Sovereign Sheriff

by Cassie Miles

  “COIN.” He used the acronym. “The Coalition of Island Nations.”

  “Yes, COIN owns extensive oil resources. We have enemies, including the Russian mob, who would do anything to gain control of our wealth.”

  “And these dangerous people could come after you.”

  “Not me,” she said. “As a woman, I have no power in Jamala. The leadership of the country would never pass to me. It’s my destiny to be forever a princess. Never a true leader.”

  He heard an edge of bitterness in her voice. There was something fascinating about her, but he couldn’t allow himself to get tangled in her web. “For tonight, you have a choice. Either you can go to the resort, or I can turn you over to the FBI for protective custody.”

  She waved her manicured hands in front of her face. Her fingernails had purple tips. “I can’t be in custody. I have to be free to investigate.”

  “Then it’s the resort.” He walked toward the house. “Let me get my keys, and I’ll follow you in my car to make sure you get there safely. Tomorrow, you can call me for an up date.”

  “If you won’t help, I’ll pursue my own investigation.”

  That had to be one of the worst ideas he’d ever heard. He couldn’t imagine Saida flouncing through the streets of Dumont and asking questions. She’d stand out like a giraffe in a herd of prairie dogs.

  Before he could object, she went to her car, started the engine and backed away from the porch.

  He ran inside and grabbed his keys from the table by the door. Maggie glared at him. “What did you say to her? Why did you chase her off?”

  “Because that woman is trouble.”

  “Lone wolf,” she snapped. “You and Saida would make a really cute couple.”

  He couldn’t believe she was playing matchmaker. “Trust me, Maggie. If I ever settle down, it won’t be with a high-maintenance princess. No matter how pretty she is.”

  His sister beamed. “You think she’s pretty?”

  “She’s not for me.”

  When he stepped outside onto the porch, he saw the taillights of a truck on the two-lane road beyond his driveway. A black sedan followed. Both were driving fast, and they seemed to be in formation—in pursuit of the princess.

  Chapter Two

  Angrier than she should have been, Saida glared through the windshield of the pitiful little rental car that had awaited her private jet at the Dumont airfield. She’d asked for an SUV, a vehicle with some muscle. But no! The Minister of Affairs in Jamala had made her travel arrangements, and Nasim thought big cars were un-princesslike. This silly little compact was his way of showing her who was the boss.

  This time the joke was on Nasim. His insistence that she fly private rather than commercial allowed her to pack both of her handguns. If a firefight was necessary to rescue her brother, she wouldn’t hesitate. All she needed was one person in her corner—a contact inside the investigation who could point her in the right direction. She had hoped that ally would be Jake Wolf, but she’d blown it with the sheriff.

  When it came to personal negotiations, especially with men, she usually got what she wanted. She’d played the princess card and failed to impress him. Then she’d attempted to flirt. Catastrophe! Why, oh, why, had she made that silly comment about the Navajo turquoise jewelry? Playing dumb wasn’t going to cut it with Jake. She should have known better.

  Her internet research led her to surmise that Jake Wolf was incorruptible and unlikely to be swayed by bribes from those who had attacked her brother. She expected him to be a serious, responsible man.

  What surprised her was his stunning physical presence. The internet photos hadn’t done him justice. His eyes held the depth and fire of black diamonds. His square jaw was perfectly balanced by a high forehead and strong cheekbones. And that body? When she saw him shirtless with his jeans slung low on his hips, he had taken her breath away. His lean torso, hard muscles and smooth bronzed skin had almost made her forget why she’d come to this desolate place.

  She inhaled a breath and exhaled slowly through her nostrils. Anger was futile. Instead, she needed to be calm and controlled. She needed a plan.

  Though she’d programmed the location of the very exclusive, very posh Wind River Ranch and Resort into the GPS navigator in her rental car, she still wasn’t sure if she should go there. The COIN royals wouldn’t be happy to see her. Sheik Efraim Aziz, her brother’s best friend, had been adamant about keeping her away. Too bad, Efraim.

