by Liz Talley
Her forefathers and mothers had fought for the right to speak out. To protest. To chain themselves to flagpoles and other unmovable objects.
She wasn’t trouble or a drama queen.
She was a champion of the cause.
She was—
“Get the bolt cutters, Jared. We’ll cut her out of her handcuffs and then put her in ours,” Adam said.
About to be arrested.
Scarlet was going to jail.
CHAPTER SIX
PULLING AWAY FROM THE CURB of the library, Adam aimed the car toward the station and snuck a peak in his rearview mirror at the woman in the backseat. Color suffused Scarlet’s cheeks and the dark red hair escaping her ponytail clung to her sweaty neck. She wore no makeup or jewelry. Only a halter top that showed the lacy straps of a camisole, shorts and a pair of flip-flops. He was almost certain the crazy woman hadn’t even bothered with a bra, something that made his mouth go dry to think about.
“Are you cool enough?” he asked, pointing the air vents toward the steel-mesh barrier that separated them.
“Huh?”
“Cool enough?”
She nodded. “You are quite solicitous. Most police officers don’t bother with the comfort of their prisoners.”
The word prisoners sounded harsh in his ear. It wasn’t as if she were Roy the Can Man, whom Adam sometimes picked up for ransacking curbside garbage cans, or the occasional rowdy oil hand he cuffed at the local bars such as Cooleys or the Rocking Rooster. None of his former passengers had been mouthwateringly hot. None had made him think about naughty things he really shouldn’t be thinking about. “Wouldn’t want you dying of heatstroke on my watch. Couldn’t handle the flack we’d get over that.”
She sighed. “Such concern.”
He swerved around Clyde Riggs’s toy poodle. Picking up the CB, he buzzed the station. “Hey, Roz, put in a call to Clyde Riggs. Bruiser’s out for the third time this week. Tell ’em next time they’re getting a ticket.”
“Ten-four, Captain,” Roz’s voice squawked over the static.
“Oh, the dangerous life of an Oak Stand police chief,” Scarlet drawled.
He nearly flushed at her sarcasm. Sure, his job wasn’t dangerous, but it could be. If Bruiser bit ankles. “Yeah, it’s a rush.”
She snorted. It was cute.
“So am I, like, the biggest bust you’ve made so far?”
“Nah, we busted the kids who stole Bud Henry’s pig statue yesterday. Pig-statue thieves trump disorderlies every time.”
He glanced in the mirror again. Scarlet managed to smile. “So that’s what I’ve been arrested for? Being disorderly?”
“Officially, you have three charges against you. Disturbing the peace, unlawfully gathering and resisting arrest.”
“I didn’t resist,” she said.
He eyed her in the rearview again. She looked worried. She should be.
“When you handcuffed yourself to the flagpole, technically you resisted arrest.”
“But I didn’t know I was going to be arrested. That was before the fact, so technically I didn’t resist.”
“We’ll let the judge decide.”
He heard her slump against the vinyl seat.
“There was no cause for the drama. There are better ways to get what you want than handcuffing yourself to a flagpole.”
“Like handcuffing myself to a bedpost?” Her voice was mocking but that didn’t stop the hot flash of desire from broadsiding him.
“Well, I guess it’s too bad I had to destroy your little sex-toy handcuffs in the arrest. You could have checked to see if they would have worked.”
“On Harvey Primm?”
No. On me.
He shifted in his seat to relieve the stirring of desire making itself known in his tight motorcycle pants. Why he reacted so strongly to her baffled him. Well, no, it didn’t. Scarlet Rose was emphatically the kind of girl who roused his libido. He merely pretended to be surprised by the need building low in his pelvis. “Somehow I don’t see Primm being into kinky things.”
“Oh, don’t let him fool you. It’s always the quiet, straitlaced guys who are the sickest,” she said, tracing a finger down the squeaky clean window. She tilted her head and met his gaze in the mirror. She arched an eyebrow. “Right?”
“I wouldn’t know. I’m into missionary position exclusively.”
Scarlet seemed to choke on a laugh. “You say the damnedest things.”
