Shades of Grey

by Sam Crescent

  Macy returned, coming out from behind the bar. She stood with Sarah, leaning against it to watch the enemy.

  “Why do you think Stephen is with them?” Macy asked.

  Sarah knew. She didn’t know how, but she had a feeling Clark had found out about the note.

  “My house got busted into last night, a sick possessive note left on the refrigerator. Stephen has the note, which is the only piece of evidence left that anyone was even there.” Sarah continued to watch the group, her nerves on edge. “Come on, Stephen, walk away,” Sarah whispered.

  “What the hell is going on?” Macy asked, nodding at the men.

  Stephen took the young girl on to the dance floor, getting a little too frisky with the touching and stroking. He was falling for one of the oldest tricks in the book, and Sarah couldn’t stand back and let it happen.

  “Get the deputy on the phone, Macy. Tell him that Clark James is trying to get Stephen in trouble. Possibly blackmailing him for that note.”

  “How do you know?”

  “That’s a minor, and Stephen has evidence which, if proven, can cause problems for Clark. You must have seen something similar to this before? Blackmail with a minor?” Or maybe I read too many damn crime novels. “You’ll probably find they’ve got the hotel pre-booked and everything. Just call whoever can help and I’ll distract him.”

  Sarah left her and went on to the dance floor.

  The girl was pretty much fake-fucking Stephen on the stage, gyrating against him and pressing her chest into his. Sarah couldn’t believe no one was prepared to intervene. She wished she had one of her pistols—she’d show Clark a thing or two, limey bastard that he was.

  “Baby, I think it’s time you danced with a real woman,” Sarah purred. She pulled the minor off and moved into place, Stephen’s wobbly arms surrounding her. The alcohol and smoke fumes came off him in waves, the stench overpowering.

  “Hello, Sarah,” he yelled into her ear.

  He really was drunk, possibly even drugged. The guy was sweating something bad.

  “Hello, Stephen.” She smiled but looked around for Macy or John. Neither was in sight, so she continued to dance. “What are you doing here?”

  He started to lean to one side, and she had to use both arms around his waist to hold him steady.

  “Wanted a drink.”

  In other words, Clark had coerced him down here. So he was being manipulated just like all the other times before he’d become sheriff. Where were this guy’s balls? Clark was probably twiddling them in his fist.

  “I’ve lost your letter…evidence,” he slurred.

  There’s the answer.

  Sarah chanced a look at the back of the room. Clark was still in the same place. The hair on the back of her neck stood on end, everything about the situation telling her to retreat.

  “Clark wants you bad,” Stephen said.

  “He can’t have me, and Stephen—you’re the sheriff. You should protect me. Not be standing here drunk and dancing with a minor. Don’t you see what he’s trying to do?”

  “A minor? Damn well looks old enough. She wanted my company.”

  “The girl attends the local high school, you should know that. You carry on with her and you’ll be in jail or worse. Blackmailed by Clark, right? For fuck’s sake, Stephen, think!” She struggled to hold her panic in check. It seemed she couldn’t handle this situation on her own, and it hurt to admit that even to herself.

  A rasping voice Sarah hated broke into her thoughts.

  “I think I should cut in here, buddy.”

  Sarah tensed, knowing she was cornered. She whirled around.

  Clark stood in her personal space.

  “She’s all yours, Clark,” Stephen said, ambling back towards the girl.

  Sarah made to turn, but Clark grasped her waist in his claws. She glared at him and tried to move out of his way.

  “Let go of me,” she demanded.

  “I don’t think so.”

  He spun her around the small room, and people just ignored them, his touch at her waist bruising as she continued to fight with him to leave her alone. This had been a really bad idea, and now she wished she’d done exactly what Travis had told her and stayed at home. Safe and sound.

  “You smell nice, Sarah,” he said into her ear, breath hot.

  “Stay away from me, you repulsive bastard.”

  “Feisty little bitch. I wonder if Travis likes that about you.”

  “Whatever he likes, it’s none of your business.”

