Hiding From The Sheriff (A Southern Kind of Love Book 1)

by Palmer Jones

  Hiding From The Sheriff

  Palmer Jones

  Sweet Blooms Publishing, LLC

  For M & A

  I don’t believe in the stereotype of the Southern gentleman. A man will open your door or give you his seat because of how he was raised, not where he was raised. A Southern gentleman is just a gentleman with a cute accent.

  Becky Gallagher, HIDING FROM THE SHERIFF

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Epilogue

  Also by Palmer Jones

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  1

  If the tiny Cook County jail in Nowhere, Florida offered Starbucks, Addison Johnson might not be in such a rush to leave the place. Despite her limited knowledge of prisons, this one appeared clean and very quiet. Peaceful even. No rats or rude cellmates named Big Linda like she’d imagined. Plus, it gave her enough isolation to think about turning around her hard life of crime.

  Addie picked at her manicured fingernails, her leg bouncing in restless frustration, like how she used to wait for a dial-up internet connection. Someone would have to come to release her soon. Grand theft auto was a serious charge that needed at least two hours’ worth of contemplation. Maybe three.

  She glanced at her watch and grimaced. Not ten, damn hours. No wonder her ass felt numb from sitting on the hard, metal bench. And for what? The charges were a mistake. If only she had her phone.

  Sending a picture of the cold, steel bars might make Brian pause in his luxury ski vacation long enough to bail her out. Maybe a simple call to straighten the whole thing out. Three years ago, he’d been a great addition to her cover story. A male model and aspiring actor that never tried to dig deeper into their relationship. Deep wasn’t an adjective she’d use to describe him.

  She enjoyed the shallowness of their relationship. It allowed her the chance to pursue her other activities, while he enjoyed having someone to put up with his crap and look pretty at events. Win-win.

  He never questioned how she supported herself on the modest salary of a perfume clerk at a high-end department store. One of them calling it quits was bound to happen sooner or later. Reporting her to the police that she’d stolen his car was a pretty extreme way to break-up with her.

  She crossed her arms and leaned back against the cool wall of her temporary cinder block home. Her brother had been right, another aspect of this inconvenient detour that nagged at her.

  He’d warned her that she’d end up in jail with all her secret activities. To her surprise, when she’d called him immediately after Brian didn’t answer the phone, Trevor hadn’t thrown a big, fat, “I told you so,” in her face.

  Yet.

  Instead, he’d been the perfect big brother and declared that he’d handle it. Sounded a little too much like a mafia move in her opinion, but she’d wait and see what he had in mind. Not like she had any other options at the moment.

  Most computer hackers stayed one step ahead of the law, and she was one of the best. She’d left her computer back in California. That made her itch more than the thought of spending the night on the cot in the corner with whatever might emerge when the lights went out.

  Voices traveled down the long hallway. No use in pretending her knight in shining armor had come to rescue her. She leaned away from the wall. Her brother couldn’t have made it from California yet, and her self-absorbed, almost ex-boyfriend was obviously more concerned about his career than her freedom.

  She wouldn’t rely on the men any longer.

  Her very survival was at stake.

  She’d do anything at this point.

  At precisely eleven hours since her last drink, they could add murder to her list of offenses if she didn’t get a Venti, Quad, Nonfat, One-pump, No-whip, Mocha soon. Lord help her, she’d take some of that stir-in, insta-coffee shit at this point. She twisted the bottom of her long, blonde hair through her fingers, a nervous habit that Brian hated. Well, Brian wasn’t in jail to witness it, was he?

  Bribing her guards for coffee or her freedom hadn’t worked so far. The last blue uniform she’d seen was a female who didn’t look too interested when Addie fluttered her lashes her way. No shame. Addie would flirt with a hamster if it’d buy her access to caffeine and the internet.

  Her mouth watered with the thought. Coffee was her lifeline. She assumed most computer hackers who lead double lives had something they relied upon when they interacted with the normal people who didn’t stay awake for days on end.

  Both voices sounded male. Good. She could handle men. They were the reason she’d developed her alter-ego. Addie sat up straight, adjusting her blouse for enough cleavage to show to distract most of the male race. There were two types of guys in the world. Those who saw her as their sister and those who never saw beyond the façade.

  A small snap of regret shot through her gut. No one ever saw the real Addie. Not since college. She shook away the lonely feeling. It was safer that way. She couldn’t risk exposing someone she cared about to the criminals she interacted with.

  The male in the blue uniform came into view, waddling toward her end of the cell as a toothpick stuck out between his lips. His gut somehow accentuated his receding hairline. His eyes were a little too close together, and his feet were too small in proportion to his round body.

  Or his body had outgrown his feet.

  Either way, he threw doubt on his ability as an effective cop to chase down a thief.

  Up close, he smelled like old Chinese take-out and cigars. Her stomach rolled in revulsion and hunger at the same time.