“When I shouldn’t,” he muttered.
“Yeah, but sometimes it feels good to be bad.”
He turned onto Tucker Street just off the town square. The station squatted like a gnome next to the fire station. Scarlet must have spotted the brick building, for she grew still and quiet. Nothing like an ensuing incarceration to chase away sunshine. The gravity of the situation struck him.
Damn.
She was a prisoner.
He’d forgotten himself. He wished he could reach out and catch the flirty words he’d exchanged with her and take them back. Thank God there wasn’t a camera and recording equipment installed in the cruiser. He’d hate anyone seeing his lack of professionalism. He swung into his designated spot, precisely even between the freshly painted yellow lines. It was small pleasure, but he loved all things equal. All things balanced.
He climbed from the car and threw a cautionary wave at the news vans parking at the curb. Arresting the up-and-coming star of a Thursday-night headliner was big news. No doubt the tweets or whatever they did nowadays were blowing up on the internet. He’d have more reporters on the station’s doorstep by the end of the day. Of that, he was certain.
He opened the back door. Scarlet blinked up at him before extending one long white arm.
He looked at her hand and then at her.
She sighed. Then she wiggled her fingers.
Where did she think she was? The Golden Globes? This wasn’t the red carpet. This was a booking.
He ignored her hand. “Out.”
She glanced at him. “For the cameras?”
“No.”
“Oh, come on. It’ll make good copy and you’ll look debonair.”
He reached into the car, grabbed her upper arm and jerked her from the depths of the cruiser.
“Ow! Watch it. I bruise easily.”
“Then be glad I didn’t make you wear the cuffs,” he muttered, pulling her to her feet. He’d placed his hand on her head to make sure she didn’t collide with the door frame. He’d done nothing less than what was expected.
“Police brutality,” she trilled. He couldn’t tell if she was serious or joking. He hoped the latter. He didn’t need the hassle of having to explain himself to a jury.
“Come on. Let’s get inside before the reporters swarm you again.”
“I don’t mind,” Scarlet said, tossing her ponytail and a smile toward the cameras that moved their way. She raised her hand and gave a cheerful wave. “It’s actually perfect. When the free world hears about Harvey Primm and my heroics in trying to keep the book on the shelf, there will be a public outcry. It helps my cause.”
He didn’t smile. Her words reminded him that he had no business engaging in fantasies about a woman like her. She was trouble. She was self-involved. And she would rip him to shreds if he gave her the slightest opening. In fact, he wondered if she weren’t much better than Harvey. Had Scarlet used the protest as a way to gain attention for herself? To garner the spotlight? Help her own career?
He wouldn’t put it past the star of a glorified soap opera.
He steered her toward the brick building. Roz met them, swinging the tinted door open wide so they could escape the heat and the infernal cameras.
“Hi, Roz,” Scarlet said, giving an air kiss toward the older woman’s cheek. “Love the blond streaks in your hair. They make you look ten years younger.”
Roz beamed. “Thanks. Carly talked me into doing them down at the Curlique. She’s a really good stylist.”
“Little Carly Patterson?”
“Yep. My niece ain’t so little anymore. She’ll be twenty-one next month.”
“I can’t believe—”
“Lock the door, Roz,” Adam barked a bit too harshly. This wasn’t a social visit and the two women standing in front of him needed to remember that.
“Oh. Right.” Roz twisted the lock as the first reporter reached for the handle.
Adam tugged Scarlet around the long stretch of counter toward the empty metal desk in the center of the office. “Sit here, please. I’ve got to get the processing kit from the back.”
Scarlet sank onto the chair and crossed her legs. “So are you going to frisk me again?”
Roz paused at the coffeepot. Her eyes grew wider. “You frisked Scarlet?”
“Yeah,” Scarlet drawled. “He’s got good hands, if you know what I mean.”
Roz’s mouth dropped open and she turned accusing eyes on him.
Adam felt something terrible rise inside him. He knew what it was. A crack in the surface of his calm. One that could untether his self-control and fling it to the four winds, allowing him to bounce around with no constraints, no rules, no goal. “You know damn well I never touched you inappropriately. To say any different—”
“Got you,” Scarlet said, giving Roz a wink. “You’re so easy.”
