I sat in the car, both hands on the steering wheel, surveying the surroundings. Rabid Dog members went about their business, ignoring the obvious cop in their midst. They were used to this. I flipped over the sun visor and checked my makeup. “You can do this, White,” I said aloud. “No fear.”
I stepped out of my vehicle and walked over to the entrance, a hesitant hand on my holstered weapon. Nobody was going to surprise me today. A few members were crouched next to their bikes with tools littered all over the ground. I entered the warehouse and was transported to a nice-looking bar with pool tables. It was ten in the morning and the place was packed. Every barstool was taken and the pool tables were full of activity. “Enter the Sandman” by Metallica was blasting through the speakers.
“Eight ball, corner pocket,” a very tall and large man said. I recognized his face from the Rabid Dog file. He was Big Mike, the Sgt-at-Arms.
“You don't have the balls to make that shot,” another man with shaved hair replied. That was Leland, the Vice-President to Sawyer.
I watched for a moment as Big Mike bent over, pulled back the cue, and sent the ball flying. The white ball rolled to the corner and lightly tapped the eight ball, knocking it into the corner pocket. The large man stood up and grinned. “You owe me a drink.”
Leland nodded and conceded, walking over to the bar. I approached Big Mike and asked, “Excuse me, I'm looking for Sawyer.”
“Good morning, Officer,” he said, polishing the tip of the cue.
“Actually it's Sheriff.”
His eyebrows raised as he looked me up and down. “Well you sit tight, Sheriff, while I get the boss.”
I walked around the bar and everyone ignored me or they were too drunk to notice. Did they really do this everyday? A an older woman with sleeves of tattoos was behind the bar slinging the drinks. She stood out as the only woman from the Rabid Dog file: Claire, the den mother. She had such a sordid past that I couldn't read it all.
Sawyer came out from a back room. He bit his bottom lip as he checked me out from head to toe. “Nice to see you again, Sheriff.”
I rolled my eyes. All men were the same. “Sawyer, can we talk somewhere private.”
He bowed before me. “Of course, your Highness.” I followed Sawyer into a meeting room with a large wooden table in the center. A large Rabid Dog spider was carved into the middle. These guys went all out with the theme. A row of picture frames of Rabid Dog members were hung on the far wall.
“What are these?” I asked, “Rabid Dog members of the month?”
Sawyer shook his head. “Brothers we've lost.”
Oh shit! How could I be so stupid? “I'm sorry, Sawyer. I shouldn't have asked.”
Sawyer went to the last picture frame in the row. A man with glasses stared back at me. “Issac died last year.” He kissed his fingers and pressed them against the photo. Did this outlaw have a heart? Sawyer glanced at me with dark eyes. “What can I do for you, Sheriff?”
I almost forgot the reason for coming here. I planted my feet on the ground and steeled myself. “I need to speak to you about the murder of Garcia of The Death Merchants.
Sawyer motioned for me to sit down at the table and he took the chair next to me. “Yeah I heard about him. Shame for the Mexicans. They're whole organization is probably in disarray.”
“Don't play games with me, Sawyer. It doesn't take a NASA scientist to figure out that the Rabid Dog MC was behind it.”
Sawyer put his hand on his chest like he was hurt from a knife to the heart. “I'm offended that you would even come to such a conclusion. The Rabid Dog MC is here to help the community. I'll confess that we had a beef with the Mexicans but we settled it. We didn't have a reason to kill Garcia.”
This man wasn't very good at lying. He'd need more practice if he was going to stay the President. “Answer me this, where were you two nights ago?”
“At the Stinky Goat with the rest of the crew. We were there until the crack of dawn, drinking and fucking.” Sawyer leaned towards me, his eyes gazing into my soul. I inched away until I was on the edge of my seat.
I gulped. “Can anyone confirm your whereabouts?”
Sawyer smiled. “Of course, you can ask any of those guys out there. They were with me all night.”
I shook my head and rubbed my eyes. They would all corroborate his story. I'd have to go to the bar and find someone who wasn't in deep with the Rabid Dog MC. Probably not going to work but worth a try.
Sawyer grabbed my hand and pulled it away from my face. A jolt of electricity shocked me. My heart spiked and I opened my eyes to find Sawyer only inches away from my face. His manly scent was stirring a desire deep down in the pit of my stomach. I closed my eyes again and parted my lips.
Sawyer's mouth pressed against mine and I inhaled sharply as a surge of adrenaline flowed through me. Time slowed as his other hand reached behind my head and pulled me in closer. His tongue slipped past my lips and danced between my teeth. I was clay in his hands, molding me into a new shape. I wanted him to bend me over the table, rip off my underwear, and take me like an animal.
A small voice in the back of my head spoke to me. This is all wrong, Charlotte. You can't be doing this. And that voice was right.
I broke away from the kiss, putting the back of my hand to my swollen lips. My chest heaved up and down as I looked at the ground. I didn't dare make eye contact with Sawyer. Then I'd really be done for.