  She looked for Macy and saw her biting her fingernail, nerves clearly on edge. Macy gave her apologetic eyes that told her neither the deputy nor John had arrived yet. Fuck, this evening was turning into a nightmare.

  She wanted home and a hot bath ASAP.

  And Travis.

  “You know, there was a wolf on your property last night,” Clark drawled.

  Frowning, Sarah turned her attention back to the man holding her. “What?”

  “A wolf looking through your window. I shot the little fucker in the foot before he could get any closer. That kind of protection deserves some sort of reward, don’t you think?”

  She knew what he meant. His thoughts repulsed her.

  “You were on my property? I could have you done for trespassing.”

  “I work there, darlin’, and any judge in the county would see it as me doing a young woman a favour. They might even reward me.”

  Travis had been shot in the foot. Travis was outside her house in the rain. Travis couldn’t be a wolf—what the fuck was Clark talking about? He was lying, trying to goad her into something. Or trying to get out of admitting he’d shot Travis. She held back a retort, one that would have shown him how pissed off he’d made her. She didn’t want that.

  “Maybe we should go somewhere now and you can show your appreciation with your mouth,” Clark said.

  Sarah couldn’t stop the disgust she felt inside appearing on her face. She grimaced, eyes narrowed. His revolting suggestion made her sick to her stomach.

  “Get your fucking hands off me.” She slapped him around the face, throwing herself away from him.

  The bar went silent in between songs. She felt as though everyone had seen her attack him yet they stood by and did nothing. She fell to the floor, stumbling in her ridiculous high heels.

  “I don’t think the lady wants you, buddy.” A man—a stranger to town—approached in an attempt to protect Sarah, and got a bloodied nose and thrust into the crowd for his trouble.

  The room went on tense alert as the man came back towards Clark with his fists raised, about to return a few punches of his own. Clark’s cronies brought out guns and weapons as a warning. Shit, this was going from bad to fucking worse, and all Sarah could do was remain sprawled on the damn floor like a helpless girl.

  Get the hell up and get out of here!

  She remained in place, rooted as she watched the scene unfolding before her.

  “Now, now,” Clark said when the man was nearly upon him. “This is our town, and we don’t want to start causing trouble. This is none of your business. Back off.”

  He’d spoken clearly and surely, and the stranger must have seen by the glint in Clark’s eyes that he’d be better off walking away. He cupped his nose and retreated back to his table, consoled by a thin man in a Stetson. Had it really been that long since she’d come into town for a social visit? Clark had been a blip on the radar last time she’d checked.

  Sarah managed to get up as Clark moved towards her. He grabbed her arms, holding her in a dead lock, and she brought her knee up, slamming it into his dick. He released her with a pained grunt.

  “I said, don’t fucking touch me! And if you come into my house again I’ll cut your fucking dick off,” she warned.

  “Yeah, who’s going to stop me?”

  “I am.” Everyone turned towards the voice who’d challenged Clark.

  Standing in the doorway, looking menacing and sexy as sin, was Travis Williams, her p
rotector, ready for a fight.

  Chapter Seven

  Travis stared at Clark, hands balled, the need to connect them to the man’s body an insistent urge. “You’d better fuck the hell off out of here, if you know what’s good for you.”

  Clark smirked, turned to fully face Travis and sucked in a noisy breath, chest filling with air. He looked ridiculous, the way he tried to pump himself up as some indestructible force.

  Indestructible, my ass.

  “You’re not my foreman here, asshole.” Clark smiled, a nasty grin that contorted his face. He narrowed his eyes and stretched his lips wider, the bottom one glistening with spittle. Sweat broke out on his face, giving him a disgusting wet sheen. “So dishing out orders isn’t quite gonna cut it. I’m off the clock. No work rules apply here in Macy Jo’s. Nothing applies here other than having a good time, friends meeting with friends, people chilling out after a hard week’s work.” He glanced around, nodding at everyone in turn, gaze finally settling on Macy as though he dared her to refute his claim. “The people here know I’m minding my own business, having a drink with my buddies.” He gestured to the whole room. “This woman here, she just got the wrong end of the stick is all.”