Roz tittered. “I was wonderin’. Our Adam here is a follow-the-rules sorta fellow. He even makes us punch in on the time cards.”
“The horror,” Scarlet cried dramatically.
The woman really was too much.
He spun on one newly polished boot and stalked to the rear of the station. He hoped Jared had returned the fingerprint kit and camera to the cabinet next to the extra toilet paper. Last time it had taken everyone three days to discover he’d put it in the box with the Christmas lights.
Adam would process her, put her in the holding cell until she posted bond, then give himself another lecture on pretending the blazing-hot Scarlet was just another criminal. Just another woman. No one who would interest the professional, responsible leader of a police force. No one who made him fantasize about the various ways to use a pair of red furry handcuffs.
He stomped on that thought.
He would lie to himself. He had to. Had to believe she was not an option because the alternative would make him weak. He had to be able to say no to desire. To accept anything else was to admit he couldn’t do the job he was hired to do.
He was the chief of police.
It was expected that he would do his job and that he would do it well.
He wasn’t his father.
He had integrity. He had control. He had morals.
So he absolutely could not, would not fall prey to his desire. He would pretend like hell he didn’t burn for the woman talking to Roz about Jennifer Garner’s favorite face cream. He would deny to the hilt that he wanted to cuff her to his bed and spend the better part of an afternoon getting acquainted with her delicious breasts and taut stomach. He would rather cut out the tongue that he wanted to dip in her navel before feasting on the delicate beauty of her ankles…and all the splendor in between.
He would do it because Adam Hinton was a stand-up guy. He was not a horny buzzard looking for fresh meat.
He couldn’t allow himself to be.
SCARLET STUDIED her fingernails. The polish was chipped on her pinky nail. Guess she couldn’t repair it, since it seemed unlikely they would allow a manicurist in the town jail. “I really shouldn’t tease Chief Hinton so much.”
“Oh, the man needs it, honey,” Roz said with a twinkle in her brown eyes. “He tries so darn hard to do everything right. He’s all rules and hard corners. It’s almost sad to see a man wound up that tight. I swear, you could shove a piece of coal up his butt and have a diamond in a week.”
Scarlet smiled. “Maybe I’ll try that. I’m partial to diamonds.”
“Aren’t we all?” Roz laughed and filled the coffeepot with bottled water. “He’s a good fellow, even if he has all kinds of crazy ideas about the way to do things. He loves gadgets and newfangled police stuff. He wants paperwork done yesterday.”
Scarlet nodded. “Nothing wrong with progress, though, huh?”
Roz shoved a filter into the basket before looking up. “But nothing wrong with doing things the way they’ve always been done.”
“As long as they make sense,” Scarlet said. She glanced around the station. It looked as if the soft gray color had been recently applied to the walls. All the desks were cleared and large healthy plants framed the glass door she’d stepped through not five minutes before. Everything was clean, neat and orderly. Much like the man who had parked her in this chair.
“Guess you’re right about that. Just been tough since the chief passed. He was here so long and we was used to him, you know?”
Scarlet knew. Her thoughts flew immediately to John. She hadn’t wanted to give him up, either. In the end, that hadn’t been an option. John had ended their relationship without any consideration for what she wanted. But time marched on. For the Oak Stand police department. And for Scarlet Rose. She should let go of the pain, the love she still clung to, but her heart wouldn’t let her.
“Mr. Don was a good man. I know you miss him, but Chief Hinton seems like what the doctor ordered. New blood brings new opportunities.” Scarlet picked at her fingernail again and wondered why she rose to Adam’s defense. Maybe because it seemed to be true. Maybe because he seemed to be a good person trying to do the right thing.
“So, you still getting it on with that yummy Karakos?”
“Stefan?”
“Oh, yeah. His real name. I heard rumors he’s gay.”
Scarlet forced out a laugh. “He is so not gay. Actually, we’re living together now.”
Roz’s jaw dropped. “Really? He’s so sexy. Those dark eyes and that cleft in his chin. Gives me the shivers.”
