As Layla pressed the elevator button, her phone pinged. A text from her father. I need to see you in my office, now. Your fiancé is here and he’s upset as hell.
Perfect. How one day could go from crappy to decent and then right back into the toilet, she had no idea. But she figured she was about to find out. Her stomach, already upset from stress, churned. She thought longingly of the roll of antacids she kept in her desk drawer but decided not to make a quick detour to get them. Fenwick Colton despised being kept waiting.
As soon as she reached the third floor, she headed directly to her father’s office suite. His assistant, a sullen young woman named Brielle who always seemed to be on her cell phone, waved her through without even glancing up.
After rapping softly on the door, she opened it and went inside. Her heels immediately sank into the plush carpet.
Both her father and Hamlin went silent at the sight of her. They were sitting side by side on the ridiculously expensive lambskin couch Fenwick had hired a specialty design store to make.
Hamlin jumped to his feet when she entered, though he didn’t smile. Her father did not rise or smile either.
“There you are,” Hamlin said, reaching for her to pull her into his customary, stiff, full-body hug. Pretending not to notice, Layla managed to avoid him. Today, his silver-white hair frizzed around his head like a foggy halo, reminding her of photos she’d seen of Albert Einstein. In stark contrast to her father, who wore a three-thousand-dollar custom-made suit, Hamlin wore his “ranch suit”—a diamond-studded denim jacket and dark jeans—with thousand-dollar cowboy boots. He kept an office at his green energy company, Harrington Inc., but he loved his ranch, even if he barely bothered to oversee the people he’d hired to run it. She spotted his pricey Stetson, one of his affectations, on the back of the sofa.
“Explain yourself,” Fenwick barked, making her jump. “What is all this nonsense about you sexually harassing Mark Hatton?”
Though she lifted her chin, Layla felt the heat of a blush spreading over her face. “It’s not true,” she replied. “At all.”
Hamlin’s bushy gray brows rose. “Are you saying you’re being framed, my dear?”
“Yes.”
Though Hamlin frowned, her father’s hard expression didn’t change at all. “You need to clean that up, run damage control. Settle if you have to, but do whatever you must to make that go away.”
“Settle?” She stared in disbelief. Of all the things her father had asked of her, this ranked as one of the worst. “I’m innocent, so, no, there won’t be any settling. Of any kind. The police are investigating and I feel confident they’ll unearth the truth.”
“The truth doesn’t matter,” Fenwick insisted. “What matters is the damage to your public persona and to our company. If people believe you actually did—”
“Enough already,” Hamlin interrupted. “Personally, I don’t really care if Layla has the hots for some twenty-two-year-old underling. But this is also, as you say, very embarrassing. Even if the police were to catch the Groom Killer today, the wedding will have to continue to be postponed until Layla is cleared of all charges.”
“But—” Fenwick started to protest.
“No debate.” Hamlin’s implacable tone matched his steely expression. “Matter closed.”
Hating how the two men carried on as if she wasn’t even there, Layla cleared her throat, and once she had both their attention, she made a show of checking her watch. “I have work to do. Is there anything else?”
The scorn in her father’s gaze cut her to the bone, though she took care not to show it. “Just get your mess cleaned up. Use my attorney if you have to.”
Since she already had, she simply nodded. Her fiancé watched her, looking her up and down as if she was nothing more to him than livestock up for auction. As always, lust sparked in his eyes, but nothing more.
Distaste filled her. Now that she knew the reason for Colton Energy’s money problems—and that they were fixable—she felt a lot less inclined to offer herself as a sort of sacrificial lamb.
“We’ll see how this plays out,” Hamlin drawled. She couldn’t help but notice not only did he not offer to help, but he expressed no concern for her emotions. He didn’t even bother to ask if she was all right after being arrested and dragged off to jail.
Of course, what had she expected? He’d never claimed to love her, just to want her in his bed. He’d made it clear from the beginning that he saw her as a trophy wife, a pretty younger woman he could flaunt on his arm. Never mind that she was a person in her own right, a successful businesswoman with a brain.
She sighed.
As he watched her, Fenwick’s gaze sharpened. “Might I remind you, the fate of your favorite charity depends on this wedding going off without a hitch.”
Subtle—not. She’d worked tirelessly to ensure Colton Energy’s charitable contributions went toward dog rescue. Specifically, rescues that rehabilitated dogs and trained them as service animals or police dogs. Part of the donations went to the Red Ridge PD’s K9 training unit. Except according to Hunter, they now made enough to operate without accepting charity.
Clearly her father didn’t know this, even though as mayor he had access to all the bookkeeping for all town agencies, including the police department. She doubted he’d even care, except for the loss of one more thing he could hold over her head in order to make her do his bidding.
She felt as if blinders had been removed from her eyes and she could suddenly see. Disconcerting, to say the least.
Not trusting herself to speak, she turned on her heel and left without another word.
