Fighting Chance (Misty Grove Book 1) (3 page)

“Listen, Betty, I need to head out soon. Can you get Briggs on the line?”

“On it, Sheriff.”

*****

It was pushing 11:00 p.m. when all was said and done. Bowman didn’t issue an empty threat as he went directly to his connection in the legislative body to complain about the sheriff’s lack of response regarding Cassie Reed’s assault on his man. It would have all been squared away quickly if the DA and his assistant weren’t tied up in other cases and both Trent and Frank refused to bring in Cassie Reed for questioning, much less request for an outright warrant from the judge. It didn’t take five minutes after they’d all gathered in the District Attorney’s office when the prosecutor threw out Bowman’s demand to have Cassie Reed arrested. DA Grimes issued a stern warning against Bowman about letting his thugs trespass on private property again. The DA pulled Trent aside, out of everyone’s earshot and much to Frank’s chagrin. It was not lost on Trent that the older deputy had a protective streak when it came to one Cassandra Reed.

“As soon as Montgomery returns from Lexington, I want you to have a chat with him about reining in his people,” the DA instructed.

Trent grunted. “Why don’t I go have a chat with Ms. Reed tomorrow?” Edington was about twenty minutes away from Misty Grove depending on traffic. It wouldn’t take too much of his time away from the sheriff’s office to get this task off his list.

Grimes chuckled. “I thought you had an encounter with the girl earlier. I know you just gave us the CliffsNotes version of what transpired between you two. Am I right?”

“Yeah,” Trent admitted. “Didn’t want to give Bowman more ammunition against her. We’ve sorted out our differences and that’s all you need to know. I don’t understand these cautionary tales regarding Ms. Reed. I’ve dealt with her. I can handle her.”

Amusement glinted in the DA’s eyes. “Your funeral.”

So now Trent returned to his apartment, his head full of the sexy hellion he’d met this afternoon, and tried to convince himself he was just doing his job. He hadn’t planned on staying as sheriff for long, only until the next election, which was six months from now. Trent liked the bustle of big cities like Dallas and New York. Silence made him hyperaware and uneasy, like he was back in stealth mode waiting for an ambush.
 

He’d left the military six years ago when he was thirty, and yet there were times when flashes of that dangerous life came back to haunt him—a life where he could have lost his humanity and become nothing more than a killing machine. He had pulled himself back and quit before he’d crossed that point of no return. Upon exiting the military, he got his company, Stone Tacticals, off the ground right away. His aim was to provide specialized training for law-enforcement units like the SWAT. He also had contracts evaluating high-threat personnel and site security. Trent sighed, remembering he had some contracts open he needed to wrap up. It was mostly consultancy work, and he’d been upfront about it to the governor that it was non-negotiable for him to break those agreements. He couldn’t tarnish his reputation, given this sheriff gig wasn’t forever.

He was about to unlock his apartment door when a curvy blonde dressed in a pink tank and white shorts moseyed over, carrying a basket of what smelled like baked goods.
 

“Hi, Sheriff Stone.”

“Pia. How are you?”

Pia was his neighbor two doors down. Like Trent, she had just moved to Edington and worked as a nurse at County Hospital. As much as Trent didn’t want to think that her intentions were anything but neighborly, he wasn’t dense. She wanted to sleep with him, but he wasn’t keen on jumping into bed with her. For one thing, he didn’t fuck neighbors, because if shit went south it would be hell living next to each other. Like you were divorced, but you still had to stay together. Secondly, he wasn’t sticking around for long, and he damn well wasn’t looking for a fuck buddy, and that was all this would become. He wasn’t cut out for relationships.

“I’m fine.” The blonde pouted, and it could be Trent’s imagination, but she pushed out her double Ds more. “You were gone since last night.”

“Long shift. Had a couple of calls I was needed on.”

“Hope everything is okay now.”

“It’s settled.”

Pia held out the basket. “I made some muffins this afternoon. Thought you might want some.”

Trent reluctantly accepted the offering. “Thanks. They look tasty.”

“You want some coffee?” She reached out and stroked his arm suggestively. “Or tea? I’ve got a couple of hours before my shift.”