  It was time they all realized that she wasn’t a child anymore. True, she’d made her share of mistakes. Her reputation as a socialite who paraded down red carpets and danced until dawn at trendy L.A. clubs was somewhat deserved. But she had also graduated from UCLA, and she’d earned top grades in her first year of law school. If given a chance, she’d prove that she could contribute to the welfare of COIN.

  And she could help in the search for her brother.

  The car’s GPS navigational system said, “In two-point-four miles, turn left.”

  In her rearview mirror, she noticed headlights approaching. Though it was difficult to make out any details on this unlit road, the vehicle behind her appeared to be a truck and it was coming too fast. Inappropriate driving; this asphalt road wasn’t the Swiss autobahn. Instinctively, she pressed down on the accelerator, hoping to make it to her turn before the truck caught up and caused her to crash.

  Was this a drunk driver? Or a teenager out for a joyride? Saida was aware of the darker possibility. As a princess, she lived with the constant threat of being kidnapped for a royal ransom and had been trained in marksmanship, hand-to-hand combat and evasive driving techniques.

  The headlights were on her tail. She was going fifty-eight miles per hour—an unsafe speed for making a ninety-degree turn on a narrow road.

  “Turn left in one hundred feet,” the GPS said.

  Saida saw the stop sign and the intersection. She tapped the brake, hoping the truck behind her would slow down. No such luck. Its front bumper kissed the back of her car hard enough to give her a jolt. The driver wasn’t following her by coincidence. He was pursuing her.

  “Turn left now,” said the GPS.

  She cranked the steering wheel and swerved. Her lightweight rental car fishtailed wildly. Centrifugal force threatened to flip her car into a death roll. She maintained balance, controlled the turn and leveled out on a straightaway.

  “In one-point-three miles, turn right.”

  The truck was still behind her. Even worse, another set of headlights appeared in the lane beside it and quickly pulled forward. If the second car got ahead of her, she’d be trapped between them.

  She tromped on the accelerator. Seventy miles per hour. Seventy-five. Eighty. Going over a ridge, her vehicle was airborne. The car landed with a crash that stressed the shock absorbers.

  “Turn right,” the GPS said.

  But she couldn’t. It would be suicide to take the turn at this speed. The second vehicle—a dark sedan—remained in the lane for oncoming traffic. He pulled even with her rear fender.

  The GPS system scolded, “You missed the turn.”

  “Shut up!”

  Her training told her to hit the gas and zip into the other lane to block the second car, but she didn’t have the horsepower to pull ahead. Panic flashed inside her head. Think, Saida.

  In the backseat were two of the six suitcases she’d packed for this trip. Even if she could dig into the suitcase and reach her handguns, it wouldn’t do much good. Her weapons weren’t loaded.

  The sedan passed her. Once it was in front of her, the driver slowed his speed. She was hemmed in with no room to maneuver, nowhere else to go. Beyond the shoulder of this road was a strip of land and a barbed-wire fence.

  The truck pulled into the lane beside her. She lifted her foot from the accelerator and slowed. The truck matched her speed.

  Before she felt the impact, she heard the grinding of metal against metal. He was forcing her off the road. Her tires crashed raggedly on the gra
vel shoulder.

  Her foot jammed down hard on the brake.

  The truck shot past her.

  Her brake rotors screeched. She went into a skid.

  The air bag exploded, blinding her and forcing her hands off the steering wheel. Her tires bounced off the road and over a ditch, throwing her car off balance. Before she tipped over, the car came to a full stop.

  It was a miracle that she hadn’t flipped over, that she didn’t seem to be injured. Frantically, she batted at the air bag. Her fingers struggled to unfasten the seat belt. She had to run, had to get out of this car before her pursuers grabbed her.

  The wail of a police siren cut through the air.

  The bag deflated enough that she could see through the window. The taillights of the truck were zooming away from her. The other car had disappeared. They’d given up.