Back in her office, she closed the door and went to stand at her floor-to-ceiling window. Fuming, she realized she needed not only to have a long talk with her father, but a separate conversation with Hamlin. Eventually. Not today. Her head had started to ache.
Again she found herself thinking of Hunter Black and the way his eyes had crinkled at the corners when he’d smiled at her. She’d definitely felt a tug of attraction.
Impulsively, she pulled his card from her purse and dialed the number. He answered on the third ring.
“Officer Black.”
“Hunter, it’s Layla Colton,” she said. “I was wondering if you’d like to have coffee or a drink with me later.”
Silence. An awkward, uncomfortable silence that stretched out for way too long.
“I’m sorry, but I can’t date the subject of an ongoing investigation,” he finally said. “That’d be unethical, not to mention against the rules.”
“Not as a date,” she rushed to explain, horrified. “I just thought we could go over a few things pertaining to my case.” Swallowing hard, she hoped she didn’t sound too pathetic. After the meeting with her father and her so-called fiancé, she needed some quiet companionship. Why she’d thought of Hunter first, she wasn’t sure. “Perhaps you’re forgetting I’m engaged to Hamlin Harrington?”
“Ah, right. You know what, that actually sounds great, then,” he said. “Coffee, though, as I can’t drink while on duty.”
On the verge of asking him to go when he was off duty, she bit her tongue. She was engaged, wedding postponed or not. Plus, she really just needed a friend right now.
“When?”
Again, he took a moment to consider. “I work graveyard this week. What time are you thinking?”
“Lately, I’ve been working long into the night,” she said. “But it’s been a really long day, so I’m going home at five. Maybe sooner.” Except the last thing she wanted was caffeine in the evening. From personal experience, she knew she’d be up all night. She explained this, feeling rather sheepish since she’d been the one to throw the idea out there.
“All right. I get that. How about we grab a bite to eat instead?”
She froze. “Okay,” she finally agreed, telling herself that this was not a date. “Where?” So help her if he said Peretti’s. The cozy Italian restaurant was well-known as the most romantic place in town to take a date.
“Pizza Heaven?” He sounded as if he was smiling. “I could use a good slice of Canadian bacon and pineapple.”
“That’s my favorite, too,” she said, surprised and also relieved. “And Pizza Heaven will be perfect.”
They agreed on a time to meet—six thirty. With a quiet sigh of relief, she ended the call.
Leaning back in her chair, she smiled. Odd how just hearing the husky bass of his voice made her feel better. It had been a long time since she’d let herself be attracted to someone. It just figured that when she finally did, he’d only want to be friends.
Oh, well. Though her half sister Patience, as well as her other siblings, had called and left several messages expressing their worry about her arrest, she’d been avoiding returning them. Mainly because they always tried to talk her out of marrying Hamlin. She didn’t have many friends, either. Right now, she’d take any offers of friendship she could get.
After hanging up the phone, Hunter wondered why he felt so jazzed at the idea of going for pizza with Layla Colton. Okay, she was gorgeous, true. And much more warm and personable than he remembered. Of course, they’d barely spoken to each other back when he’d worked at Colton Energy. He’d been guilty of basing his impression of her on what he’d heard around the office. Monikers like Ice Princess and Daddy’s Hatchet hadn’t gone a long way toward making her seem kind and fuzzy.
Chief Colton walked out into the main room and whistled, the sharp sound cutting through the chatter and background noise. Officers hurriedly concluded their phone calls, and the room became eerily silent.
“We’ve got another murder,” he announced, his voice as grim as his expression. “One more groom has been killed. This time, the victim was Xavier Wesley. His body has been transported to the coroner.”
“How long ago?” someone asked.
“Time of death has yet to be established.” The chief cleared his throat. “However, Demi Colton’s bracelet was found near the body.”
Immediately, the chatter started back up. Chief Colton waited a moment before whistling again. “What’s more, we have a witness who claims to have seen Demi pull the trigger. If he’s credible, we might just have solved the case.”
With that pronouncement, the chief went back to his office and closed the door.
The squad room erupted in noise. The Groom Killer was all anyone ever talked about these days. At the police station, even while dealing with the normal routine of routine crime—shoplifters, a hot-check writer and the occasional drunk driving or drug possession arrest—every single officer wanted to be the one to solve the Groom Killer case.
Even in town, whether at the breakfast café, the tire shop or the pizza parlor, the first thing everyone asked Hunter was if they’d caught the Groom Killer yet.
The first murder had been a shock and everyone in law enforcement had considered it an aberration. Things like that didn’t happen in Red Ridge. But then another groom had been killed, and another, and a clear pattern had emerged.
Apprehending the murderer was the RRPD’s number one priority.
And now it appeared the case might have been solved.
Except Hunter didn’t believe it had. Too cut-and-dried. First up, Demi Colton might be a lot of things, but she wasn’t stupid. Even if she’d lost her mind and decided to become a serial killer, she wouldn’t go around leaving personal belongings at the scene. Or witnesses.
