Time Bomb: On The Run Romance (Indecent Book 1)

by Madi Le

  Misty knew exactly what she was hearing, because it was what she'd been afraid she would hear first thing. They didn't know everything; that wouldn't have been productive. No, she was a domestic terrorist. Or she was a murder suspect. Or maybe they pegged her for the things that she was actually responsible for, but they pretended that there was no rhyme or reason to it beyond her love of mayhem and death.

  She leaned back in the seat and took a deep breath through her nose and waited for the rest of the speech to come. For him to tell her that he was going to turn her in. It wasn't like Misty could blame him. But the car remained silent.

  "So what, then?"

  "I don't know."

  "You can't override him?"

  "What?"

  "You can't override the mayor?"

  "Why would I be able to do that?"

  "You're the county Sheriff," Misty said.

  "Why would I want to do that, even if I could?"

  She let her eyes fall to her lap. She felt like someone had let all the air out of her balloon. It wasn't a feeling that she relished. But it was the feeling that she had, and there was no getting around it now, not without figuring out what to do next. And she was afraid to ask the question.

  "So... you're going to turn me in?" It felt like being stabbed, just letting the words out of her mouth. But she needed to know.

  "I didn't say that," Grant said. "You're not telling me everything. Maybe you're not telling me anything. But once upon a time, I cared for a woman who looked a lot like you. And for her sake, I'm going to do what I can."

  "What happened?"

  "Don't ask," Grant said.

  The tone of his voice wasn't hard or angry. But there was something else there. If Misty didn't know any better she might have guessed that he was in some kind of pain. That he was upset by something. She let out a breath and looked over at him. He didn't seem any different than he had been before.

  "So what's the next move then?"

  "The next move is that I go back to the station. I don't know if I can override a mayor. I certainly can't take control of city property without his express go-ahead, no matter how much I am the Sheriff and therefor could, I don't know, arrest him if the warrant came through."

  "And then what? They're going through official channels."

  "That's right," Grant said. "They're going through official channels."

  "Then if they come to get me, while I'm 'in protective custody,' then…"

  "I'd be legally required to give you up, if the paperwork was all in order. I'm a Sheriff, so I can override a little bit. But I don't get to declare that we don't extradite to the Federal government. I could fight them off, maybe, for a little while, but it wouldn't do much good. I'd just get arrested, and unlike the situation you claim that you've got, where you didn't actually do anything, I would have pretty much openly defied a Federal order. I'd be a sitting duck."

  "So you're going to turn me in?"

  Grant pursed his lips. "I didn't say that. I told you already, I used to care a lot about what happened to Misty Glenn. And I'm not going to let her get hurt just because a few years passed."

  Misty went quiet. She was unsure of what their relationship had been, before. Some inkling in the back of her mind had hinted that there might have been some kind of romance. Maybe puppy-love. Sometimes that read was wrong. It had happened more than once since her memories had gone away.

  This was the first time that she'd read it wrong because she hadn't realized how much it had meant. She was right that there was a relationship, but she was wrong that it was just some youthful indiscretion. As far as Grant Holloway seemed to be concerned, it was his great love, and he was willing to do what it took.

  Her mind immediately leapt into action. There was a lot that a woman with Misty's skillset could do with a man like that. She knew that she could manipulate him, if she worked at it. Because she knew that she had strings on him. But she found herself not wanting to pull them. There was something pure about the Sheriff's affection for her, something she didn't want to tarnish. It didn't hurt that he seemed to mentally separate his version of her from the past with the woman sitting beside him now.

  At least, he made a good show of it, if he didn't.

  "It's late," Misty said. The side of the road had a motel. She was tired, but she was always tired. She had something else on her mind. "You want to turn in?"

  Grant looked at her. She nodded towards the motel. He looked at it. Then he looked back at her. She could see the gears turning in his head. She knew how to be subtle, when she wanted to be. Misty had no interest in being subtle at that moment.