  Adrenaline surged through her veins. She could have been killed, could have been kidnapped. Why was this happening? The inside of her head whirled in a dizzying tornado, and she gripped the wheel to stabilize herself.

  The siren came closer, and she saw the flashing red and blue lights of a police vehicle.

  Jake appeared outside her car window. He yanked on her door handle until it opened. “Saida, are you all right?”

  Unable to speak, she could only nod.

  When he touched her shoulder, she flinched. Every muscle in her body screamed with tension.

  “You’re going to be okay,” he said. “Let go of the wheel.”

  She pried her fingers loose. Darkness pressed against her peripheral vision. She shook herself, fighting for control. I won’t pass out. The idea of fainting into Jake’s strong arms held a certain appeal, but she didn’t want to show weakness. She wanted him to think of her as an equal.

  Clearly, she said, “You got here just in time.”

  “Let’s get you out of here.” He took her hand to help her from the car. “We need to hurry. In case they come back.”

  That possibility was enough to get her moving. She lurched from her car and stood on shaky legs.

  The lights from his vehicle showed the damage to her rental car. The trunk and rear bumper were caved in. A scrape gashed into the back door. It was sobering to see how close she’d come to disaster, but she couldn’t allow herself to sink into helpless terror.

  “Wait.” She balked. “My luggage.”

  “I’ll have someone come back for it.”

  “At least, I need my purse.” She leaned into her wrecked car and reached across the driver’s seat to grab her purse. Her gaze slid toward the matched burgundy leather suitcases behind the front seat; she wanted her guns. “Can I get my luggage?”

  “Forget it.”

  “We can leave the other bags in the trunk.” With the rear end crushed in, it would take the Jaws of Life to retrieve those suitcases. “But I need that one.”

  “Why?”

  It probably wouldn’t be wise to tell him that she’d brought a couple of Berettas. Facing him, she drew up her shoulders and said, “I’ve got to have my makeup.”

  Without another word, he scooped her off her feet and threw her over his shoulder, carrying her like a sack of potatoes.

  Upside down, she was shocked by his manhandling. Saida was a princess, after all. His arm pinned her legs so she couldn’t kick. Her arms flailed wildly. With her purse, she whacked his butt. “Put me down.”

  “This is for your own good.”

  She’d heard those words before—many, many times before, and the statement never failed to infuriate her. For my own good? Really?

  At his SUV, Jake dropped her to the ground, opened the passenger-side door and shoved her inside. While he circled around to the driver’s side, she debated whether she should fling open the door, run to her car and grab her guns. Why had she thought Jake would be different? He was just like every other man in her life who wanted her to be a good girl and do as she was told.

  The fear that threatened to swamp her consciousness was replaced by anger. It wasn’t her fault that she’d been attacked. Given the circumstances, she’d handled herself well.

  Jake slid behind the steering wheel. “Seat belt,” he said.

  Though outraged, she snapped the belt. “Apologize.”

  For an instant, his gaze locked with hers. “I won’t say I’m sorry for saving your life.”

  He swung the SUV in a U-turn. Instead of using the police dispatch radio on the console, he took out his hands-free cell phone and made a call.

  “Where are we going?” she demanded. “What are you doing?”

  Ignoring her questions, he continued with his call. It seemed that he was giving someone directions to find her car.

  “My luggage,” she said. “Have them bring my luggage.”

  Jake lobbed a hostile glance in her direction and said to the person on the phone. “There are a couple of suitcases in the back. Bring them.”

  “There are other bags in the trunk,” she said.

  “How many?”

  “Two in the back, four in the trunk, that’s six altogether.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Exactly how long were you planning to stay in Wyoming?”

  “There’s a certain standard of dress required of someone in my position. I can’t throw on a pair of sweatpants and go waltzing out the door. I don’t expect you to understand. Most men don’t.”

