NO SAFE ROAD

The Badge

Chapter Ten

Mara did not move.

The sheriff stood in the middle of Blackwater’s clubhouse like he had every right to be there, and somehow that made the air feel even thinner. His gaze stayed on her, patient in the way of a man who expected pressure to work eventually.

Cole stood just behind and to her left. Close enough that she could feel the heat of him without touching him. Close enough to remind her that the room had changed shape around him the second he stepped forward.

Mara’s pulse was loud in her ears.

“If I go with you,” she said carefully, “what happens?”

Sheriff Mott’s expression didn’t shift. “We talk. You answer a few questions. If everything checks out, you’re free to go.”

Cole gave a short, humorless laugh. “That’s not how this works.”

The sheriff’s eyes moved to him. “That’s exactly how this works.”

“No,” Cole said. “That’s how you’d like it to work.”

The room around them had gone dead quiet.

Mara could feel every set of eyes in the clubhouse on her now. She hated it. Hated that her choice had become public property. Hated that the sheriff looked calm enough to make her feel like the irrational one, and hated even more that Cole looked like a man who already knew the outcome of a fight he was willing to start anyway.

The sheriff turned his attention back to her.

“You’ve got nothing to fear if you haven’t done anything wrong,” he said.

That line hit like a bad memory dressed up as common sense.

Mara stared at him. “You expect me to believe that?”

Mott’s jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. “I expect you to cooperate.”

“Why now?”

His brows lifted a fraction. “Because your ex filed the complaint.”

“Yesterday?” Tessa cut in, voice sharp.

The sheriff glanced at her, then back at Mara. “Whenever he filed it is irrelevant.”

Cole’s voice came low and flat. “It’s relevant if you’re doing his bidding.”

Mott finally looked annoyed. “You want to keep accusing me in front of my own badge, Mercer?”

Cole didn’t blink. “You want to keep pretending that badge means something in this room?”

The sheriff’s hand flexed once around his hat.

Mara felt the tension in the room tighten until it felt like it might snap.

She looked from one man to the other, then realized the worst part: this wasn’t just about her anymore. If the sheriff pushed, Blackwater would push back. And if Blackwater pushed back, Red Mesa would feel it. That meant more eyes, more rumors, more pressure, more danger.

Mara looked back at Sheriff Mott. “What exactly does Derek say I stole?”

The sheriff’s gaze returned to her, and for the first time she saw the slightest crack in the polished concern.

“Documents,” he said. “Business records. Property that belongs to your husband.”

Mara’s stomach twisted.

He was calling him her husband now.

Cole’s expression darkened so fast it felt like the room temperature dropped.

Tessa made a disgusted sound. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

Mara shook her head once, more to herself than to anyone else. “He is not my husband.”

The sheriff spread one hand slightly. “Then that’s something you can explain at the station.”

Cole moved before Mara could answer.

It wasn’t fast, not exactly. It was certain. One moment he was beside her, the next he’d stepped directly into the sheriff’s line like the room had always intended him to be there.

“You’re not taking her anywhere,” Cole said.

Sheriff Mott looked up at him. “She’s a civilian witness in an active complaint.”

“She’s under my protection.”

The sheriff’s mouth flattened. “That doesn’t make you the law.”

Cole’s eyes went cold. “No. It just makes me the thing standing between you and a very bad decision.”

For a single, dangerous beat, no one moved.

Mara saw it then—the old Texas standoff energy, the kind that lived in places like this and turned quiet men into threats. The sheriff was not backing down. Cole was not giving ground. And she was standing in the middle, feeling like the match everyone had forgotten to light.

Her heart thudded hard once.

Then she said, “I’ll answer questions.”

Cole turned his head slightly, looking at her like he couldn’t believe she’d chosen that sentence.

Mara held his gaze. “But not alone.”

The sheriff’s brows rose. “Ms. Vale—”

“No,” Mara said, firmer now. “If I talk, I talk here. With Cole. With Tessa. I’m not going anywhere with you.”

Sheriff Mott stared at her.

Cole did not look surprised. Which somehow annoyed her.

The sheriff took a slow breath through his nose, the kind of breath a man takes when he’s deciding how much force will still look polite. “You realize this is going to make things harder.”

