by Lisa Harris
“The diner’s invoices.” His face was hard, his eyes devoid of any kind of emotion. “Proof you’re hiding money in the receipts, showing the IRS all the money you’ve spent and written off as expenses.”
“To fund my lavish lifestyle?”
He’d been to her apartment. He knew what kind of car she drove. Exactly what was she doing with these ill-gotten gains? While she stared at him, pleading for him to see the truth, her heart was breaking. She would never let him see it, though. Hollis couldn’t ever, even for one second, let him in on how she felt.
If she did that, he would destroy her.
She’d really liked Phil. That was the worst of it.
While he’d been investigating her, Hollis hadn’t had the first inkling he wasn’t Phil Tilley, the guy she was seeing. He’d seemed so nice, and he’d been a perfect gentleman. Now she knew why. The FBI probably had rules about getting intimate with the suspect.
Meanwhile, Hollis had been getting to know him. Like a chump, she’d decided that though he was rough under that salesman veneer, she would fall for him. She’d actually liked that he wasn’t so clean cut. She’d thought that made them a good fit, considering her past.
Hollis would have let him in. They’d been heading to a place where she would have brought him into her life fully. She’d have told him everything. Heart. Breaking. Or would she have? Her suitcase was packed. Ready to leave and walk away from him. Maybe deep down she’d known he wasn’t telling her the truth.
That didn’t matter now.
Will had blown through all that attraction. He was going to stomp on it. Brand her a criminal. Now he was arresting her. She had to get Frankie back. She had to leave.
Maybe that had been instinct protecting her all along.
It could be, on some level, she’d known he wasn’t telling her everything. It would explain why she’d been preparing to walk away from him. A man she was attracted to and had thought was a good guy. That had to be it.
She’d known all along he wasn’t telling her the truth. It didn’t have anything to do with fear, or the fact she’d never let anyone else in. Hollis had simply known he was lying. Somehow.
He said, “You’re taking cash from someone and laundering it through your business. Am I right?”
He was so far from wrong, it wasn’t even funny. She opened her mouth to argue with him, but realized she didn’t even know where to start.
“Nothing to say, I see.” He kept staring at her with his injured face. He’d been beaten. Had they knocked a screw loose? Maybe there was a bleed in his brain, and it was causing him to think crazy thoughts when the truth was so obvious.
Still, his stare was unnerving. “No explanation.” He glanced at his phone, then turned to Conroy. “My boss said to bring her in, along with the evidence.”
A muscle jumped in Conroy’s cheek.
“You’re not going to say anything?” Hollis glanced around. “He’s arresting me for being West. This is insane!”
“Let’s go.” Will picked up her purse and walked it back to retrieve the flash drive.
“Don’t touch my things.” Suddenly, she didn’t want him touching any of her personal belongings. “Give me my purse. You don’t get to touch my purse.”
“So you can pull out a weapon, attack me, and escape?”
Kaylee gasped.
Hollis wanted to tell her everything was fine. But how could she? He really thought she had it in her to hurt him when he was already all banged up from those men at the office? Was that even real? She hadn’t seen anyone leaving. Maybe he’d made all that up. Set the fire himself.
Before she could demand an explanation, Will said, “Conroy?”
The police chief retrieved a brown paper evidence bag and placed her purse inside, right before he rolled the top down and handed it to her.
She said, “Please don’t do this.”
Conroy didn’t respond.
Will said nothing. He just took her arm and led her away from the police chief. She glanced back over her shoulder. They all just stood there.
Not one of them said anything in her defense.
The truth would come out, right? Right. Not with her track record. She was more likely to get convicted. It was better to face the facts—she was going to go to jail. The kidnappers would realize she hadn’t done anything for them, and they would kill her. Hollis moaned. “Frankie.”
Conroy said, “What about him?”
“You need to help Frankie.”
She wanted to say more, but just then it occurred to her. The flash drive. That was where Will was getting his evidence. The files they wanted her to transfer to her office computer were ones that incriminated her as West. They’d wanted the evidence planted on her computer hard drive. Someone wanted her to take the fall as West and go to jail.
Will dragged her as far as the front door. She glanced back once and saw Kaylee crying. Conroy still standing there. The rest of them, staring.
They didn’t even stop him.
Then she stumbled out, tugged along by an insistent Will and his long stride. A whimper escaped her lips, and the front door shut her off from the very people who were supposed to help the residents of Last Chance. The ones who should fight for the truth, and for justice.
And they just stood there.
Hollis was alone.
“Don’t bother crying. It won’t help you.” He unlocked his car and loaded her into the front seat, depositing the brown paper bag in the back. She sat, stoic and silent, while he turned the engine on and pulled out. “I won’t be swayed by your tears.”
She could hardly believe this was happening. He was bound and determined to catch West, to such an extent that he was steamrolling right over her and her feelings. Crushing her heart in his wake as he raced toward a conviction. Was he really so determined to close this case? Probably so he could leave Last Chance and get away from her for good.