“You should sleep with him,” Scarlet said, heavy on the innuendo but leaving out that when she’d slept with Stefan it had been on the couch. In their jammies. With a bowl of popcorn between them. And the man snored.
“Got it,” Adam said as he reentered the large room. “This time Jared actually put the kit back where it belonged.”
Roz frowned as she poured a cup of fresh coffee into a chipped ceramic mug. Obviously, she had wanted more scoop on Stefan. “Well, at least he’s learnin’ something.”
Adam set the kit on the desk next to Scarlet. “Maybe so.”
Scarlet glanced at the briefcase. “I’m guessing you don’t arrest too many people?”
“Not lately,” Roz muttered, bringing Adam the coffee. “Chief Hinton has all the lowlifes scared. Ever since he busted Tullis Jones making meth in his daddy’s old barn. That takedown made state news. Everybody in Oak Stand is mindin’ their p’s and q’s.”
“Thanks, Roz.” Adam accepted the mug. “Well, someone should have told that to Christian Harvey. His old man nearly had an apoplectic fit when he found his pig in the football stadium. I thought Bud was going to have me arrest the boy and his friends.”
Roz laughed. “Boys will be boys.”
Scarlet watched as Adam laid the items from the kit on the desk. Everything was aligned perfectly. Side by side, one inch apart. Strange.
“I hated to arrest you, Scarlet, but you didn’t leave me much choice. People watch me closely. I can’t give them an inch or they’ll take a mile and string me up with it. Let’s do the fingerprinting, then we’ll take the picture.” Adam took her hand. The one she’d been scraping off the polish from. His touch startled her.
“Sorry if my hands are cold. Roz keeps this office like a meat locker.”
“You go through menopause and see how you like it,” Roz quipped, heading to her desk, where a phone lit up like the town Christmas tree in December.
Adam smiled and took Scarlet’s index finger between his, rolled it on a small machine that looked like a photo dock. No messy ink on her fingers. Nice. She, for one, could appreciate Adam’s purchase of
a gadget.
“Don’t I get a phone call?” Scarlet said, enjoying the feeling of her hand in his, despite the fact he was processing her for a crime. She still couldn’t figure out why this man created a stirring in her belly. Why she wanted to turn her hand over and clasp his, sliding her fingers through his so they met palm to palm.
He lifted his gaze to hers. “Of course. I’m sure your sister will post bond, and we can release you. Your arraignment will be Monday. You’ll go before the judge and state your plea.”
Scarlet peered toward the front door. Reporters pressed against the glass. She could see a man wearing a Texas A&M ball cap peeking through the shades of one of the side windows. “What judge? Maybe Judge Monroe? I babysat for his daughter once.”
He shook his head. “Judge Monroe’s in Hawaii with his wife on an anniversary trip. Most likely Judge Cleveland. He’s up for reelection. Or maybe Sharon Kent.”
Scarlet closed her mouth. She’d handcuffed herself to the flagpole for many reasons, the most important of which was to get national press for the protest. But the reality of the situation pressed down on her. She didn’t know Judge Kent nor Judge Cleveland. If Cleveland were up for reelection, would he be tougher on her? Would she have to serve time? For handcuffing herself to a flagpole? Surely not. The last time she’d gotten arrested at a protest it had been a misdemeanor and she’d had to pay a fine.
“What if I can’t make bond? How does all this work?”
His green eyes seemed to be slightly sympathetic. “Your sister may be mad, but I don’t think she’d leave you here.”
Adam lowered his head and punched something into the fingerprinting machine. His hair was so alluringly golden she almost lifted a hand to touch the swirl at the crown of his head. Which would have been way weird. She shoved her hand beneath her thigh.
“You don’t know Rayne very well, do you?” Scarlet said, worried that Rayne might refuse. She was likely pissed Scarlet had done something so…so…true to form. Who else could she call? Her parents had left for California and an art show the day before. Maybe Aunt Frances? Maybe Scarlet would simply call the Inn. Whoever answered would come get her. They were probably on their way right now. After all, her family and friends wouldn’t leave her in jail, would they?