Mara let out a dry laugh. “Harder than what?”

The sheriff didn’t answer that.

Of course he didn’t.

Cole’s voice cut in. “You heard her.”

The sheriff looked at him, then at the room full of men watching every twitch of this exchange. He understood the optics. Mara could see that. He was calculating just how much trouble he’d cause if he pushed the issue now.

At last, he gave a small, controlled nod. “Fine.”

The relief Mara felt was instant and unwanted.

But the sheriff wasn’t done.

He looked at her more carefully. “There’s something you should know, Ms. Vale. Your ex isn’t the only one concerned about what you took.”

Mara went cold.

Cole’s attention sharpened. “Say that again.”

Sheriff Mott ignored him and kept his eyes on Mara. “People are asking questions.”

“What people?” Mara asked.

The sheriff’s expression stayed smooth, but his tone changed. “The kind you’d be wiser not to name out loud.”

Tessa stepped forward half a pace. “That is not reassuring.”

“No,” the sheriff said, and there it was again—that thin edge beneath the official calm. “It isn’t.”

Mara felt Cole move beside her, the subtle shift of a man whose patience had just narrowed down to a blade.

The sheriff glanced past her toward the front windows, where the sound of engines had multiplied outside.

Then he said, quietly now, “You may not understand how big this got.”

Mara stared at him. “What does that mean?”

“It means,” Cole said before the sheriff could answer, “he’s warning you.”

Sheriff Mott’s gaze slid to Cole. “I’m informing her.”

Cole gave a cold smile. “You’re performing.”

The sheriff’s jaw ticked.

Outside, another engine roared, and this one didn’t sound like a local bike idling for attention. It sounded like a coordinated arrival.

Mara looked toward the windows, then back to the sheriff. “Who’s out there?”

Mott did not answer immediately.

That was answer enough.

Cole’s voice dropped lower. “You brought company.”

The sheriff’s face went unreadable. “I brought backup.”

Tessa snorted. “Of course you did.”

Mara’s stomach tightened with a new kind of dread. Backup meant more men, more pressure, more eyes on the clubhouse—and if Derek had somehow called in the sheriff, then the entire thing was even uglier than she’d feared.

The sheriff shifted his weight once, then said to Mara, “You can still make this easy.”

Mara laughed once, but it came out brittle. “You are incredibly committed to the wrong ending.”

Cole looked at her then, and for the first time that night, she saw something in his expression that felt almost like pride.

Not because she was being difficult.

Because she was refusing.

The sheriff noticed it too. His eyes sharpened.

“You don’t want to do this the hard way,” he said.

Cole’s voice was colder than the room. “You’re already here.”

The line landed hard.

The sheriff stood there for one beat too long.

Then, very slowly, he tipped his hat toward Mara. “Think carefully.”

She didn’t answer.

He turned and headed for the door.

The room stayed frozen until he reached the threshold. When it opened, the noise from outside rushed in—engines, voices, gravel under boots—and for a second Mara caught sight of several more vehicles packed into the lot beyond the front windows.

Too many.

Cole’s brothers had already started moving again. Quiet, efficient, dangerous.

The sheriff stepped into the lot, and the door shut behind him.

Only then did Mara realize she was shaking.

Cole turned to face her.

She looked up at him, suddenly hyperaware of how close he was, how the room had changed around the two of them without asking permission.

“You should’ve gone with him,” he said.

Mara’s face flushed hot. “Excuse me?”

His gaze was steady. “You made a choice that keeps you in the middle of this.”

“I made a choice that keeps me alive.”

Cole’s eyes held hers for a long second.

Then, quieter, he said, “Maybe.”

Mara’s breath caught.

Because there it was. The thing she’d been trying not to notice since the first time he looked at her like she was a problem he intended to solve. Not just control. Not just protect. Believe. He believed her enough to be dangerous about it.

Outside, an engine revved hard enough to rattle the windows.

Cole looked toward the front of the clubhouse, then back at Mara.

“Come on,” he said.

“Where?”

He didn’t answer right away. Just held her gaze and then said, with the calm of a man who had already decided the next move, “Somewhere we can talk without an audience.”

Mara swallowed.

The way he said talk made her think of all the things neither of them had said yet.

And that, somehow, was more dangerous than the men outside.