Forbidden Fling (Wildwood 1)

“I’m not fucking either of you.” She rocked her shoulder to knock his hand away, and his expression froze. His eyes went dark. She’d just stepped into the danger zone. It was all or nothing now. So she drew a breath and used all her strength for her final demand. “Get. Out.”

Austin’s hand whipped up, and Delaney flinched for a strike. But instead of hitting her, he planted his hands on the bar, trapping her there.

Alarm swamped her brain, but she did her best to stay calm and think smart. He was way too big, too strong to fight. And none of her tools would win against a gun.

“You don’t tell me to get out. I’m the authority here. I’m the cop. You do what I say. Do you get that, Hart? You do what I say.”

Desperation tipped back into panic. And Delaney slipped into that zone she’d used as a kid, that steely place inside herself—a place where she was quiet, stable, and intently focused. A place she’d visited when her father had gone into drunken tirades and grown violent. A place that brought her an immense amount of inner strength and personal power.

But only temporarily.

“I’m not doing anything wrong. And I’m not making any trouble—”

“Your mere presence is trouble.” He smacked the bar, making Delaney jump. Then he bent until his face was directly in front of hers, but his eyes were focused on her mouth, and a lecherous little grin tipped the corners of his lips. “What are you willing to do to make me forget about all the nasty ripples you’re causing around here, Hart?”

She pulled in a shaky breath. “I’m willing to warn you that you’re being taped right now.”

His eyes shot up and latched on to hers, hot with irritation.

“I’m willing to tell you that the video and audio equipment monitoring the property, inside and out, is the hottest technology on the market and can record sounds down to ten decibels, which means it’s recording our every word.”

Fury leaped in his dark eyes. His jaw turned to stone. His nostrils flared. Color rushed to his cheeks. Delaney fisted her hands to keep from shoving him back.

Austin’s gaze darted up and around the ceiling. He straightened and stepped away, searching for the video equipment Trace had installed even when Delaney had insisted they didn’t need it. Trace had installed it to protect against the common crimes of vandalism and theft on a construction site, not assault. And Delaney was intensely clear on the fact that the equipment guaranteed little safety in this moment.

She pulled in a deep gulp of air and stole glances toward all the exits, but no direct route existed. And Austin still had his gun, which he might just be crazy enough to use. So she stuck with what was working.

“Don’t bother. You won’t find them.

Do you know how small they make these cameras now? The technology is—”

He swiveled back to her, lunged, and pinned her to the bar by the arms. Pain shot up her spine. Ethan was just as tall as Austin, just as big, just as built if you took away Austin’s Kevlar vest. But Austin’s menace made him seem ten times as imposing.

Hysteria bubbled around the edges of Delaney’s mind. She was a millimeter away from unraveling and going batshit crazy on him. But she knew that could earn her a spot in the local graveyard and Austin some kind of Deputy of the Month award.

“Them? How many? Where are they?” he demanded. “Tell me. Right now.”

“It doesn’t matter.” Her stomach spiraled with acid. “They’re web based. The feed is automatically saved directly to a server. You can’t even find it, let alone kill it.”

The heat of rage glowing in his eyes turned cold and hard in a way that shivered over her shoulders and clearly translated to, But I can kill you.

“The video is viewed by a security company daily,” she added. “You’re in Technicolor and Dolby, Deputy. If anything happens to me, now or in the future, cops at a higher pay grade than yours will be coming for you.”

Austin released her. “You fucking bitch.”

“A smart fucking bitch.” Residual terror made her shake uncontrollably. She straightened and forced herself to maintain a show of strength. “Since I’ve got your ass on a skewer, let me tell you how this is going to go.

“You’re going to leave me the hell alone for the rest of my time in town, and that feed, the one of you blackmailing me then threatening me, stays our secret. If you don’t, tonight’s footage goes viral. And I mean viral—the sheriff’s department, the state department, the mayor, the media. Anyone who will watch or listen. I imagine your father will have to drop out of the mayoral race when the public sees his son abusing his authority and the rights granted to every America citizen under the Constitution.”

When he opened his mouth to speak, she cut him off with, “If you doubt for a second that I’ll expose you for the narcissistic, misogynistic bastard that you are, go ahead, Deputy.” She was so panic stricken, she wobbled on the razor’s edge of insanity. “Push your luck. Try me.”

Ethan crumpled the scratch paper into a ball and pitched it against the warehouse wall. “Goddammit.”

Exhaling, he slumped on the stool and tapped his pencil on the workbench, letting his gaze blur over the empty kettle that should have something brewing in it. But there wasn’t any point in doing all that work to keep his brand alive or his customers happy if there wasn’t going to be any brewery.

No. He’d worked too long and too hard for this. Pops was depending on him to pull through.

Ethan dragged the notebook in front of him again, raked one hand into his hair, and started scribbling with the other, jotting all the locations of his cash and where he could get more.