  “That woman,” Travis said, “is your boss. And, from where I’m standing, she got the right end of the stick. You need to understand when a woman says no she means no and leave her the fuck alone.”

  “Yeah, yeah, whatever. Women say no, but us men, we all know they mean yes. Just being coy, that’s what they are.” Clark waved a hand in dismissal and swivelled to rejoin his cronies.

  The ball of anger in Travis’ gut grew tighter. What the hell was up with this guy? What part of ‘get off me’ didn’t he understand? How could he go around like he did, disregarding people’s feelings and doing whatever the fuck he liked, bullying the townsfolk into standing by his side? When had he discovered his power over them? Or had he always been like this? Clark had lived here all his life, and Travis had no trouble imagining the younger Clark terrorising the neighbourhood until people just did whatever they could to appease him.

  Travis held a hand out to Sarah, who walked over to him on unsteady legs, although she straightened her spine and lifted her chin. Dignified, even in the worst and most embarrassing of circumstances. Shit, he admired her so much. She stood by his side, and he settled one hand at the base of her spine, feeling her well-concealed shivers.

  Clark had a lot to answer for.

  “Clark,” she called, voice surprisingly strong and even.

  The bastard glanced at her over his shoulder, putting one hand on his hip. “What?”

  “You know you mentioned Travis being your foreman?”

  “Yeah? So what?” He scowled, bowing his arms at his sides as though he wanted to punch her.

  “He isn’t,” she said.

  What? She was taking away Travis’ new title? What the fuck had he done now?

  “Good.” Clark turned to face her. “Glad to see you’ve got a snippet of sense inside that tiny brain of yours. I was beginning to wonder.”

  Travis stepped forward, nausea swirling inside him at the blatant rudeness of the man. “If you so much as say one more word like that to her again I’ll—”

  “He isn’t your foreman,” Sarah interjected, voice loud, “because you’re fired. I don’t want to see your smarmy little ass anywhere near my ranch. I’ll send one of the guys over with any wages you’re owed. No one touches me like you did. No one speaks to me that way.” She paused, glaring at Clark with spite in her eyes. “And, just so you know, I have a gun in every damn room—and I’m not afraid to use them.”

  “You fucking bitch whore,” Clark snarled, striding towards her. “You’re going to regret ever speaking to me like that.”

  He reached her quickly, lifting his hands, fingers splayed, claw-like.

  Travis nudged Sarah backwards and stepped between them. “Fuck the hell off or so help me God I’ll hammer you. Accept what the lady said and move on.”

  He shoved Clark’s chest, but the man didn’t flinch or move.

  “Lady? Fucking lady?” Clark laughed, showing yellowed teeth, the two front ones chipped on opposing corners. “She ain’t no damn lady. She’s a bitch on two legs—legs she’d open for anyone given half the chance.”

  Travis didn’t understand how Clark had arrived at that conclusion, but he didn’t give it another thought. His body took over his mind, one fist rising to connect with Clark’s jaw. Clark fell backwards, into a surge of his friends who’d no doubt anticipated things were going to end up this way. He fought to right himself, cheeks a red blaze, eyes snapping anger.

  “You motherfucking—” Clark spluttered, pushed to his feet by several pairs of hands. He shucked them away, slapping behind him. “Get the hell off me, jerks. I don’t need your help. I’m well able to look after myself.”

  He lunged forward, head down, in place to ram Travis in the gut. Travis sidestepped and Clark sailed on, crashing into two bar stools then coming to rest as a sprawling heap on the floor. Travis eyed him, waiting for the madman to spring back on to his feet and take another pop. Clark remained where he was, a tangle of arms and legs, breath coming out of him in fast, sharp bursts.

  “You had better fuck off out of here,” Clark rumbled, “before I get up.”

  “Why?” Travis asked. “Reckon you can take me on?”

  “Yeah, and you know it. Take you on and finish you the fuck up.” Clark hawked and spat, wiping his mouth with the back of one hand.

  “That a threat?”

  Travis waited for an answer of denial. No way was Clark stupid enough to admit anything in front of a bar full of rapt people.

