Cole: A Bad Boy Romance (15 page)

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 stepping 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.”

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 my mouth with my fingertips, remembering how good it was. Sawyer was such an asshole.

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.”

“What the fuck is wrong with that guy?” I asked.

Johnson led Ronnie out of the cell. “
Found this guy wandering down Main Street, exposing himself to anyone who passed by. Definitely has a few screws loose. He's in the hands of the doctors at Sacks County Hospital now.”

Ronnie turned to me with horror in his eyes. “Mayonnaise...hot dogs.” And that was the last I ever saw of him. Thank fucking God.

“Hey Johnson, I need to make a phone call.”

Johnson crammed his hands into his pocket and pulled out a cellphone. “Here, don't let the Sheriff see you with this.” He passed the phone through the bars.

I dialed the only number I knew by heart—the MC. A deep grunt answered the phone. Could only be Big Mike. “Hey Mike, can you get Claire for me?” Big Mike grunted again.

“Hey fella, how's it going in there?”

“Just fucking peachy, Claire.”

“Oh come on, Sawyer, can't be that bad. It's not like you're in prison.”

I sat down on the bench and lifted my feet off the wet floor. “Well your not ankle-deep in piss right now.”

“What if I was cleaning the bathrooms here?”

The MC bathroom was utterly disgusting. I've seen the most terrifying shit shows ever. No way in fucking hell I'd ever clean those. “Claire, where's the lawyer?”

“Somewhere on a private island, drinking martinis. He told us not to worry. They'll have to release you tomorrow morning since they got nothing on you.”

Fucking lawyers. “I'll need someone to pick me up.”

“Don't worry, I'll be there, hun.”

I ended the call and hid the phone under the pillow. The stench of piss was getting to me. It was almost like Sheriff White was torturing me for fun now. I'd have to show her who ran things in this town. She'd be on her knees soon enough, begging for my big cock.

Now that I had the jail to myself, I unzipped my pants and pulled out my long shaft. It felt like a century since the last time I had a chance to jerk off. I closed my eyes and pictured Charlotte's lips wrapped around me. It only took a few strokes until I came all over the floor.

I cleaned my hands off in the sink and stared at my reflection in the broken mirror. Damn, that bitch would be a good fuck. I just needed one night between her legs. Then I could move on and forget her forever.