  On paper, he wasn’t exactly her type. More like her anti-type, if that was even a description for a man.

  She’d already weighed the pros and cons of a seduction-for-Starbucks routine with this particular blue uniform who currently picked his teeth with that nasty toothpick. Probably the same toothpick she’d seen when he’d arrested her. She schooled her features to keep the disgust inside.

  A tall guy with a neatly trimmed crew-cut followed the guard until they reached her end of the cells. She spotted a small sheriff’s badge pinned to the chest of his tan shirt. How many cops did the panhandle of Florida need to deal with her? As far as they knew, she spent her days pedaling luxury perfume, not stealing Mercedes for parts. But, as her eyes scanned over the new guy, with his deeply tanned skin, something familiar sparked her interest.

  He watched her with confusion, his eyes narrowing a touch.

  “Miss?” The blue uniform wiggled his grubby finger in her direction, grabbing her attention. It was a universal signal to ‘come here.' Her middle finger itched to respond with another universal signal that technically meant the opposite. That’d never win her any favors.

  She ran a hand over her hair. “Why, sweetie, I already told you my name is Addison Johnson.” Her sugary tone of voice sounded strained.

  Why didn’t anyone believe her? The first time she’d ever lost her wallet, including her driver’s license. Just lousy timing considering they arrested her for driving a reported stolen
vehicle. She was too fact-minded and didn’t believe in fate, so she chalked it up to bad luck.

  She smirked as she ran through the dozen or so things she could do to Brian’s online footprint to ruin his career for leaving her in this situation. Thinking of it as revenge made her sound petty. It was more along the lines with helping to teach him a little humility.

  The blue uniform arched his bushy eyebrow but didn’t correct himself or use her name.

  Addie clenched her hands together for restraint. Now, both middle fingers inched themselves up to the sky.

  Flirt. Smile. She’d done it dozens of times before. She’d perfected her cover over the past eight years.

  “I sure do hope you’ve come to set me free.”

  “Nope. Chief Deputy Dempsey has come to take you into custody,” the blue uniform called out, motioning to the man next to him.

  The newcomer’s eyes glinted in the late afternoon sunlight coming in through her small window. Even from this distance, she noted the unique moss green color. She’d seen that color once before.

  One summer, she’d used every waking minute sneaking glances at a boy with hypnotic green eyes. A color that she’d have killed for instead of the dull brown her parents had gifted her.

  Too bad the color didn’t do much to soften the incredibly pissed-off look he shot her way. That was a change. From confusion to anger. Why was he mad? She was the one behind bars. He at least had his freedom and unobstructed access to coffee.

  Addie smiled in a sexy way that always took Brian out of his foul moods. That was the only downfall to her choosing to date an actor. He seemed to have more mood swings than an adolescent girl.

  The blue uniform blushed and glanced away. One down.

  Chief Deputy Dempsey’s scowl darkened when she aimed her smile his direction. She tried to place his face. Had she seen him in L.A. at some point? She’d have to figure it out later. Right now, she had a role to play.

  She held her hands out as she glided toward him. “Am I your prisoner now?” It came so easily. That seductive voice that made most men respond. It glossed over the hard edges of her intelligence. Two extremes.

  “Somethin’ like that,” he said in a thick, Southern accent. He crossed his arms and added, “Addie.”

  Her smile faltered a moment. She hadn’t told anyone her nickname. With both men watching her, she went back to her act.

  She ran a hand through her hair, arching her back and tilting her head a little to the side. Brian always bragged he’d win an Oscar someday. She needed a flipping Oscar after her eight-year performance of trying to act like a sex kitten to throw people off her tracks. God, it was exhausting.

  The blue uniform shook his head and unlocked the door. “Good luck, Cameron.” The iron bars swung open wide. “She’s a handful.”

  She pursed her lips together and focused solely on her new guard. It seemed her luck had changed a little. If she had to flirt, she would rather flirt with the cute guy. “Can I call you Cameron?”

  Addie licked her bottom lip before catching it for a moment between her teeth.

  Bingo. That time a low, slightly annoyed, growl rumbled in his chest, complete with an eye roll. Okay. He wasn’t dead, just not interested. Didn’t matter. His bad mood didn’t change his status as a serious hottie. A little ironic that she stood there checking him out since she typically hid away from the law. Her lack of real affection for Brian provided her with guilt-free flirting. She’d never make a move, even being in a fake relationship, but she would definitely look. A lot.

  “Follow me.” Cameron turned and left her and the blue uniform staring at his broad back. She might have had reservations about a jailbreak seduction with the sweaty man motioning her forward, but those same reservations did not apply to Cameron. She paused by the blue uniform.

  “It’s been fun,” she murmured, tapping a finger on the edge of his shoulder. “Let’s see if I’ll have more fun with Cameron…”

  She dropped her hand. Cameron Dempsey?

