Falling for the Enemy (Private Pleasures 3)

“Show me your registration, license, and proof of insurance.”

“They’re in my glove compartment and purse, respectively. I need to move my hands off the wheel to get them.”

“Don’t get smart with me, Miz Boca.”

Yep, he remembered her. “Just giving you fair warning.” She released the wheel and dug into her purse for her license and insurance card, pleased her hands remained steady and her voice sounded calm. Hopefully Crocker couldn’t tell her heart was trying to pound its way out of her ribcage and a cold line of sweat ran down her spine. She handed her license and insurance card over, and then fished the registration from the glove compartment and passed the document to Crocker as well.

“I’ll be back,” he warned and sauntered to his cruiser.

She faced forward and fought back shivers as she watched him through her rearview mirror. When he crammed himself into his car and got on the radio, she grabbed her jacket from under her purse and slipped it on. In the process she tipped her purse over and some of the contents spilled out onto the passenger seat. She stuffed her wallet, brush and breath mints back into the bag, picked up her cell phone to do the same, but then paused. Crocker and his “get your hands on the wheel” attitude freaked her out, and that freaked-out part of her really wanted to call Shaun and…what? Have him monitor the situation via cell phone? That made no sense. Especially since Josh, the fire chief, and Roger, a respected local attorney, were less than three hundred yards away, in Rawley’s. She should call one of them to come out and make sure Crocker didn’t shoot her if she scratched her nose without permission.

The slam of the cruiser door took away her options. No time for a call. Going with a rogue impulse, she hit the camera icon on her phone. It took her only a second more to toggle to video. She pressed play and dropped her phone into the pocket of her jacket. The camera wouldn’t pick up anything worth viewing, but the aud

io…

Crocker opened her driver’s side door and stared at her in a way that made her feel like a raccoon caught in a foothold trap. “Miz Boca, step out of the car.”

Uh-oh. She did as he asked, never taking her eyes off him. “Is there a problem, Deputy?”

“Several problems. Making an illegal U-turn, reckless driving, driving while intoxicated, fleeing police…”

“What?!”

“You heard me.” He turned her around so she faced her car, and brought her wrists together behind her back.

“I made a U-turn on an empty road. I didn’t drive recklessly and I’m not intoxicated. Administer a field sobriety test, or, better yet, breathalyze me.”

“We’ll test you at the station.”

Cold metal touched her wrist. Handcuffs. She blinked back tears. This could not be happening. “It will show I’m not drunk. I also didn’t flee—”

“You continued driving after I flashed my lights at you.” He secured the cuff around her other wrist. “I turned on my siren and gave chase.”

“I’m a measly fifty yards from where you flashed your lights. I never accelerated. I pulled over at the nearest safe place.” She tried to turn around, but he manhandled her back against the car.

“Tell it to the judge. Virginia Boca, you’re under arrest.”

Chapter Fifteen

At ten o’clock, Shaun uncorked another bottle of Chardonnay he “borrowed” from Tom’s wine cellar, poured a glass for his soon-to-arrive guest, and strolled outside to sit on the porch steps. At ten thirty, he went inside, grabbed his cell phone off the kitchen counter and checked the display. No missed calls, no voicemails, no texts. By eleven, he’d left a voicemail on Virginia’s phone and then sent a text. When eleven thirty came and went, with no response to any of his messages, including the additional text message he sent, he gave in to the worry gnawing at his gut, and got in the Jeep.

He knew where she wasn’t—neither the camera on her porch nor the camera at her salon had sent his phone any alerts. Hopefully, she was still in Rawley’s, talking and laughing with her friends, completely oblivious to the time. He could handle slipping off her radar in the midst of a big engagement party for one of her closest friends. What he couldn’t handle was not knowing where she was. His mind took the uncertainty and ran in too many unacceptable directions.

A drive past Rawley’s, however, confirmed her car wasn’t in the parking lot. He hadn’t passed her on the drive in, and he still hadn’t heard from her. He considered going into Rawley’s and asking after her, but people didn’t know him here anymore, and even those who would recognize him, like Tyler and Junior, didn’t know about his relationship with Virginia—he’d come off like a stalker. Plus…a shrapnel-sharp thought detonated in his head…if she’d left with a guy, nobody inside the bar was likely to spill the information to a virtual stranger. He kept driving, and ended up at the only logical place.

Her doorstep. He parked the Jeep up the street, more annoyed than ever about the need to pretend he wasn’t there to see her, and climbed her steps. And waited…and waited…and waited. Over an hour of waiting before the sound of a car engine approached, and then suddenly ceased instead of fading. Doors slammed. Footsteps advanced up her steps, and then stopped. A deep, masculine voice said something he didn’t catch, and then her unmistakable, husky voice replied, “Roger, I can’t thank you enough for tonight.”

Okay, Roger was dead, whoever he was. Shaun got to his feet and prepared for a confrontation.

“It was my pleasure. Honestly. I’m glad I could get you off. Call me anytime.”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but I hope I won’t need your expertise again anytime soon. I really appreciate you coming to my rescue.”

Her words sounded so heartfelt, Shaun wanted to punch the door.

“Ginny, before we call it a night, can I talk to you about something you said earlier?”

“Sure. Of course.” He could picture her brushing her hair away from her face and looking up at this Roger asshole with her big, green, thankful eyes.