Drew

The scene at the mayor's house wasn't chaos, but it was pretty damn close. The local librarian, Maisy Aucoin, was in the middle of Beauford Lynch's front yard armed with a cast iron frying pan and a cat that looked like it had gone through at least eight of its nine lives in the past hour. The distinct stench of burnt fur carried on the early evening air. Beauford and his wife, Betty Sue, stood on their wraparound porch each armed with matching shotguns with Mr. Right and Mrs. Always Right etched onto the barrels in decorative script.

It was almost eight o'clock before Drew and two deputies got everyone back on their own property and unarmed. Another half hour and he had Maisy Aucoin's statement and was sitting in the most uncomfortable chair ever in the Lynch's front room trying not to lose his temper at the mayor, who was one windstorm away from having his brain's screen door knocked loose.

Drew pinched the bridge of his nose, let out a slow breath, and tried again. "Beauford, you lobbed a firecracker at Miss Maisy's cat—and it was a cherry bomb. Beyond being illegal, it was very dangerous." Not to mention idiotic, but mentioning that part wasn't going to make anyone's life any better.

Beauford's fingers played a nervous drum solo on the arm of the couch he was sitting on. "It just slipped out of my hand."

Of all the bullshit answers, that one was as lame as it was a bald-face lie. A lit illegal firework just happened to slip out of the old man's hand and fly thirty feet across his backyard in the general direction of the fleeing tabby cat. The only thing that had saved the fur ball was the fact that at seventy-six, Beauford's aim sucked and he'd missed his mortal enemy by at least three feet.

"This is Texas," the mayor blustered. "A man's allowed to protect himself and his property."

From a ten pound cat?

Shaking his head, Drew took out the citation booklet he'd grabbed from his truck's glove box and flipped it open. "Cherry bombs are illegal under federal law."

"Well, whoop-de-friggin-do," the mayor said, his tone more than a might snarly.

Drew glanced up. The stubborn old goat was sitting with his chin cocked and his arms crossed with the certainty of privilege wrapped around him like a blanket. Any other day and Drew would have just written the ticket, done his duty, and made sure everything looked good just like he'd been taught all his life. However, tonight, he found that he didn't give a shit about how things looked. Let the town of Catfish Creek chatter, he was done taking shit from this man.

"Sir." Drew stood, closing his citation booklet. "I'm gonna have to take you in."

"On what charges?" Betty Sue asked, already reaching for her phone—no doubt to call their attorney.

"Possession of illegal fireworks and cruelty to animals for a start." Too bad general dumbassery and being a pain in the ass were constitutionally protected.

Beauford shot off the couch, faster than his arthritic knees probably appreciated. "You can't do that, I'm the mayor!"

There it was, the same veiled threat he'd heard a million times since he'd become sheriff. Friday couldn't come soon enough. He was sick and tired of the Groundhog Day his life had become.

He shrugged and grabbed the handcuffs hooked to his belt, not that he would use them on an old man but he couldn't wait to see Beauford's reaction. "What are you gonna do, have my job?"

"I know about Fort Worth, boy. Put those things on me and you can kiss that job goodbye right now."

Okay, now he was gonna put the bracelets on a seventy-six-year-old man. It might not be his proudest moment, but was going to be one he'd remember fondly for the rest of his life.

He let the joy of that fill his face. "Guess that means I'll just have to shake things up a bit then."

Maybe he'd even look into getting a winter coat and a pair of snow boots.

* * *

Leah

Leah had just settled in on the couch to binge watch some trashy reality TV when someone knocked on the door. That was Catfish Creek, mid-sized city with a small town feel. It was probably a recently divorced neighbor with a casserole for the single sheriff or a group from a local church here to save his soul—either way, they were bound to be disappointed when he failed to answer.

Remembering the promise she made to Drew, she tiptoed up to the door and peered through the peephole. Curtis stood on the front porch in his now slightly wrinkled suit. His sunglasses were cockeyed and, judging by the tension in his jaw, he wasn't too happy about it.

"You know when you do that, the peephole goes dark," Curtis said. "Let me in."

Busted.

She cracked open the door, keeping one foot planted behind it. "What's up?"

"Nothing, just need to do a house check." He took a step forward, jerking to an awkward stop and narrowing his eyes at her when she didn't open the door wider to let him in.

"Drew already did that."

Curtis shrugged and put his hand on the door, not pushing against it but letting his intentions be known. "It's standard procedure."

The little hairs on the back of her neck tingled. Something was off. "I'm gonna call Drew."

She reached for the phone in the back pocket of her jeans at the same time as she started to shut the door. Curtis jabbed one of his scuffed-up size-twelve dress shoes into the opening.

"That's not how this is going to work." The door came flying open, sending Leah stumbling back. "Mr. Law wants his diamond."

