Page 90 of Diamonds in the Mud

The redhead’s eyes narrowed slightly, but she shook her head. “Can’t say I do,” she said, her tone guarded. “If you ain’t buying a drink, you’d best move on.”

I exchanged a glance with Rayne, and we both knew what that meant. We were on our own in this place, with no one to watch our backs but each other.

“Beer,” I said, slapping a twenty down on the bar.

With a nod, the redhead cracked open two cold bottles with the bottle opener on her belt buckle and set them down in front of us. The twenty disappeared into her jean shorts pocket, and she turned away without getting me any change back.

We made our way deeper into the dimly lit area and found two chairs to sit down in. The sound of laughter and conversation was barely audible over the loud banjo music. We scanned the faces around us for any sign of the men. So far, no one seemed to fit the description.

We hardly spoke as we focused on watching everyone who was watching us. It was very obvious tensions were high now that we were there.

But as the minutes stretched into hours, it became increasingly clear that finding those two men wouldn’t be easy.

“I doubt they’re going to show,” she said under her breath. “I think we made our point. Most likely, word has spread that we’re looking for them. This could really mess things up. Us being here. Together.”

“Right,” I agreed.

After two hours of listening to the music and sipping warm beer, Rayne and I made our way out of the Gator Hole. Somehow, the night air felt heavier than before, suffused with tension and the promise of danger. We had come up empty-handed, and I could feel the frustration gnawing at the edges of my resolve.

But before we could even reach the parking lot, a pair of shadows emerged from the darkness, blocking our path. My hand instinctively went to the holster at my waist where my backup weapon sat, but I forced myself to stay calm while my senses remained on high alert.

I was right. The two men were huge and easily loomed over us, casting a menacing shadow in the dim light. They were the same ones who had jumped me a few days back, I was instantly sure of it. I could see that they recognized me when both of their faces twisted into smirks of triumph.

“Well, well, well,” one of them drawled, his voice dripping with malice. “Looks like we found ourselves a couple of marks. This one’s come back for another whooping.”

Rayne stepped forward, her stance defiant. “We’re not looking for trouble,” she said, her voice steady despite the danger that lurked. “But if you want to start something, I’ll wager that we’ll finish it.”

The men exchanged a glance, a silent communication passing between them. Then, without warning, they burst out laughing.

“Go on home to your daddy, little girl,” one of them said.

“Where’s my bike?” I asked in a firm tone. Both men’s smiles turned harder.

“It’s ours now. Along with everything else that punk owed us.”

“So you killed Mason Williamson because he owed you money?” Rayne asked as she lifted her chin.

I watched as both men went on high alert.

“You’re that little cop girl from Gemsville, ain’t you?” one of them asked. “Your daddy runs things over there.”

“We didn’t do shit to no one,” the other said when Rayne didn’t reply.

We were losing them. If I didn’t do something quickly to turn the conversation around, we’d walk away empty-handed.

Stepping forward, I said, “I don’t give a shit about anything but getting my bike back,” I said, trying to veer the conversation away from the fact that I had made the drop and now I was here with a cop.

“Like we said, it was payment.” Then, without warning, both men lunged forward, their fists swinging in a flurry of blows right at Rayne.

I reacted instinctively, knocking Rayne out of the way from the first fist. The blow landed on my left shoulder and bounced off. Then I was busy ducking and weaving as I fought to keep both men at bay. Rayne was right beside me, her movements fluid and precise as she landed blow after blow on one of the attackers, which almost seemed to bounce off the heavy-set man. Thankfully, she was quick and easily ducked whenever the guy reached for her.

Despite my best efforts, I knew I was losing. The men were bigger, stronger, and seemed to be fueled by a rage that knew no bounds.

I took blow after blow on my already bruised body and felt winded and unprepared. I was too concerned about Rayne’s safety to care about my own.

Hearing her grunt when the man landed a hit, I felt a surge of adrenaline coursing through my veins, dulling the pain and sharpening my focus.

Just as I laid out the one man that I’d been fighting, red and blue lights lit up the parking lot and suddenly we were surrounded by Madison County police. My heart sank as I realized what this meant—we were caught in the middle of a mess we hadn’t anticipated.