  “Yeah, that’s a threat all right.” He stared, irises turning dark, his mouth a sideward bracket. “One I’ll hold good. If I see you, wolf boy, you’d better run.”

  Scrub him not being stupid enough… And fuck! ‘Wolf boy’…

  “So do it now,” Travis said. “May as well get on with it while the going’s good, while you’re angry. Or are you too spent to get up and deal with me right now? Hurt yourself going down, did you? Is that it? You trying to save face? Fucking pansy.”

  Maybe he shouldn’t have goaded the man, but he couldn’t help himself. Better they sorted their differences now, put an end to the feud and drew a line under it. With witnesses. Travis was angry—shit, was he angry—but Travis reckoned he could hold off shifting while in a tussle with Clark. If he allowed himself to teeter on the brink of changing, he’d get the extra strength he needed to teach this prick a lesson—that messing with Travis—or Sarah—wasn’t the best thing Clark had chosen to do.

  “Nah.” Clark sat up, in no hurry to get to his feet. He planted his palms on the floor behind him and leant back, looking for all the world like he was having a bit of relaxation time. “I prefer leaving you in suspense. You know, looking over your shoulder. And then, when you least expect it, going in for the kill while your guard’s down, your woman’s alone, ready for me to visit.”

  Travis shook his head, the mention of Sarah being alone revealing Clark’s intentions hadn’t changed. He still planned to make her his, whatever the cost. He wasn’t going to give up. Sarah wasn’t interested, and everyone here had seen that but… Travis had no doubt the guy knew exactly how Sarah felt about him, but he didn’t care.

  What Clark wanted, Clark got, simple as that.

  Not this time.

  “You heard that, right?” Travis said loudly, appealing to the crowd. “You heard what he’s got in mind? Something he’s had in mind before tonight. Reckons he’s going to force himself on Sarah. Any of you got a problem with that?”

  No one responded, just stared back at him with blank faces.

  “What the hell is up with you people? How can you support a jerk like him?” He kept Clark in his peripheral, making sure he’d spot him the minute the bastard made a move.

  Still no response.

  “Stephen?” Travis looked at the sheriff, far g
one on alcohol by the looks of him. “You don’t do anything about threats these days? You hang out with guys who make them now?”

  Stephen shrugged.

  “You’d better watch you don’t lose your job, Sheriff,” Travis said, “or worse, hanging out with the likes of him.” He jerked his thumb in Clark’s direction.

  Why wasn’t Clark getting up? Why the hell was he allowing people to see him down like that? It went against everything Travis knew about the man—someone who always showed himself as hard, able to take care of himself. Before tonight, if Travis had been told Clark was acting submissive in body, if not in speech, he’d never have believed them. Did he want everyone to see he wasn’t going to fight, wasn’t the one causing trouble here? The innocent party despite his threats?

  Clever bastard has it all worked out.

  Met with silence and stares once more, Travis looked back to Clark. “You’d better not show up on Sarah’s land again. I see you there…” He thought back to what he’d told Sarah he’d do. “I’ll rip your fucking throat out. And that isn’t a threat but a goddamn promise.” He turned from Clark’s sneering face and back to Stephen. “You hear that, Sheriff? I just threatened your new buddy. Don’t you reckon you need to do something about it?”

  Stephen reddened, shuffling his feet and looking to Clark for guidance. Where had the old Stephen gone? How had he been replaced by this insipid yes-man in a matter of hours? Jesus, he’d only seen Stephen this morning, and he’d been his usual self—ready to work and solve a crime, helping Sarah with the break-in.

  He been slipped drugs or something?

  The bar was silent except for breathing and the occasional shifted foot.

  “Aww, fuck you all. I can see what’s going on here,” Travis said, taking Sarah’s elbow. “Good luck in your small-minded worlds, led by a small-minded prick. And if something happens to me—or Sarah—maybe your consciences will prickle hard enough for you to stand up against a man who seems to have you all dangling on his hook. Come on.” He guided Sarah to the door, on alert that Clark might take this moment to jump up and attack.