“Pia,” he said firmly. “I’m really busy. I still need to get some work done.”

“You’re always busy.”

“Life of a sheriff, I guess.” He smiled wryly to soften the rejection. She was making it difficult for him not to act like a jerk.

Finally taking the hint, she turned around, making sure he had a full view of her ass in very tiny shorts. “Well,” she looked over shoulder, “you know where to find me.”

It struck Trent that he wasn’t in the least bit tempted, despite all the suggestive cues his neighbor was throwing at him. Pia was a very attractive, voluptuous woman who any other red-blooded male would’ve jumped at the chance to fuck. If it wasn’t for his very inappropriate hard-on during his encounter with Cassie Reed, he would have been concerned about his libido. Sighing heavily, he turned the key to his door and went inside.

Trent sat back in his chair as he answered the last of his e-mails. The scene at the ranch continued to bug him, specifically Cassie, and he couldn’t understand why. He thought back to his previous women. He had been engaged to his high school sweetheart. They were each other’s first, and she was the quintessential prim and proper girl. There was something about demure women he couldn’t wait to turn wild in the bedroom. He got off on that. Apparently, his fiancée wasn’t as demure as he thought, because only three months into his first tour, he received a “Dear John” letter. She didn’t want to become a military wife. Rumor around their hometown was she had been cheating on him almost as soon as he had left. It fucked him up for a while, but he got over it. He had his brothers in the army and they’d been his family, especially when he’d joined Special Forces. There was no stronger bond between men who would fight and die beside you. Serving his country was a great honor, but he had to think how far he could go down the rabbit hole. After the FUBAR of the last mission, Trent knew it was time to quit. Their leaders weren’t what they used to be and politics had caused the loss of too many good men.

Returning to civilian life, he had no problem getting into a relationship again until he realized the submissive women he seemed to be attracted to were also needy, which he liked to a certain extent because it fit nicely into his domineering bedroom proclivities. There was one problem: he realized they couldn’t hack the long hours he spent as a tactical consultant. He frequently traveled out of town, and he just didn’t have enough time to devote to a relationship. At least his last girlfriend broke up with him face to face. She gave him an ultimatum: find another job or she’d walk. She walked. After three failed relationships since he quit the military, he’d just accepted he wasn’t cut out to be with someone. His job always came first.

CHAPTER THREE

It took Trent a few days, but he was finally able to track down Cassie Reed on neutral ground. Showing up at the ranch unannounced was no longer an option, despite the many messages he had left with the ranch’s answering service. Right now he was sitting in his pickup truck, his personal vehicle, watching the lady in question enter Millie’s Diner.
 

The diner was a popular hangout for the locals. The town didn’t attract many tourists, but there seem to be a steady influx of out-of-town clients for the garage. Misty Grove was a self-sustaining community. They certainly didn’t produce much revenue for the county, which was why the county manager was pushing for commercial development in the area. Majority of the property was a large expanse of mixed terrain land owned by one Wyatt Stratford III. Old Georgia money. He owned the land between Edington and Misty Grove. According to the county manager, he was the biggest hindrance to economic expansion in Buckland County.
 

It wasn’t the job of the sheriff to figure out economics for the area, but Trent was interested in peeling back the layers of this small town that had become conspicuous to him in its attempt to become inconspicuous. His curiosity was piqued when he discovered that the majority of the business owners were under or around the age of 50. Most of them in the median age of forty. Older residents had arrived recently and were employed by the businesses or in retirement.
 

Inconspicuous. Like Cassandra Reed at the moment.
 

Trent remembered her with chestnut hair with shades of honey and gold, but right now it was tied back in a single fat braid. She was wearing a loose gingham shirt with rolled up sleeves, its length hanging below the seat of her jeans. Now why in the world would she hide that shapely ass? Trent immediately stopped the train of his thought before it made his pants uncomfortable, but his breath caught for a different reason.

Cassie halted her ascent on the stoop of the diner. Her back visibly stilled before she turned very slowly and stared in his direction.

Fuck.

Although he was sure the reflection of the windshield and his driver’s side window wasn’t to her visual advantage, somehow he knew he’d been made.
 

