“I told you—she didn’t want to see you.” Reid’s tone stays calm, but there’s steel under it now. “And I’m not going to override that. We’re here to protect our clients, not pressure them into talking to law enforcement.” He holds the sheriff’s gaze. “If you’d come back with a warrant, that would’ve been different.”
“You gave me paperwork,” he mutters, like that’s somehow a personal insult. “After everything I’ve done for you.”
I let out a quiet breath through my nose. Here we go.
“What exactly have you done for us, Sheriff?” Reid asks, his tone flat, controlled—but I can see the tension in his shoulders, the way his fingers flex once at his side. He’s not in the mood for this. Not even close.
The sheriff either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care. “You know a lot of folks around here think you’re running a cult up there,” he says. “Some of them ain’t too happy about it. But I keep them off your ass. Or at least I try to.” He tilts his head, eyes narrowing slightly. “But tangling with this Mayor Barnes guy? That’s a bad move. If he wants to, he can stir things up real quick. You catch my drift.”
The bar noise seems to fade again, tension creeping back in, sharper this time.
“Is that a threat?” I ask.
“It’s a warning.” He points the neck of the bottle at me like it’s making his case. “Be careful. Law enforcement can order a raid anytime they want. Even if they don’t find a damn thing, that kind of attention? It sticks. It hurts business.” His gaze flicks between us. “And he’s a very powerful man. You might not want to give him a reason to come after you.”
Something in me snaps. “You saying because he’s powerful, we just hand her back so he can keep abusing her? That what you’re saying?”
“Relax, Luke,” Reid cuts in, low and sharp.
I don’t miss the way his body’s gone tight, coiled like a spring ready to go. He’s just better at holding it in.
A couple of heads turn from a nearby table. My voice carried more than I meant it to. The alcohol’s probably doing its part there.
“That’s not what I’m saying,” the sheriff replies, lifting his hands slightly. “I’m saying you boys should find a smarter way to handle this.”
“Then enlighten us,” I shoot back. “What’s the smarter way?”
“Hey.” He gives a short, humorless laugh. “No need to get pissy with me. Don’t shoot the messenger. I’m trying to look out for you.” He gestures lazily between us. “I like you, Luke. I don’t want to see you lose this little setup you’ve got. But the mayor?He ain’t playing around. He wants his wife back, and if you keep pushing this…” He shrugs. “You better be ready for the fallout.”
Reid lets out a slow breath, like he’s forcing himself to stay level. “Thanks for the information.”
That’s his way of ending the conversation.
He pushes up from the table and drops a hundred down without even checking the bill. I follow his lead, grabbing my jacket, the chair legs scraping faintly against the floor as we move. The sheriff stays where he is, watching us with that same loose, half-drunk expression.
We’re almost clear of the table when Reid’s phone rings.
He answers immediately. “Hello?”
I glance toward the window, only just noticing the rain hammering down outside. It’s coming down hard now, loud enough to compete with the noise inside. When the hell did that start?
“What?”
Reid’s reaction cuts through everything. His voice sharpens, cracks, and suddenly all the focus snaps back to him. His jaw tightens hard enough to show, his whole expression shifting in an instant.
“Thanks for telling me, Amanda. I’ll be right there.”
He hangs up, already moving.
“What happened?”
“Amanda said Sierra left in her car.”
The words hit like a punch. “She did?”
“Yeah.”
“What, in this storm?”