Page 10 of Torgash

I slam a bottle of whiskey onto the bar. "Watch your mouth."

"There's the tell." Diesel sets his pizza down, wiping grease on his jeans. "Since when do you give a damn when I talk shit? This new sheriff’s got under your skin already?"

My fist connects with the bar top hard enough to rattle glasses. "I said. Watch. Your. Mouth."

Diesel stares at my hand, then up at me, genuine surprise crossing his face. "Holy shit. You actually—"

"It's not about the woman," I cut him off, pouring two fingers of whiskey. "It's about the badge. The timing. The fact that she showed up in my town two months after we pushed Royce into a corner." I pause, staring at the amber liquid. "Cornered animals are dangerous, and we've been dismantling his operation. He's about to lash out, and the last thing we need is a new sheriff walking into that without knowing what she's up against."

I down the whiskey in one swallow, welcoming the burn. It helps me focus on what matters—next moves, not whatever the hell happened when I caught Nova talking to Helen.

“Right." Diesel rises from the couch but stops just out of arm's reach, keeping the bar between us. "Because that looked real business-like back there."

"Drop it,” I growl.

"Fine." He holds up his hands, but his eyes still hold that knowing gleam. "Just saying, if you're going to start a turf war with the new sheriff, make sure it's for the right reasons."

My phone vibrates—Vargan's number flashing on the screen—saving Diesel from getting his teeth rearranged.

"Yeah?" I answer, turning away from Diesel's too-perceptive stare.

"We've got a situation." Vargan pauses, and I hear him exhale slowly. "Your new sheriff's been asking questions."

My grip on the phone tightens. "What kind of questions?"

"The kind that'll put her square on Royce's radar." I hear the background noise of his shop—metal on metal, grinding gears. "Stopped by Greene's after you two left. Helen says Sheriff Reyes returned for lunch and asked some pointed questions about the families we're watching."

"Fuck. She's moving fast. Too fast for her own good." I think of Nova's calculated gaze across the diner, those sharp eyes taking stock of everything. Of course she'd move this quickly. Should have fucking seen it coming.

"Helen thinks she's legit. Asked all the right questions. Wanted contact info for the families involved. Played it off as community building."

"Those are the wrong questions if you want to stay off Royce's radar." I pour another shot, mind racing. "How the hell did she get that info so quickly?"

"Maybe she came prepared. Or maybe GBI gave her a head start."

The thought that Nova might be working with incomplete intel, walking blind into Royce's web, tightens my chest. "Either way, she needs to know what she's up against before she gets herself killed."

"Savvy thinks we should reach out. Warn her what she's stumbled into. If she's going after the same targets we are, better we coordinate than let her walk into a trap alone."

"Too late for that." I think of Nova's cool dismissal at the diner, the distance she maintained while assessing every inch of me. "She's already decided we're part of the problem." The words taste bitter, and I hate that they do. Hate that part of me wants her to see something else when she looks at me.

"Maybe." Vargan pauses, waiting. He wants me to be the one to approach her. To test those waters. The idea of getting close to her again—close enough to smell that citrus scent, close enough to see if her pulse jumps when I'm near—sends heat through my chest that has nothing to do with strategy.

"I'll handle it," I say finally.

Vargan's voice drops to barely above a whisper. "We need that badge on our side, not up our ass. Especially with Roycelurking in the shadows. Which means we better keep her alive so we can use that authority when we need it."

I end the call, pocket the phone, and find Diesel watching me. Vargan's right, and I hate that he is. But part of me thinks he's got it backwards—we're not the ones who need to protect her. We're the ones who need protection from what she can do with that brilliant mind and legal authority if she decides we're the enemy.

"Sheriff's asking about the foreclosure families," I explain, each word clipped. "She’s moving too fast, maybe putting herself at risk."

"You think Royce will see her as a threat?" Diesel crosses his arms.

"If he doesn't already."

Diesel nods slowly. "Want me to stop by her office and feel her out? I can play nice."

The image of Diesel walking into the station with his easy confidence, flashing that smile that's charmed half the women across three counties, sends a wave of possessive rage through me that's as unexpected as it is unwelcome.

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