  As he returned to his phone call, she sank back against the seat. If she told Jake that the reason she wanted her luggage wasn’t just vanity, would it make a difference? Would he take her more seriously if he knew she’d come to Wyoming armed? Or would he insist on pushing her around? For her own good.

  Jake ended his phone call and turned toward her. “I have to ask you some questions about what happened.”

  His tone was brisk and businesslike. The balance of power between them was all wrong. He was completely in charge, and that needed to change.

  She grasped for control. “Tell me where we’re going?”

  “For now, we’re headed back to my place.”

  Though her initial intention had been to link up with him, his choice of destination seemed odd. She’d been the victim of vehicular assault; a crime had been committed. “Shouldn’t we be going to the police station?”

  Instead of answering, he asked, “Can you describe the vehicles?”

  “One was a truck. Not one of those huge heavy-duty monster trucks with big wheels. Just a pickup. It seemed kind of old, and I think it was black or dark gray.”

  “What made you think it was an older model?”

  “It wasn’t shiny. It looked used.” She wished she’d been more observant. “I didn’t get a license plate. And I’m not good at identifying make and model.”

  “What about the other vehicle?”

  “A black sedan. A four-door.” She shook her head. If it had been a Lamborghini or a Bugatti, she could have told him more. Most other cars looked the same. “It was similar to my rental car. Maybe it had tinted windows.”

  “It did,” he said. “I only caught a glimpse of the truck when it came past my house, but I saw the sedan pretty clearly. They were driving in formation. It appeared to be an organized assault.”

  “They were working together. The sedan pulled in front. The truck tried to force me off the road.”

  The explanation sounded so bland—nothing at all like the harrowing reality of the chase. She called upon the regal poise that had been drummed into her since childhood to stay in control.

  He asked, “Who knew you were coming to Wyoming?”

  Though she hadn’t informed anyone in the royal entourage, she hadn’t made a secret of her plans. “The Minister of Affairs made my travel arrangements and reservations. I’m not sure if he talked to anyone else.”

  “Do you trust him?”

  “Totally.” She’d known Nasim all her life. “He’d never betray me.”

  “Someone did,” he said. “Those cars were waiting for you. They knew you were coming.”

&n
bsp; They were approaching Jake’s house. Again, she wondered, why had he brought her here instead of the police station? As part of a class in law enforcement, she’d been on a ride along; she knew he wasn’t following standard police protocol. “You haven’t turned on the police siren or the lights.”

  “That’s right.”

  She pointed to the console on his dashboard. “When you contacted the person who would go to my car, you used your hands-free phone instead of calling your dispatcher.”

  “Right again.”

  She remembered what she’d read about him on the internet. Much of his campaign for sheriff had been based on a promise to clean up the corruption that had infected law enforcement in Wind River County. “Why are you avoiding the regular channels?”

  “Here’s what I think. The person who came after you in that truck is a local.” He pulled up to the edge of the basketball court to park. “Until I find him, I’m only going to work with people I can count on. While you’re here, I’d advise you to do the same.”

  She got the message.

  There was no one she could trust.

  And someone wanted to kill her.

  Chapter Three

  Whether he liked it or not, Jake was stuck with the princess. He couldn’t hand her over to any other law enforcement agencies, not while he suspected corruption. Nor did he trust the hotel security at the Wind River Ranch and Resort. And the bodyguards for the royal entourage had the stink of traitor about them.

  He escorted Saida to the safest room in his house—the guest bedroom on the second floor. Unlike his and Maggie’s bedrooms, there was only one small window.

  Keeping her here at his house wasn’t a long-term solution. Not only did he have too many responsibilities as sheriff to act as her full-time bodyguard, but his home wasn’t a fortress. Yeah, he had a security system that sounded an alarm if somebody tried to break in. But there was no defense against long-range rifles and snipers. Had the men who chased Saida wanted to kill her or to kidnap her? He suspected the latter. If their intent was murder, there were more effective methods than vehicular homicide.