Chapter 1 - Tom
The billionaire's house looks like a fortress designed by someone with too much money and not enough sense. High walls. Security cameras on every corner. Windows that probably stop bullets. The kind of place that screams *I have enemies* or maybe just *I don't trust anyone*.
Richard Kane stands on his front porch, arms crossed, watching me with the expression of a man who's used to being the smartest person in every room. He's tall, dark-haired, mid-forties like me, but wearing it differently. Expensive clothes that probably cost more than my monthly salary. A watch that could buy my truck three times over.
"I appreciate you coming all the way out here, Sheriff," he says. "I know it's a bit of a drive."
A bit of a drive. The man built his house forty minutes outside of town, on a hill that overlooks everything like he's some kind of medieval lord surveying his kingdom. I had to navigate a private road with three security checkpoints just to get here.
"Part of the job," I say, keeping my voice neutral. "Welcome to Blackwater Falls, Mr. Kane."
"Richard, please." He gestures toward the front door. "Would you like to come in? I can have someone bring coffee."
Someone. Not him. Someone.
"I'm fine out here. Just wanted to introduce myself, let you know how things work around town." I shift my weight, feeling the familiar ache in my ribs where the shrapnel scars pull tight. Rain's coming. My body always knows before the clouds roll in. "Blackwater Falls is a small community. People look out for each other. If you need anything, my office is on Main Street. Direct line goes to my cell after hours."
Kane nods slowly, like he's filing away information for later use. "I've heard good things about you, Sheriff Harris. You served, didn't you? Fifteen years?"
The question catches me off guard. I don't advertise my military history. It's in my file somewhere, public record if someone wants to dig, but most people don't bother.
"That's right."
"Impressive. I always admire men who serve their country. Even more so when they continue serving in different ways. Small-town sheriff after military leadership, that's not an easy transition."
It wasn't. Still isn't, some days.
"Easier than I expected," I lie. "Quieter."
Kane smiles like he knows I'm not telling the truth. "I'm sure. Well, I won't keep you. I imagine you have more important things to do than welcome new residents."
"Everyone in Blackwater Falls is important, Mr. Kane. New residents included."
"Richard," he corrects again. "And I appreciate the sentiment. Truly. It's one of the reasons I chose this place. The sense of community."
I don't point out that building a fortress on a hill with private security doesn't exactly scream community spirit. Instead, I just nod and extend my hand.
His grip is firm but brief. Professional. "I'll be in touch if I need anything, Sheriff. And please, if there's ever anything I can do for the town, don't hesitate to ask."
The offer sounds genuine enough, but I've learned to be careful with men who have too much power. They usually want something in return, even if they don't say it right away.
"I'll keep that in mind."
I walk back to my truck, gravel crunching under my boots. One of the security guards, there are at least six that I've counted, nods at me as I pass. Former military, by the look of him. Kane's got a whole team of them. Whatever he's hiding from, or protecting, it's serious.
Not my problem. Not yet, anyway.
I climb into the truck and start the engine, pulling away from the fortress on the hill. The drive back to town takes me through the winding mountain roads I've grown to love over the past few years. Pine trees crowd both sides, their branches heavy and green. The sky is starting to gray at the edges, clouds rolling in from the west.
My ribs ache again. Definitely rain coming.
The radio crackles with the usual afternoon chatter. A Deputy checking in from the north side of town. Someone reporting a loose dog on Elm Street. Nothing urgent. Nothing that needs me specifically.
I should feel grateful for the quiet. When I first took this job, I thought it would be simple. Small town, friendly people, the occasional drunk driver or domestic dispute. A chance to protect without fighting. To serve without the weight of war on my shoulders.
Then the Savage Riders MC rolled through, and everything got complicated.
Took months to sort that mess out. The town was scared, suspicious. The MC had a reputation that preceded all clubs—violence, drugs, the kind of trouble that destroys small communities. But I saw something different in their leader. A man trying to change, trying to build something better. We found common ground eventually. Now they help keep the bad element out, and the town's learned to accept them.