Sawyer lifted his wrist with one end of my handcuffs locked around it. “What the hell is this?”
I stood up and side-stepped behind Sawyer. I grabbed his other arm and snapped the handcuffs shut. Sawyer was too shocked to even fight back. “You're under arrest for the murder of Garcia.” I began to list off his Miranda rights as I lifted him up and lead him out of meeting room. It wasn't the way I imagined arresting Sawyer but it had to be done. Now I just needed to get my heartbeat under control from that amazing kiss. I didn't want anyone at the station to suspect that the Sheriff was making out with a criminal. My career would be over before it started.
Chapter Eleven
Sawyer
I stopped listening to Sheriff White a long time ago. Her lips were mesmerizing as she spouted off something about Garcia. That subtle amount of red lipstick was all she needed. My pants were so tight it was difficult to hide my throbbing cock. I imagined myself grabbing her ponytail and shoving her right in my crotch, watching those lips suck me off until cum poured out of her mouth.
I couldn't resist anymore. I grabbed her hand away from her face and went in for the kill. Her lips were as sweet as candy. I breathed her in deeply, our mouths working as one. I forced my tongue into her mouth and she loved it. My hand wandered to the back of her head and I almost thought about making her go down on me. But I couldn't get enough of her kiss. I pushed her against my mouth, harder, shoving my tongue deep down her throat. A quiet moan escaped her lips and I almost came right there and then.
Charlotte pulled away, wiping her mouth, looking like she had just committed the worst crime ever. I felt something cold against my wrist and looked down to see handcuffs around it. Without missing a beat, Charlotte was cuffing my other wrist and reading off my rights. This bitch was good. She played me like a fool.
She lifted me to my feet and pushed me forward and out of the meeting room. The entire MC glanced in my direction and there was an immediate uproar. Claire came from behind the counter. “What the fuck do you think you're doing, cunt?” Claire was known for her legendary cat fights. She could brawl with the best of them. Be easy on her, Claire.
“This man is under arrest,” Charlotte replied, walking me to the exit.
“To hell he is,” Claire screamed, blocking our path. Other members came to her aid, with arms crossed and furrowed brows.
“Easy, guys. She's just doing her job. I'll be out in no time,” I said in a calm voice. This could get out of hand very quickly. A dead sheriff would put all types of heat on us.
Claire huffed before step
ping out of the way.
Sheriff White brought me over to her cop car and gently placed me in the back seat, covering my head to make sure I didn't hit it on the way in. The whole situation was a little ridiculous to me. I knew they didn't have anything on me. I didn't lay a finger on Garcia—even if it was one my men who did the shooting. This was just a way for Charlotte White to show off her newly-gained powers.
The ride to the station was filled with silence and watchful eyes in the rear-view mirror. I leaned forward in my seat against the grate that separated the front and back. “That kiss was really something, wasn't it?” I asked her. Charlotte didn't respond. “I mean the way your lips move against mine, the feel of my fingers on your skin.”
Sheriff White shifted in her seat. “I would advise you to stop talking.”
I relaxed in my seat and glanced outside at the passing scenery. “I bet your still wet right now.”
Charlotte gripped the steering wheel harder and kept quiet. She couldn't stop thinking about the kiss just like me. If she was going to play this game of arresting me, then I wasn't going to make it easy for her.
We arrived at the police station and Charlotte took me into the basement jail where there were four cells lined up in a row. Only one other guy was down there, patrolling his cell back and forth. He was obviously still drunk. The Sheriff produced a key from her pocket and unlocked the farthest cell to the right. She proceeded to undue my handcuffs and pushed me inside the cell before locking me in.
I put my arms through the bars and rested against them. “You're going to miss me, Sheriff,” I said with a big grin.
Charlotte approached the jail cell until our noses almost touched. I could almost taste her mouth again. My whole body tensed up. “You can't have this,” she whispered and walked away, swaying her hips back and forth. My eyes were glued to that hot piece of ass until she was out of sight.
I resigned to the small bench that was supposed to be used for sleeping. The guy in the cell next to me kept pacing back and forth, talking to himself about mayonnaise on hot dogs. “What's your name?” I asked him.
The man stopped in his tracks and looked up. “Name's Ronnie,” he said in a perfectly normal voice. He gazed back down at the floor and started doing his laps again.
Making conversation was the easiest way to pass the time while in lockup. “I'm Sawyer, what're you in for?” Even if your cell-mate was a little crazy.
Ronnie kept shaking his head and kicking his left foot. “No mayonnaise on hot dogs.”
Not going to get much out of him. I lay back on the cement bench and closed my eyes. Steps down the stairs woke me up only moments later. I sat up to see Officer Johnson come in. “Glad to see you back here, Johnson. Guess you wised up and took our advice.” Johnson was our inside guy at the police station. When he told us that he was going to quit because of the new sheriff, we told him to get back there or start digging your own grave.