  Her breath stalled in her lungs, and her head snapped back to Cameron’s retreating figure. It was him. The eyes. The body. The smooth bronze skin that highlighted his half Native American heritage. How had she not seen it right away?

  Oh. My.

  This time, she licked her lips to keep from drooling. The boy that’d hung around their house in California fifteen years ago had certainly grown up.

  He whirled around at the end of the hallway. “I’d prefer you call me Chief Deputy Dempsey.”

  Oh, that was him.

  She took three long, slow steps, her fingertips sliding from her thighs to rest on her hips. She was tall, but Cameron was taller. He tilted his head down, keeping his gaze locked with hers.

  Did he ever smile? He and her brother, Trevor, had laughed and cut up every day in the pool that summer while she’d remained invisible. She wasn’t invisible now.

  He’d turned into an uptight man. His strong, square chin clinched tighter as if refusing to acknowledge her flirty routine by sheer stubbornness.

  She chewed on her bottom lip.

  Cameron’s eyes tracked the movement. A rumble of unexpected nerves raced through her. Open attraction from men she could handle. But not from Cameron. Cameron was different.

  She’d been the pesky, annoying little sister. He’d been the star football player from Georgia who’d invaded their house for some elite camp. Now, most men saw her as nothing but tall, blonde, and boobs. No brains. Good for their ego. Men wouldn’t assume that girls like her had brains. At least not the type of skills Addie possessed.

  “Chief Deputy is a mouthful.” She tapped her nail on his badge. “Can I call you Deputy Cameron?”

  “No.”

  Slowly, she trailed her fingernail from the badge to the second button on his shirt. “What about D.D.?”

  “No.”

  Touching him seemed surreal as she drew her nail down to the next button. He didn’t move. Was he even breathing?

  “D-squared?” Pretending to flirt her way for some coffee suddenly shifted from a fake act to reality. Her pulse scattered with the desire for him to see her like the sexy woman she presented to the world, for him to want her the same way she wanted him before. Redemption for being such an ugly duckling.

  “No.”

  She ran her eyes down his body before meeting his gaze again. “The Big D?”

  With the use of his old football nickname, his lips stayed set in a stern line, but a flick of amusement in those green eyes gave her hope. “Not if you want me to answer to you.”

  Was Cameron part of her brother’s grand plan?

  “Well then, Cam,” she said, using the name she’d called him the one time she’d spoken to him and said goodbye. She slid her hands into her back pockets, leaning a little in his direction until their bodies almost touched. “Where are you taking me? Out for a nice dinner and drinks?”

  His lips spread into a humorless smile. “You can call me Cameron, and we’re going to Georgia. I already loaded your belongings into my truck.”

  “Do they typically transfer prisoners out of the state?” Not that she’d complain. The entertainment in this place made waiting in line at the DMV look like Disney World.

  “No, they don’t.” He turned on his heel and walked right out the front of the station. “You’re being released into my custody until your court date in two weeks.”

  Two weeks. She couldn’t even summons up something cute to say. Two weeks without her laptop. Or credit cards. By the time she got back to California, she would have been away from her computer for almost a month. Her employer wasn’t that patient. She had about two hundred dollars in cash shoved into her suitcase, but not enough to pay for a hotel for that long. Or buy a new laptop. And Trevor, in his big brother way, had already canceled her credit cards and had new ones sent to his house, promising that he’d work everything out.

  She jogged after Cameron across the mostly empty parking lot, her black, high-heeled boots making it somew
hat tricky as they crunched on the sandy gravel. An early January wind punctuated her freedom as it rushed over her face and whipped through her hair.

  “Why are they releasing me to you? What about my boyfriend’s car? They’ve impounded it. Why will it take two weeks? I didn’t steal anything, you know. I have no idea what happened to my wallet. Why doesn’t anyone believe me?” She forced her lips together, locking in her next seven questions.

  Rambling would give away how much sitting in jail had affected her. She didn’t care about the car or getting back to the perfume counter. She needed her laptop like she needed to breathe.

  Cameron stopped. He set his hands on his hips, still facing away from her. It was hard not to take a second and enjoy the view.

  What she’d thought was the same lean frame from high school turned out to be quite muscular. Not the big, bodybuilder type muscles like Brian but with defined muscles evident underneath Cameron’s shirt when he rolled his shoulders in annoyance.

  She’d watched him the same way at football camp the night he knocked a kid out for what he’d said to Trevor. The guy was a few inches taller than Cameron, but her teenage crush had laid him out in one fast punch. That was the second time that summer that Cameron had looked directly at her before he’d turned and walked away. And now her fighter was a cop.

  He spun around and took two steps. “Fine. One question at a time. What do you want to know?”

  Oh, the good-looks gods had kissed him thoroughly at birth. She closed the distance with a subtle sway to her hips. Grabbing a man’s attention when walking into a room came easily. She’d practiced it enough.