  Her skillset included seducing men, and sometimes the direct approach was the best one. She didn't need to get them into bed to get what she wanted, of course. It only took the hint, the promise, the suggestion. And sometimes the act itself was a cherry on top. All of that ran through her head, a reflex that she couldn't have turned off if she wanted to.

  But she wasn't concerned with trying to seal his assistance. She wasn't thinking about how she could use him. She was thinking that she wanted into that shell of his. She wanted him to think of her like he thought of the woman who had disappeared somewhere along the way. She wanted to know who he was. Who he thought she was. Who he'd seen in that instant of recognition, in the station.

  He turned away from her and put his eyes back on the road. He didn't tell her that he wasn't going for it. He didn't have to. His answer was as clear as day, and as much as she hated to admit it, nearly as painful.

  She could have him, if she wanted him. She could get him believing the whole routine. It might be a challenge, because he knew, or thought he knew, what she was up to. It wouldn't be enough to stop her. It never had in the past, and it wouldn't be now.

  But she didn't want to work for it. She wanted it to come naturally. She hated that, because it was about the least convenient possible thing in her life right now. In a world where she was being chased by the whole damn U.S. government, she just wanted to be able to give herself a break and let someone in for once. To get inside someone's defenses and live there. In a comfortable little world where people weren't trying to hurt each other all the time.

  Then again, something had made her leave. Maybe the Sheriff wasn't everything that he was cracked up to be. Or maybe she was the one who'd hurt him. The grass isn't always greener on the other side.

  The Sheriff turned. Misty wondered how long she'd been lost in thought, and how much further it would be. The trees cleared on the sides of the road, though, and she got her answer when they pulled up in front of the Sheriff's station.

  And then she got another answer, to a question she hadn't asked. Because sitting out front of the station was a blue sedan with the nose crumpled. Misty wanted to scream. But she kept herself calm. They'd get out of this somehow. They had to. Because otherwise, she was dead.

  Five ♥

  *

  There was a momentary thought, in the back of his mind, that he could just walk away from all of this. It would just… go away. He wasn't sure how he thought that was going to work, of course. There was simply no way. Whatever was happening, they'd track him down. Precisely the same way that he would track anyone else down to ran off.

  And for that matter, he was the Sheriff of Franklin county. He wasn't some thief slinking around in the night, trying to hide from the world. If there was anything he could do, it was deal with someone who had tried to kill him in the lobby of his own station.

  So in spite of Misty's pleading, he slipped out of the driver's seat, straightened his hat, and walked inside as if there was nothing wrong. In hindsight, he would reflect, that was probably the biggest mistake that he made, because it was the only one that wouldn't have hurt to simply not make it.

  Grant's expression was fixed in studied neutrality as he stepped in through the door. There was an explanation for all of this, he knew; it was just a matter of finding out what it was. For all that he knew, the sinking feeling in his g
ut was completely wrong. The driver had come to the station to turn himself in, and admit that he'd been involved in a hit-and-run.

  The mood in the station immediately dispelled any hopes he might have continued to hold out on, though. All eyes turned to him. They knew him, and they knew that whatever the accusation was, Grant wasn't a man who went off the deep end. At least, not typically.

  There was just enough doubt in their minds, though, that they weren't about to go off. He guessed the story that they'd been fed before anyone in the room managed to speak a word. It didn't make him feel any better to know that his dash-cam would paint a slightly different picture.

  If their goal was grabbing Misty, then they didn't need a lot of time. A day was more than enough time, if she was stuck in one place. A week? It was impossible to protect her that long, but that was what he would have to do. And somehow, he'd have to do it from a jail cell. He pinched his lips together and tried not to think of it as an impossible task. Anything was possible, if he tried hard enough.

  "Is there a problem here?"

  Misty came through the door behind him. He looked at her out of the corner of her eye. She took the message and found a seat.

  "Sheriff Holloway," one of them said. "We, uh… well, we've been hearing some interesting stories, from this guy."