“I didn't really have a choice, did I?” he replied. In his hands was a bottle of Jack Daniels. He slipped the bottle through the bars and into my hands. “Something to hold you over.”
“Much appreciated.” I unscrewed the top and took a swig. The alcohol burned so good. “Do they have anything on me, Johnson?”
“Just grasping at straws. The new Sheriff thinks she's hot shit. Has no idea how this town works.”
“Keep me posted and keep the booze flowing.”
Johnson nodded and left. I walked over to the edge of my cell and passed the bottle to Ronnie. “Take a drink, Ronnie, it might calm you down.”
Ronnie grasped the bottle with two hands and tipped it until the liquid poured into his mouth. He wiped his chin with his sleeve and handed the bottle back. “Mayonnaise tastes good.”
I took another sip. “It sure does, Ronnie.”
Chapter Twelve
Charlotte
I went to my office to relax and collect myself. Sawyer was so fucking frustrating. He was totally right about the kiss though—it was out of this world. My ankles were still shaking just thinking about it. But I had more important things to consider, like how to make this murder stick. I went over the Rabid Dog and Death Merchants files to see if I had missed anything.
Moore knocked on the door and walked in. “We got the results back from the lab.”
I shut the files. “Did they find a match on that partial thumb print?”
Moore shook his head and handed me the results. No Match. I waved away Moore and tapped my forehead with a pen for ideas. My only option left was to poke holes in his alibi. Sawyer said that he was at The Stinky Goat all night. Let's see what I could find there.
I pulled into the dirt lot of the Stinky Goat. It was only three in the afternoon—a little too early for drinking but the parking lot was full. This town seemed to be different than most. I walked in to find every seat filled and a haze of cigarette smoke. Didn't people have jobs? The place was beyond a shit hole, broken peanut shells covered the floor like carpet. Every step made a crunch beneath my feet. Must be the only bar in town.
I approached a couple sitting in a booth and asked if they knew Sawyer Taylor. They shook their heads and I moved on. After a lot of blank stares, I went looking for the owner.
The guy behind the bar was large and looming with a face of granite. His mutton-chops didn't really match the little bit of facial hair on his chin. I squeezed my way into the bar and waved him over. “I'm looking for the owner.”
He wiped his hands with a cloth and flung it over his shoulder. “You found him.”
“You know a Sawyer Taylor?”
The owner grunted and nodded, taking an empty glass and filling it with beer from the tap.
“Was he here the night before last?”
He handed me the glass of beer and I declined. The froth looked delicious but I was on on duty. “Yeah he was here along with the rest of the Rabid Dog MC. They were drinking and fucking all night.”
I smiled and laughed. He was obviously in with the motorcycle club. I grabbed the glass of beer and downed it. I was royally fucked.
I returned to the station with nothing. I could only hold Sawyer for forty-eight hours and my time was running out. I had nothing to pin the murder on him and I knew that his MC was responsible. I went back to my office and pounded my head against the desk. Mendoza's card with his phone number was still sitting on the edge.
I grabbed it and dialed his number. Hopefully he had some advice on how to deal with this situation.
“Hello?” a groggy voice answered.
“Oh shit, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you. It's Charlotte White.”
He cleared his throat. “Nah it's fine. What can I do for you?”
I took a deep breath and explained the whole situation—the impending MC war, the murder of Garcia, and my arrest of Sawyer Taylor.
“These ain't the streets of LA, Sheriff White. You don't just go and arrest one of the Presidents. The MC's rule this town. You need to learn to work with them.”
“I refuse to believe that the police have no power in this town.”
“The MC's control public opinion. If they want the town to turn on the cops then that's what will happen. Most of the folks might be scared of the bikers but they damn sure respect them.”
My head was spinning. How could all this be true? “What am I supposed to do, Mendoza?”
“It's simple, let Sawyer go and forget this business about the murder. You'll never find the evidence to take them down, they're too smart and they've been playing this game a lot longer than you.”
I thanked Mendoza for the advice and hung up. I didn't want to believe him but I knew he was right. The more I pushed the MC's the harder they'd push back. If I kept going on this warpath, I'd have too many enemies to deal with. Better to make some unholy alliances and do a little bit of good.
But I still had more than twenty-four hours to keep Sawyer. Better let that arrogant bastard rot for a little while longer. His kiss still lingered on my lips. I traced m
y mouth with my fingertips, remembering how good it was. Sawyer was such an asshole.
Chapter Thirteen
Sawyer
Ronnie was beginning to drive me fucking insane. I couldn't take anymore of him preaching about mayonnaise and hot dogs. I thought giving him some liquor would relax him but it only made it worse. He kept pissing himself and the puddle of urine was leaking over into my cell. If only I could break out of here and strangle the life out of him. I'd love to see the light leave his eyes.
Officer Johnson came down and ruined my fantasy of murdering Ronnie. “Time to let you go, crazy man.” Johnson fumbled around for the keys and unlocked the cell. “Shit Ronnie, did you have to piss yourself so much.”
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