Ian peered around the corner of the building and found Misty fighting to drag the trash around the cruiser.
“It makes you feel all mighty and powerful to be a shit to all us little people, doesn’t it, Sheriff?” She said the last with contempt.
“We need to talk,” he told her.
“The hell we do.” She made it to the front of the cruiser before Hank rounded the open driver’s door and grabbed her arm. He yanked her hard enough to make Misty drop the garbage. She whirled on him, furious. “Who in the hell do you think—”
“You need to talk to Savannah,” he ordered.
Misty yanked her arm from Hank’s grip. “Touch me again and I’ll yell ‘rape’ so loud, your ears will bleed.”
Ian smiled. He was grateful Savannah had a friend with guts.
Hank approached her, hands on hips, until he was in her face. “You’re going to talk to her, and you’re going to convince her to dump that grease monkey.”
Ian’s smile vanished. He gritted his teeth, swore under his breath. A whole new, heightened sense of protectiveness flowed through his veins after last night. This morning, he’d woken to her soft, warm body pressed against his, and it was as if a light switch had flipped on. He had new goals and new purpose, all related to Savannah and Jamison.
But he still had very real, very substantial hurdles to jump.
“In case you hadn’t noticed,” Misty said, “Savannah is very independent. She has her own mind. Nothing I say will pry her away from Ian.”
A flutter irritated his gut—excitement and dread. He hoped Misty was accurate about Savannah’s commitment, but he was also pretty sure there was something he could say that would ruin everything between them. It went along the lines of “I’ve been lying to you from day one.”
Hank stepped into Misty’s path.
“See, this is why Savannah would never come back to you. You and your arrogance. You’re such an asshole.”
“You’re going to change her mind,” Hank told her.
Misty just laughed. “Not a chance in hell.”
“You will,” Hank’s tone deepened and darkened. “Or you’ll find the FBI at your barn.”
FBI at her barn? That struck Ian as strange.
“Well, that would sure ruin this thing you and Lyle have going, wouldn’t it?” she said.
Dots instantly connected, but Ian resisted the picture they created. Like looking at an ink blot, he tried to twist it into something he could believe.
“They sell that shit all over the darknet, nowadays,” Hank said. “Your father may have been the only game in town when we started this, but now…” He shook his head. “We can get them anywhere.”
“Great. I don’t want to do that shit for you anyway,” Misty shot back, picking up the bag and walking right into him, pushing him aside with the garbage. “If it weren’t for Savannah and Jamison, you’d have been shit out of luck when Dad died. So go ahead, by all means. If you think the darknet would be a great option, go for it. Since the Silk Road went down, every law enforcement agency on the planet tracks the darknet. I’d love to see you get caught.”
Holy. Shit. Ian couldn’t believe where this was leading.
“Convince Savannah,” Hank demanded. “Or you’ll lose everything, including your freedom.”
Ian couldn’t get his mind around Misty as a counterfeiter. Talk about getting blindsided. His mind darted back to what Savannah had told him about Misty’s father. An inventor… Useless gadgets of all kinds… Only one ever made him any money… Sounded a lot like that one gadget had been a counterfeiting setup. One Hank had blackmailed Misty into continuing when her father died.
He pressed his back against the wall and looked up at the blue sky. Snow clouds loomed in the distance. Did Savannah know about Misty’s activities? Had she helped Misty? He thought back to the night before and Savannah’s interest in passports. She wouldn’t have asked him if she knew her best friend created them. Would she?
Sickness tightened his gut. Even if Savannah didn’t know, she’d find out. At some point, Ian was going to have to tell her. Warn her. Prepare her for the inevitable—losing her best friend to prison. And as soon as he did, he would lose her.
“Fuck me.” He rounded the opposite corner and entered the café.
The lunch crowd had dwindled. A couple of older guys sat at the counter, drinking coffee and chatting. Savannah was in the dining room, cleaning and arranging tables for the dinner rush. She was wearing the jeans with the sparkles on the back pockets, but he certainly didn’t need the adornment to focus there. Nor did he need any help pulling up the feel of her great ass in his hands the night before.
One night. Barely twelve hours. How could it feel like she’d been his a damn month?