Page 105 of Claimed By the Deputies

Before she can reach for the phone, Tyler points his gun at her. “Sit the fuck down, and shut the fuck up.”

He’s calm.

Calculated.

Laser focused.

Pissed off.

It’s all good. It means I can still control the outcome of what we’re about to do. As long as I’m willing to break a few rules in the process.

The assistant sits back down as instructed, watching us with fear as we walk through the double doors of Hamilton’s office. Tyler stays back to keep an eye on her.

“The last thing we need is crooked cops coming after us,” he says.

Hamilton stands, waving his hands in a defensive manner. The panic is so clearly imprinted all over his face, it’s almost pathetic to watch him squirm.

“Sheriff, I don’t know what’s happening?—”

“Don’t even think about it,” I cut him off and go around the desk as Mitch casually sits in one of the guest chairs, donning a cold smile. “We need to talk, Mayor.”

“I just need to call my lawyer and?—”

He doesn’t get to finish his sentence because I punch him in the gut with so much force it knocks the air out of his lungs.

“Sit down,” I order.

He grunts and gasps, trying to breathe again as he wraps his arms around his belly. “This is… this is police brutality. On a government official!”

“And it’s gonna get a hell of a lot worse if you don’t start talking,” Mitch says. “Mayor, we’ve got you and your Silver Stallion buddies dead to rights. Drug distribution. Conspiracy. Racketeering. I doubt you’re going to see the sun for more than an hour a day for the rest of your miserable life.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about?—”

“Cut the shit. A woman’s life is at stake, and I promise you, Hamilton, if anything happens to her, you won’t make it to prison.”

Hamilton stares at me for a long, daunting second. I can almost hear the wheels in his head turning. Screeching. The inner torture as he’s about to either lose everything or meet his maker. In this moment, I fear I may have lost my own self-control unless he gives us a good and useful answer.

He knows I’m not fucking around.

“Okay. Hold on,” he manages, recovering his breath.

“I’m done waiting,” I say. “Trevor Callaghan. He’s with the Silver Stallions, and the Stallions have plenty of hideouts in and around Frost Valley.” I lean over him. “I need a list.”

“What? I don’t have all the details, and I have no idea where to find this Trevor fella you’re talking about?—”

I punch him again, a right hook to the cheek. His jaw crackles under the blow. His sweaty jowls jiggle from the brutal impact. Blood trickles from the corner of his mouth. I’m sure I broke a tooth or two, and I’m prepared to do worse to save Tassia and our child.

“Trevor Callaghan. Silver Stallion hideouts. You know them. You work with them. I need locations outside of town. They’re probably secluded. Out of sight and earshot. Most likely on high ground so they can defend the location. Tell me now or I’m breaking the other side of your face next.”

He disgusts me. I can’t wait to cuff him and throw his sorry ass in jail. Our town will need so much recovery work once he’s outof office. But until then, I need this bastard’s intel to find Tassia before it’s too late.

“NOW!” I snap.

“Okay, okay, give me a second. I can’t even think straight,” he replies. “Out of town. Secluded. High ground. Dexter has something near Balsam Lake. A lodge. I think his grandfather left it to him. Used to be a resort but nobody took care of it. It’s not big, but it’s got two floors and about six bedrooms. Dark green and white façade. Just off Balsam Road leading into Seager.”

“Any other places he might have?”

He nods. “My assistant can pull the property records. We keep copies of ownership deeds from all over the district here. She’ll help you.”

---