She didn’t need a guy like that doing her any favors. The same way she’d never needed her mom to do her any, either. It was just further proof that everyone was only in this thing—life—for themselves. Everyone was the star in their own show, and people just trampled on others whenever they wanted to.
Which meant that if she was going to get out of this, it was going to be because she saved herself. No one else was going to help her.
She would have to tell the truth. But only in the right way, at the right time, to the right people. That was how the world worked. Honesty got you nowhere. She had to make a plan and be smart about this. Everyone knew trusting in the justice system got you convicted of a crime you didn’t commit. Just another statistic of some over-zealous civil servant trying to make their quota, so they didn’t lose their job.
Hollis squeezed her eyes shut. People like her never saw real justice.
That was why she had to figure this out. There were so many things she’d never told anyone, and had never planned to—until Phil. Now she’d have to work out what to say. About the past. Her mom. Frankie.
They really thought she was West?
Hollis would have to explain everything instead of leaving and starting over. Phil…that whole thing had been unexpected and way too tempting. Honestly, it was better to be done with it—with him—just as she’d planned. Not that finding out he was a liar was for the best. But she didn’t have to worry about whether life would give her anything good. It wouldn’t. Letting that hope finally die was for the best.
Now she knew his truth. Phil didn’t even exist.
Hollis lifted her shoulder and wiped her cheekbone before the tear could fall.
“Why would you do this?” His voice was hard. He didn’t sound hurt. On the contrast, her entire world was shattering.
Frankie would be dead, because she hadn’t done what the kidnappers wanted.
She would be in jail.
He said, “You’re a business owner. And yet you’re caught up in money laundering? I don’t get it, Hollis. I thought you were a good person.�
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She shifted in her seat so she could face him more fully. He really thought she was going to have a conversation with him right now. With her in cuffs. That they’d…what…chat on the way to his office? As if. Maybe he hoped she’d come clean to him, and he would be able to gloss over the part where he had arrested her to prove what he thought was true. No real proof. No benefit of the doubt.
Like finding proof would be possible when it was nothing but a fabrication.
She said, “I have no interest in speaking to you, so don’t bother asking me any questions. When we get to your office, I’m going to be calling my lawyer. After that, I’m happy to speak to your boss. Not you.”
She twisted back and stared out the side window.
As she’d told him to his face—the liar—Hollis had no interest in speaking with him. A man who would pretend to be attracted to her. She should’ve known. She’d thought he was sweet, but did she really think he would be attracted to a woman who looked like her? Obviously, it was all deception.
Her mom was right. She could never attract a man, let alone one who was an FBI agent. FBI agents were supposed to be good people. The heroic kind who protected the innocent and worked to see justice. Will didn’t fit that mold. Then again, he did work as an undercover. That was all a lie, right? Maybe he wasn’t the regular kind of FBI agent. More like a renegade.
Or he was a bad guy. He might even work for West, himself. This could all be misdirection. A way to solidify everyone’s conclusion that she was the local crime lord. That was laughable, but it could be part of their plan.
What if the kidnappers did this all along? What if they’d worked it out so that she ended up with the flash drive, arrested? Maybe this was how it was supposed to go down. Frankie was leverage, and Hollis went down as West. She’d tried to do her part, and Will had improvised.
Was Will really working with West? The idea descended on her like a cold breeze. Hollis shivered in her seat.
Maybe he wasn’t taking her to the FBI.
He could be taking her to West.
She gasped a split second before the world spun. Too late, Hollis realized a car had slammed into the back of Will’s, on the side where she was sitting.
His car spun around in the road.
Hollis screamed. Even Will cried out. The car spun off the road and dipped down in a way that made her want to hurl. Before she could figure out how bad the situation might be, they were falling.
Falling.
Down.
The car slammed into something, and the world went black.
Chapter Eight
Will’s chest hurt. even breathing hurt. like he’d been hit by—
He wheezed, trying to get air. Something was in his face. He batted it away, then realized it was a hand. Will was on his left side, smashed against the window. The whole car was on its side. Hollis.
He turned to look…up…at the passenger seat, while his brain tried to amass thoughts on what must’ve happened.
He choked out a moan. “Hollis.”
She was suspended above him. While he assessed her position to figure out how to get both of them out, a drop of blood splatted down upon his cheek. Will wiped it away. “Hollis.”
He pressed his lips together. It was probably better that she didn’t regain consciousness right now. Better that he get her out of the car first.
The windshield was completely shattered. He lifted his leg, got his foot up above the dash and kicked the glass the rest of the way out, then scrambled upright. That put his face right by hers.
“Hollis.” He whispered her name, pressing two fingers to her neck. Just in case. He felt the thump of her heart beating and there were no words to describe the way that tightness in his chest eased. Don’t leave me.
It still hurt every time he breathed. Whiplash? Maybe. He’d been in car accidents before, and it always hurt more a day or two later. The next few days wouldn’t be so fun.
Will unsnapped her seatbelt, and she tumbled down onto his lap. With his backside, he landed on the door handle with a wince, and for a second just sat there, feeling her in his arms. Will buried his face in her hair and inhaled. Not that he wanted to smell her. That would be weird. But in that second, he just needed to acknowledge—if only to himself—that they were both alive.