Oh fuck.

Adrenaline shot through her veins making her twice as fast as she sprinted toward the bedroom and the locked door that could give her the extra five seconds she needed to call 911. Curtis roared his displeasure and thundered after her. She made it as far as the hall closet when Curtis fisted her ponytail and she went flying backward.

"You're not going anywhere but with me, bitch."

She landed with a hard thunk against the floor. The phone bobbled in her grip as she fought to hold on to it before it went flying. Blood pounding in her ears, her fight response took over. Curtis had a hundred pounds and actual training going for him but she was out of fucks to give. She knew going with him meant only bad things. She came up screaming, putting everything into her punch. Her knuckles crashed into Curtis's nose. The bone cracked and blood streamed down over his lips that were curled into a grimace.

"Fucking bitch," he yelled and backhanded her hard.

Pain exploded in her cheekbone, rocking her back on her heels. She gripped her phone, her fingers connecting with her contacts list. Curtis’s follow up punch landed just under her chin. The world was going dark before her head bounced against the floor. The last thing she heard before everything went dark was Tamara's voice, but it sounded a million miles away.

"B-Squad Investigations and Security, how can I help you?"

* * *

Drew

Drew couldn't stop smiling, not even when he was filling out arrest paperwork in the sheriff's office long after Beauford had posted bond, thanks to an expedited hearing courtesy of the mayor's poker buddy, Judge Harper. It would be decades before he ever forgot the look on the old man's face when he clicked the handcuffs around his wrists—if even then. Today was definitely a win.

"Sheriff, your cell keeps ringing," Deputy Lance Pepper called out.

Glancing out his office door, he saw the lanky new recruit walking toward him holding up Drew's cell. Damn. He'd forgotten it on the intake desk when he'd brought in Beauford. If it was one of the FBI agents calling to let him know Leah had slipped the nest, he was going to have to knock heads.

He took the cell from Pepper and swiped accept call. "Jackson here."

"Tell me she's with you," a woman said.

It took half a second to place the voice. It was Leah's B-Squad friend, Lexie. His gut clenched. "What's wrong?"

"Just answer the question dammit."

He grabbed his keys and headed for the door, leaving the half-finished paperwork laying on his desk. "She's at my house. The place is secured and there's an FBI agent parked out front."

"Tell me it's not Curtis."

Icy dread made him quicken his step. "What in the fuck is going on?"

"God, how to put this in laymen's terms," she said with a groan. "Okay, I used my skills to put a kind of secret Google alert on the systems I accessed so they'd alert when anyone connected with the diamond was mentioned. It went off right before we got the call from Leah's cell. Curtis is dirty. He's under investigation and he's gone dark."

He was out of the sheriff's office and halfway to his truck before she'd gotten to the last word. "What do you mean got the call? What did she say?"

"Nothing."

He yanked his truck door open and vaulted inside. "What do you mean nothing?"

"No one was there. Everyone but Isaac and Tamara blew it off as a butt dial even though she didn't answer when Isaac called back. I just figured you two were getting it on like crazy sex monkeys."

He sped out of the lot, tires squealing. "When did this happen?"

"An hour ago," Lexie said in that calm voice only used by people who were scared shitless and refusing to acknowledge it. "Isaac and Tamara are in the chopper now. They'll be there in thirty minutes."

Half an hour wasn't a lot of time in the big picture but it sure as fuck sounded like forever as he blew threw a red light and slammed the gas pedal to the floor. Every cop knew that each minute counted in a situation like this. Still, he couldn't give in to the fear shoving his balls into his throat. He had to let his training take over, mentally distance himself. If he couldn't, things could go very wrong, very fast. He eased his foot off the gas and took the corner onto his street on all four wheels instead of two.

Forcing himself to release the breath he'd been holding, if not the fear gripping his gut, he slid into cop mode. "I'll call with an update as soon as I evaluate the scene at the house."

"Gotcha," Lexie paused, "and Drew?"

"Yeah?"

"It's gonna be alright. Leah's a fighter."

He was counting on it.

Confirmation of just how much of a fighter she was came ten minutes later when he walked through the banged up front door to his house. His living room looked like the saloon in an old Western after a bar fight. Furniture was turned over. Pictures that had been on the shelves were on the floor in pieces. Shit was tossed everywhere. Worst of all, Leah's Doc Marten boots were abandoned in the middle of the mess. The woman herself was nowhere to be found. What was in his house was a bright yellow Post-it note stuck to his TV that read: 555-438-6821.

He grabbed his phone, but instead of dialing that number he called the B-Squad office and had Lexie patch him through to Isaac.

"They have her," he said by way of greeting.

"Motherfuckers," Isaac yelled over the sound of the helicopter. "So what's the plan?"

