mara stared at him.

Something in his tone was wrong. Not overtly. Not enough for anyone else to call it out. But she felt it—the neatness of it, the rehearsed patience, the pressure inside the politeness.

Like Derek had called ahead.

Like they already knew what response they wanted from her.

Cole must have seen something on her face because his voice changed.

“Mara,” he said. One word. Quiet. Warning.

The sheriff glanced at him. “You should let her answer for herself.”

Cole’s smile was cold enough to crack glass.

“She already has,” he said.

Then, from outside, a hard engine roared to life in the lot.

Mara turned toward the sound on instinct.

Another motorcycle.

Then another.

The sheriff’s expression changed for the first time.

Cole noticed.

So did everyone else.

Outside, voices rose. Tires crunched on gravel. A new shape moved past the front window.

Tessa muttered, “Oh, this is getting ugly.”

The sheriff took a slow breath and fixed his hat in his hand.

Then he looked at Mara, and whatever careful mask he’d been wearing thinned enough for her to see the real thing underneath.

Pressure.

Not concern.

Pressure.

“I’m going to ask you one more time,” he said. “Are you coming with me?”

Cole stepped forward.

The room went knife-quiet.

And Mara realized, with a cold rush of certainty, that the next answer she gave would change everything.