Cassie continued staring, crossing her arms across her chest and waiting. Trent had no choice but to step out of his Silverado. Though he wasn’t attempting to be undercover, it disconcerted him that the element of surprise was no longer on his side.
 

He stepped out of his truck, closed the door, and walked unhurriedly across the street. Cassie was at the top of the steps, irritation evident on her face.

“Following me, Sheriff?”

“What is it with you Misty Grove folks ignoring calls from the sheriff’s office?” Humor laced his tone as he let his Texas drawl take over.
 

This won him a brilliant smile and he was pissed that his heart did a somersault.

Jesus, cool it, Stone. This is not the first time a pretty lady smiled at you.

But then a suppressed chuckle and the merriment crinkling the corners of those hazel eyes almost made him forget why he was here in the first place.
 

“Sorry about that,” she said. “It’s been busy at the ranch with Colt still out.”
 

“Uh-huh, but not so busy now, I take it? Can I buy you lunch?”

A wariness stole over her eyes, so Trent added quickly, “Consider it a business lunch. Not a date.”

Cassie shook her head. “I wasn’t thinking it was a date. I was wondering how I’ve managed a lunch invite from you considering our last encounter included me pointing a shotgun in your face.”

For some reason, her answer didn’t sit well with him. What if he wanted to ask her out for real? “So ... lunch?”

“I can’t. I’m meeting my brother, but I’m early. If you can tell me what you want in fifteen minutes, let’s go inside.” Her eyes passed his head to look beyond him. “Small town. They might think I’m consorting with the enemy.” She turned and headed toward the diner. Trent’s long strides quickly caught up with her. Yanking the door of the diner open, he gestured for her to walk ahead. She shot him a confused look before moving past him.
 

“Hey, Millie.” Cassie called to a slender woman of about fifty. Here was another incongruity. Millie Cross was an elegant, well-put together, silver blonde woman whose hair was swept up in a severe bun. Her hairstyle accentuated her slightly oval face and swan-like neck. Reading glasses sat low on her aquiline nose. If it wasn’t for the apron, one would think she was a librarian more than a diner proprietor.

“Cassie girl, haven’t seen you in a while. We’ve got your favorite today.” Millie greeted them in an almost rehearsed tone as she motioned for one of her servers to seat them. “Sheriff Stone, I don’t believe we’ve met before. Millie Cross.” The woman held out her hand, which Trent shook in a firm handshake.

“Pleasure to meet you, ma’am”

The woman’s eyes narrowed, and in a chiding tone, she said, “Call me Millie. Please. You make me sound so old.”

“Millie.”

“Same booth,” Cassie told their server. “Lucas and Wyatt are meeting me here. The sheriff is not staying.”

Trent shook his head, not knowing whether to be offended or chuckle at Cassie’s brutish frankness. Their waitress led them to a booth at the corner of the diner, away from the other patrons. She handed him a menu and smiled impishly. “In case you want to order a drink. The name is Kyra.”
 

Cassie rolled her eyes. “Kyra stop flirting with the sheriff. He’s here on official business.”

Kyra stuck her tongue out at her in a good-natured way then flounced off.

“Can’t wait to have me to yourself?” Trent teased.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Cassie retorted. “You have twelve minutes to state your business.”

“All right.” He rested his elbows on the table, leaned forward, and jabbed a finger in her direction. “You, Ms. Reed, need to stop shooting at people.”

“What?”

“In case you didn’t know, you nearly got arrested for shooting Deuce Walker.”

An unrepentant expression came over her face. “I have the right to defend myself.”

“Are you saying he expressed hostile intent?”

“Uh, yeah. I was alone in the ranch house when those three morons drove up.”

“Three?” This was news to him.

“Did Deuce tell you he faced me all on his own? He was with two other guys and all of them carried a sidearm underneath their suit. I raised my shotgun at them and warned them to leave. Deuce laughed and said little girls shouldn’t play with guns or they’d get hurt. He fucking reached for my weapon. He tried to disarm me. Now tell me I didn’t have the right to fire a warning shot at his feet.”

“The man
is
a moron,” Trent said in disgust. He was also angry that she had been outnumbered, threatened, and she hadn’t reported this. “But you’re not too smart either for not calling this in.”