Enemies on Tap (Sweet Salvation Brewery 1)

It had taken the deputies about fifteen minutes after Miranda’s call to 911 to arrive with Hud in his tow truck following behind. The oldest deputy spent the next twenty minutes pulling every detail she could remember about the truck out of her muddled brain. An almost cotton-like fuzziness slowed her normally whip-quick thinking, making the whole process arduous for everyone involved.

“I know this is difficult, Ms. Sweet, but if you can remember anything else…”

Damn, she wished she could, but all she could see was the truck’s grill taking up almost the entire view from her windshield. She scrubbed her palm across her face, rubbing against the bridge of her nose. “Everything just happened really fast.”

He took a step closer and leveled a critical gaze at her. “Are you sure you don’t want an ambulance?”

“I’m good.” She shook her head, setting off an army of ice pick jabbing minions who delighted in piercing her brain.

“Well, at least take a load off.” He jerked his chin toward the wooded area behind her.

Miranda sank back down onto a tree stump and watched Hud hook her car up to his tow truck.

“First the slashed tires. Now this.” The deputy flipped his notebook closed. “It seems someone has taken a pretty strong dislike toward you. Any ideas?”

“In Salvation? Take your pick.” She rolled her neck, stretching out the tightness there. “My sisters and I inherited the Sweet Salvation Brewery—”

The words died in her throat as an image of the brewery parking lot flashed in her mind. The line of trucks with one overshadowing them all. A custom-camouflaged paint job. Huge tires. An empty can of chew laying on the front dash. A shiver of fear worked its way up from her toes, spilling ice through her veins.

It was the same truck, she’d swear to it.

And it hadn’t been in the Sweet Salvation Brewery parking lot since—

She shot up from the stump. “It was Carl.”

“Does Carl have a last name?”

“Brennan.” Her body went from arctic to Sahara in half a heartbeat. The last bits of confusion fled. It made perfect sense. The asshole didn’t have the nerve to confront her face-to-face so he pulled this crap instead. Slashing her tires. Trying to ram her off the road, safe and snug in his hulking truck’s cab. A coward’s attack. “He used to be the brewmaster.”

“Used to be?”

“I fired him.”

“Imagine he wasn’t so happy about that.” He flipped open his notebook again and started scratching notes in some sort of cop shorthand.

“Not in the least.” Her initial angry bravado abandoned her, and a platoon of icy-cold ants marched up her spine. “He told me he’d get what was coming to him.”

The deputy’s pen halted in mid loop. “Did you actually see him in the truck?”

“No. The only thing I could focus on was the truck’s front grill taking up my whole windshield.” Anxiety pinched her shoulders tight. Slashing her tires was one thing. Trying to flatten her car while she was still in it was another. “But you can still arrest him, can’t you? I know it was his truck.”

“I can talk to him. Maybe the lab can find paint scrapes on your car from the perp’s truck. We can compare those with Mr. Brennan’s vehicle.” He shrugged, the movement as blasé as his tone.

She tightened her arms across her belly. “You don’t sound hopeful.”

The deputy opened his mouth to say something but shut it before a sound had a chance to escape.

“Sorry, but I’m going to have to ask you to move.” Hud dipped the brim of his cap at her as he strode over to where she stood with the deputy. “Got ’er all locked and loaded. You want me to drop ’er off at the impound lot?”

“Yep. Thanks.” The deputy ushered her away from the bridge and out of Hud’s way.

The tow truck’s engine roared to life, and she flinched. It would probably be a good long while before the deep rumble of an oversized engine didn’t have that effect on her.

“Do you know where I can find Mr. Brennan?”

“I’m sure we’ve got a home address and contact information in his personnel file.” She pulled her phone out of her purse. “Let me call my sister, she’ll be able to access it.” Turning, she saw Natalie a second before she sprinted underneath the police tape crossing the road.

“I’m right here.” Natalie practically shoved the deputy over in her rush to Miranda’s side. “Oh, my God! Are you okay?”