Drew took another look at that Post-it note and certainty settled over him as tangible as armor. "I'm going to make sure they live to regret this and if even a single hair on Leah's head is hurt, I'm not gonna concern myself with the living part."

* * *

Leah

Warren Law did not look like Leah's mental image of the head of an international jewelry theft ring. He wore pleated Dockers and a pressed golf shirt. If this were a movie, he'd be the unassuming friend who was actually the heroine's insane stalker because she'd had the audacity to turn him down for sex and his fragile male ego had been harmed. He was a total nice-guy-asshole type.

Warren stopped in front of the kitchen chair she was tied to and peered down at her. She had to make quite the picture since she was Duct taped to the chair, had a length of the silver tape across her mouth and her left cheek was so swollen she could see the edge of it in her peripheral vision. If she could have flipped him off or snarled out a smart ass remark she would have. As it was, the best she could do was glare at him, which earned her a patronizing chuckle.

Warren patted her on the head and turned back to the shitbag of a dirty FBI agent. "I'm beginning to think she's not that important to him."

"She is," Curtis said, his voice sounding funny since he'd stuffed gauze up his broken nose.

Warren went stiff. "Are you telling me I'm wrong?"

"No, sir." Curtis's gaze dropped to the floor and he took a step back from the other man. "It's just, you haven't seen the two of them together. It's like they're an old married couple who still bang on the regular."

"How eloquent," Warren said.

That was one word for it. Leah would have chosen bullshit. She hated Drew Jackson. It was just she couldn't help herself from stripping him naked—or wanting to—every time she was within sixty miles of him. That didn't mean anything. Sure, she'd grown up crushing on him and that summer he'd become her first love, but that was over. The feeling had flipped. Love and hate were opposite sides of the same coin, not the same thing at all.

Curtis shrugged. "You don't pay me to talk pretty."

"True." Warren nodded. "I pay you for the information you can provide about what the FBI is up to. Now that is no more."

Oh, he sounded pissed. Looked like someone wasn't going to get a good employee review come bonus time.

"They knew," Curtis said. "It's why I had to get rid of Ritter. He'd been informing on me."

Got rid of. You didn't have to be a scumbag to know what that meant. Fuck. All of the sass drained right out of her.

"You do realize you didn't tape over her ears too?" Warren asked, jerking her chin toward Leah.

Nope. She wasn't here. Not really. The ringing in her ears from being knocked out was too loud for her to hear anything. Surely, if she thought it loud enough they'd hear it.

Curtis turned and looked at her, his hand going to his swollen nose. "Is she really getting out of here?"

"No, I guess not," Warren said.

The urge to panic and fight against her bonds was nearly overwhelming, but she'd already gone that route when she'd woken up and found herself in the shitty kitchenette. It hadn't helped.

"Everything with this heist has gone wrong, my cover is blown, and now I'm stuck clipping all the loose ends," Warren said, grimacing. "The good news though is after I move this damned diamond, I'm going to disappear to someplace tropical for a good long while."

Warren's phone rang out a hard rock anthem. Everyone stilled. Warren glanced down at the phone, his smile sent a shiver down her spine.

"Sheriff, I'd begun to think you didn't care," Warren said before pausing, an amused expression on his face. "You have a real talent for language. I've never been threatened quite like that before and believe me, in this line of work, being threatened is du rigor. However, we're not here for a friendly chat. We'll make the exchange tomorrow at high noon. Bring the diamond to the high school gym." He waited while Drew said something Leah couldn't make out. "Yes, I'm aware it will be crowded, what with all the last minute preparations for the reunion tomorrow. This place really goes all out for that sort of thing, don't they?" She couldn't understand the words Drew used in response but the pissed off tone was unmistakable. "I suppose you don't give a shit about the reunion preparations. I hope that attitude doesn't carry over to sweet Leah here. I'd hate to be disappointed." Without waiting for Drew to say anything else, Warren hung up and slid the phone in the front pocket of his pleated Dockers, walked over to the kitchen counter and slid open one of the drawers.

"All set?" Curtis asked.

"Almost." He took something out of the drawer and spun around, something black and metal in his hand.

She had a second to register the handgun with a silencer attached before the muffled shot boomed in her ears, a million times louder than it was in reality. Curtis went down but left half of his head on the wall behind him.

“I’m not normally a violent man,” Warren said, his voice cold. “But loose ends are meant to be tied”

Leah couldn't breathe. Couldn't think. Panic roared in her ears. She yanked at the Duct taped bonds securing her forearms to the chair with all her strength and tugged at the ones holding her calves to the chair legs. By the time the fear and adrenaline had abated enough for her to think any single thought beyond "get out" she realized Warren had disappeared down the hall leading away from the kitchen, leaving her alone with the dead man and her terrified thoughts.