“Hollis.”
She stirred in his arms, a low mewing sound that didn’t seem right emitting from her. He shifted her and saw her hands were still cuffed. She moved one, the other stiff and awkward, like she was trying to hold it.
Will dug in his pocket for the cuff keys and set her free. He touched her cradled arm gently. Hollis let out a low moan, so he tucked it to her stomach which seemed to be better for her.
They had to get out of here.
He looked around for his phone, and then set Hollis down where he’d been sitting against the driver’s door. She was still mostly unconscious. He should pull her out and lay her on the grass so when help got here, they could get to her more quickly.
He should call Dean.
No, Dean was busy these days. Calling 911 would suffice, and he had faith they’d definitely send the former Navy SEAL and unofficial town EMT, if he was closest. No one wasted resources in Last Chance.
Problem was, he couldn’t find his phone.
Will climbed out to look around, palming his gun from the holster on his hip. But there was no holster. Actually, he hadn’t seen his gun since he’d been knocked unconscious at the diner.
Not good. Did he have a concussion? He thought maybe he couldn’t all the way think straight.
The car was flipped on its side in the ditch. The back, right quarter panel completely busted, tire shredded. The roof would be barely visible from the street.
He checked the area around the car. His wasn’t the only phone, but Hollis’s cell was in her purse—which she’d told him he couldn’t get into. Were these extenuating circumstances? He didn’t know how she’d feel about him rummaging through her purse, considering he’d cuffed her and was hauling her to the FBI only moments before.
“Will?”
It took him a second to absorb that she had been calling for him by his real name—and not by his moniker, Phil—before he moved back to the open window where he’d kicked out the windshield.
He crouched. “Hollis?”
She blinked, her gaze coming to focus on him. Then she shifted her arms and winced, crying out. “My arm really hurts.” The one he’d noticed earlier. Now she held it against her.
He nodded, that sinking feeling rising. His cuffs had caused that. The same way his inattention had caused this crash.
“What happened?”
He was still looking around for his phone, but said, “A truck clipped the rear side of the car, and we spun off the road.”
She took a breath and winced.
“Can you move?”
She nodded.
“I’m trying to find my phone.”
“Where’s mine?” Her voice sounded small and pained.
“Don’t look for it. I’ll see if I can get to the backseat.” He climbed back for the evidence bag. “Is it okay if I go in there?” She’d seemed averse to it before. Out of pride, or because she had something to hide?
“Will.”
He shifted back so she’d be able to see his face. “Yeah?”
She pressed her lips together.
Will gave her shoulder a squeeze. The animosity was gone now. He didn’t think she was innocent, but no one could fake anything right now. Even the best actor or actress would struggle through the pain and shock she felt. He needed to be cautious, but he also had to make sure she didn’t have some kind of medical turn for the worse. Will knew the signs of serious problems, but had no training beyond basic field medicine.
“It’s not turning on.” Her phone was a different model than his, but they weren’t so different he didn’t know how to start it up. “Could it be dead?”
She pushed out a breath. “Maybe. The battery i
sn’t good. I should’ve replaced it.” She didn’t say more, and he saw her take a few long breaths.
She hadn’t just spent the money to buy herself a new phone? Will watched her breathe. “You okay?”
“Other than wanting to hurl all over my lap, I feel like I got hit by a truck.”
“We did.” He wasn’t going to sugar-coat it. Will should’ve realized, before they were struck, what was happening, but he hadn’t. He’d failed. Now they were both bruised, and he needed to figure out a way to get aid to them. Or get them back to civilization.
“Help me out.”
Will nodded, climbed out, and reached back to assist her as she fumbled her way out. She straightened, and he didn’t let go of her elbow. Will had to resist the strong urge to gather her to him and give her a hug.
Meanwhile, she eyed him. “Why are you being so nice?”
Why would he not? “We were in a car accident together.”
“Yeah, after you arrested me.”
“If you hadn’t done anything criminal, I wouldn’t have.”
“You have no idea what I’ve done and what I haven’t.” She moved out of reach and began to take careful steps around the car. There wasn’t much room to move. Hollis went to the trunk end of the car, bent double, and deposited the contents of her stomach into the weeds.
“You okay?” He climbed the embankment. Not too many cars on the road, he heard the sound of an engine intermittently.
She made a noncommittal sound, and he replied with, “I’ll flag someone down, then help you up.”
Together they could hobble to a vehicle and hopefully get a ride into town. His foot slipped on the damp ground, and he slid back down, turning as he went, so that his feet hit the bottom of the embankment. He was sitting down right where he started. Will blew out a breath.
Hollis was smiling at him. “Good one.”
He figured that wasn’t about her being impressed. More like amused by his attempt to climb. “Sit down or something, yeah?”
“Did you bring my purse out of the car?”
“No.” He groaned. “I’ll get it, but I really want to flag someone down.”
“Well, I need a mint to get the taste of puke out of my mouth.”