  "Interesting how?"

  "He says, and I know this is crazy, but he says you pulled a gun on him."

  "Well, I didn't," Grant said. "I was assaulted. He may have been present, but any action I took was in self-defense."

  "That's fine, but…"

  "But what?"

  Deputy Sloane spoke up finally. He had a stern expression on her face. It was the expression she habitually wore, and it was a good look for her. As was the wedding ring on her finger, he noted. Hopefully happier than his own marriage had been.

  "You know how this is going to look, if the press gets ahold of it. Another cop who pulls his gun because he thinks he's above the law. And if we just take your word for it, then we'll look complicit. Some kind of thin blue line thing."

  "Well, I'm telling you, you can pull my dash cam footage. It'll back up everything I said."

  "Figured you'd say that," she said. "But that doesn't actually help us, does it?"

  "No," the Sheriff said. "Not really."

  "So what do you think we ought to do here?"

  "I think you should let me go."

  "I'm not convinced that you're thinking from your perspective as Sheriff, Grant," Sloane said. She kept that stern expression. He expected it to soften a little. Maybe to betray some small hint of sympathy. She didn't. "I think you're into this too deep."

  He let out a deep breath and closed his eyes, slumped his shoulders. "That's fair," he started. And that was where he stopped, too. There wasn't much way he could argue for himself.

  "You talk to the guy about leaving the scene of an accident?"

  "He says he's going to eat the fine, but he was concerned about the danger that you posed."

  "And considering that I posed no danger whatsoever?"

  "I'm not trying to be a bitch here, Sheriff, but…" she pursed her lips and tried to force a little bit of sympathy on, presumably thinking it would make Grant listen. He suddenly wished she hadn't done it. It looked disingenuous on her. "You can tell it to the judge at your arraignment. If it's as open-and-shut as you say, then I'm sure he'll throw it out."

  "That's not going to happen."

  "I'm sorry?"

  "I'm not sitting in a cell," he said. "It's not like I'm a flight risk. Do you think?"

  "That's the law, Sheriff."

  Grant set his jaw and straightened. He stood a full head taller than his Deputy, though she had something in her that seemed to add an unmistakable stature. He felt like he was butting chests with the umpire in a baseball game, more than lording over a petite woman. She jutted her jaw out and for a moment he thought that she was going to throw a pre-emptive punch.

  "I'm not going to accept it," he said. "I'll stay around, but I'm not going to sit in a cell. You've got nothing but his word against my video footage, and I'm not going to be bogarted."

  She softened. It wasn't sympathy, this time, forced or not. She tucked her tail between her legs. "I thought you might feel that way," she said. She stepped back. "But if this goes wrong, I'm not taking the fall for you."

  "I wouldn't ask you to," Grant said. "Nor anyone else. Anyone wants to make sure I mention that they fought me on this, when the press gets ahold of me, step forward and I'll make sure to make a note of it. I'm not trying to ruin anyone's reputation here."

  The deputies studied their shoes. From the conference room, a man turned to watch him over the back of a chair. Behind him, the door chimed as it opened. He turned.

  "I'd like to report a hit-and-run," a strange voice said. The second stranger in town in under four hours? It was unheard of. The Sheriff turned.

  "It's you," the woman said. Then she turned and stepped right back out the door.

  Grant had never seen her before in his life. But that didn't mean that he didn't send Sloane to go fetch her, and get her statement. It seemed wrong to chase after her himself, if she was afraid of him. And if she had something to say about the accident he'd been in, then he wanted to know what it was.

  If she said what he was afraid she was going to say, there was a long list of other things that he wanted to know. 'Who put her up to it' topped the list. But first, they had to catch her.

  Grant sat in his office and leaned back in his chair. He looked across the desk at Sloane; then he looked past her. Misty sat behind a desk, with a Sheriff's coat wrapped around her shoulders, and tried to look like she fit in. She didn't, and it was obvious.

  "Okay, let's go through the whole thing," Sloane said.

