Cole's Mistake (Haven, Texas 8)

He didn’t have a clue what his name actually was because he refused to talk. He was wearing a deputy sheriff’s uniform and he was built like a fucking linebacker, so Cole knew he wasn’t getting past him without one hell of a fight. And considering his left eye was swollen shut from his run-in with Julian’s fist, he knew it was going to be a struggle not to come out second best.

He paced back and forth in the small room. Then moved over to the table where Joel’s bourbon sat in a decanter. He poured himself a healthy glass. Where had Joel gone? After making certain he was awake, he’d asked this guy to watch him before taking off. While he was still trying to make his vision stop seeing double, Deputy Dickhead had half-picked him up and shoved him in here.

“You have no fucking right to detain me. I’ll be talking to your superior.”

The other man snorted.

“I’m leaving now. You touch me, I’ll sue your department.”

The deputy sneered.

“Don’t think I won’t do it. I have plenty of funds at my disposal and a lot of time on my hands. It would be my pleasure to make your life a misery.”

“Seems that’s what you’re good at, leaving a trail of misery in your wake.”

That hit him hard. Who the fuck was this asshole to judge him?

“You might want to put those frozen peas back on your eye, before you ruin your pretty boy looks.”

What the fuck? He glared down at the icy bag of peas sitting on the desk. A big bear of a man had dropped them off, glared at Cole, then left without a word. Seemed he was making friends all over the place.

Dad would be so proud.

“I don’t know what you think you know—”

“I know that you’re Saxon’s fuckwit brother who thinks that anyone who isn’t vanilla is sick and depraved. Have I got that right?” The deputy smirked at him.

Fuck. Shit.

“I might have thought that way, once. I no longer do.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I’ve gone through training to become a Dom,” he blurted out. Fuck. He didn’t owe this asshole an explanation. Maybe he needed to ease up on the bourbon. “For the past six months, I’ve trained and studied and done whatever was necessary to learn how to be a good Dominant.”

The other man gave a derisive snort.

He breathed in then let it out slowly. While he was in there, trading insults with this thick-as-shit asshole, his subs were out there on their own. Doing fuck knew what.

Okay, take it back a step or two.

They’re not yours anymore.

They probably hate your guts.

Deputy Dickhead can’t keep you in here forever. At least you know where they are and that they’re safe. He’d had his investigator searching for them for months. He’d been unable to figure out where they had gone after they’d left their jobs in San Antonio.

And they’d been right there the whole time? Or had they? Why d

id the two of them look so terrible?

“Is Joel with them?” he asked, voicing the worry that had been in his head since he’d walked through the door and seen Keira, his Keira, waiting tables. What was she doing waitressing? She was an amazing personal assistant, why would she work at Joel’s restaurant?

Unless she and Julian were with Joel?

He’d used an investigation firm to give him the basics about Joel’s life. Fuck. Why hadn’t he sent someone out here? If he’d actually sent an investigator out to Haven, they would have found Keira and Julian and he wouldn’t have wasted months . . . He sighed and poured some more bourbon.

No point in what ifs now.