  "I told you," he said. "There's no story to be told. The first thing I knew was when I got creamed, and then a bunch of guys I didn't know were swarming the car."

  "Let's dig into that, then," Sloane said. "I'm not trying to bust your balls here, Grant."

  He rubbed the bridge of his nose. He was too tired to deal with this. But he'd heard about real interrogations, in some of the big cities, and he'd heard about some of the stuff that guys went through overseas. He reminded himself that this was hardly anything, in the grand scheme of things.

  "Yeah. Okay." He let out a breath. "Where do I start?"

  "How about we start with your leaving the station?"

  "I left the station to get some food. My shift was over, anyways."

  "You took a cruiser. Is that standard?"

  "I've been doing it for four years. You know the only car I've got is that old Honda, and it barely runs."

  "You could afford something else."

  "I could, if I had to. But I didn't need to, because I took a cruiser. If I got a complaint, I'd look into it, but I didn't."

  "Okay. What about the girl?"

  "I don't understand the question."

  "Why bring her?"

  "She's an old friend. I thought it would be nice to celebrate her return to town."

  "Okay, so you went out to get something to eat, with an old girlfriend?"

  "I'm not interested in getting into my history with Miss Glenn, so yeah. That's enough to get by."

  "Why not?"

  "Because it's not germane to the case, first, and second, because there's history that doesn't help anyone, but it's stuff I'd rather not think too hard about."

  "So for the record–" Sloane looked significantly at the recorder, and then looked back at the sheriff. "At that time, you had no reason to suspect that there was anything untoward, or anything to worry about?"

  "I had a woman I hadn't seen in almost ten years come in telling me that she was being chased by some guys. It sounded crazy. I assumed it was either a whole bunch of lies, or it was enough half-truths that I didn't care enough to dig through it all. So in hindsight, I had reason, but at the time, I didn't see any reason to be suspicious."

  "Alrig
ht. You went to dinner. Where did you go?"

  "The diner in town," he said.

  "The name of the diner."

  "Come on, the good one." He let out a breath, and racked his mind. They didn't have a sign that he knew of. The menu had a logo on it, but his memory of it was that it just said 'Burgers' and it had been a long time since he needed to look to make sure that his memory was complete. "The one on Main. I don't think it's got a name. 'Burgers' is all I remember."

  "Okay." Sloane took a breath. Grant sat back in his chair and looked past her again, checking on Misty. She'd pulled out a pack of cards that someone shouldn't have kept on their desk, and was dealing herself out a Solitaire game. "So. Next question. Anything happen during dinner?"

  "Yeah," he said. "Carrie-Anne was being a nosy brat," he said. "Otherwise, no."

  "Nothing at all? I'm just…" she pressed the button on the recorder and let out a breath. "Look, boss. I know I'm not painting myself as a particularly sympathetic figure here. I know, okay? But you have to understand, we've gotten no less than four separate calls about this. Not a one of them is a local. Who the hell is this guy?"

  "I don't know," Grant said. "But I know that I think it's got something to do with the girl. Whatever she's involved in, they're putting a lot of effort into punishing anyone who gets within fifty feet of her."

  "So what are we supposed to do about it? It's not like anyone's going through official channels, and if they did, then I don't know what we'd do about it."

  "I don't know what we do," Grant said. "But I'm not happy about this."

  A moment passed. "Yeah," Sloane said. "I get it."

  "Not you," Grant told her, on the edge of annoyed. Now was not the time for his deputies to become prima donnas. He needed someone in his corner, because it was becoming clearer and clearer that there was something going on, and there was no way that he was going to be able to deal with it himself, regardless of what he might have wanted to be able to pull off.

  "Okay. Back on." She pressed play and record at the same time. It should have been a digital recorder; even though the cost wasn't high, nobody had allocated the funds to buy something new. So they kept the analog records, and digitized them whenever it became necessary to do so. "So tell me what happened after you left the diner."