And lastly, she didn’t fit the profile. At all. West Brand and his former colleagues at the FBI had mentioned that very few women were serial killers. West didn’t believe Demi was the Groom Killer.
Hunter got up and made his way to the chief’s office. He tapped on the closed door and then opened it a crack to peer in. With the phone to his ear, Chief Colton held up one finger to indicate Hunter should wait.
Since the door had been closed, Hunter started to step back out of the office. But the chief shook his head and gestured toward the chair, phone still up against his ear.
Apparently, whoever was on the other end had a lot to say, because Chief Colton didn’t say much, other than the occasional uh-huh and I see. Finally, he placed the phone back in its cradle and shook his head. “That was one of West’s former colleagues at the bureau. He insists there’s no way Demi can be the Groom Killer. She doesn’t match the profile.”
Relieved, Hunter nodded. “That’s exactly what I was coming to talk to you about. My gut is telling me it’s not her.”
The chief rubbed his eyes. “We just need a break, you know? Between the Groom Killer, the Larson twins and their criminal activity that we haven’t been able to get a decent lead on, and now the Layla Colton case, it’s looking like we’re going to have our hands full right through the holidays.”
“No breaks on the Larsons, either?” Hunter asked, surprised. Though he wasn’t assigned to that particular case, he’d listened with interest when it had come up during their weekly briefings. Everyone knew the Larsons were involved in crimes ranging from manufacturing and dealing drugs to illegal weapon sales to theft. The DEA had paid numerous visits to Red Ridge, even setting up an undercover sting operation. Thus far, they had been completely unsuccessful in garnering any concrete evidence on the Larsons. They were never seen dealing, and thus far any stash of drugs or weapons had not been located. Not only were those particular criminals well organized, but they appeared to be widening their distribution area, expanding throughout the entire county.
“Nothing.” The chief’s glum tone matched his expression. “That’s why we really need a win. Finally catching the Groom Killer would really help. Not only for our officers’ morale, but to help rebuild the town’s confidence in us.”
Hunter nodded. “I get that. But if we arrest the wrong person, that means the real killer will still be out there.”
“I’m aware of that.” Dragging his hands through his short hair, Chief Colton grimaced. “Just keep digging, all right? As long as Demi is on the run, we can’t arrest her. However, if the actual murderer thinks we’ve stopped looking, he’ll get careless.”
“We can only hope.” Excusing himself, Hunter went back to his desk. His stomach growled, reminding him it was nearly dinnertime.
After collecting Goose, Hunter took her home. She went out into the backyard to take care of business, and he filled her food bowl with her usual dry kibble. With a grateful sigh, she dug in.
“I’ll be back to let you out again before I go back to work,” he told her. Like most of the other K9 officers, he’d gotten into the habit of talking to Goose as if she was a person rather than a dog. Sometimes he even felt quite certain she understood every word he said.
Knowing she’d climb up on the couch for an after-meal nap, he locked up and got back into his squad car. Usually on his dinner break, he ate either a sandwich or a TV dinner at home. Occasionally, he picked up fast food. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d sat down in a restaurant.
Everyone in town loved Pizza Heaven. Even on weeknights, the place was usually packed. He couldn’t wait. Ever since that phone conversation with Layla, he’d been alternating thinking about pizza fresh from the oven and Layla’s clear blue eyes.
A problem, considering she was engaged to another man.
When he pulled up to the restaurant, the parking lot was already nearly full. He lucked out and nabbed a spot close to the front, since another car had just backed out.
Trying to contain his eagerness, he strolled inside, dodging various small children, looking for Layla’s shining cap of blond hair.
He didn’t see her. As he surveyed the crowded, chaotic pizza parlor, he realized maybe Layla Colton would feel out of place here. He couldn’t actually picture her, in one of her tailored suits and heels, moving between the kids chasing each other and their frazzled parents trying to corral them.
Again, she managed to surprise him. When she walked through the front doors, he saw she’d changed to a pair of jeans and boots, along with a button-down cotton shirt and a fuzzy vest.
The sight of her like this nearly brought him to his knees. Beautiful didn’t even begin to describe her. Sexy and self-assured and gorgeous and sweet, all rolled into one. Lust mingled with awe as he watched her saunter toward him.
“Hey,” she said, smiling. “Have you been waiting long?”
It took him a second or two to force the words from his throat. “Nope, not at all. Let’s see if we can find a table.”
They lucked out and got one in the back, as far from the arcade area as it could be.
Once they were seated, he couldn’t keep from staring.
“Why do you keep looking at me like I’ve grown a second head?” she asked, her smile making her blue eyes sparkle.
He started to shrug, but then decided what the hell. “Because you look totally different.”
Her smile widened. “I don’t wear business clothes all the time, you know.”
And of course, that comment had him flashing back to the pic he’d seen of her in lingerie, reclining on a bed with a come-hither look on her beautiful face. Since now would be the absolute worst possible time to bring that up, he didn’t. But he resolved to ask her later who had taken that picture and how Mark Hatton might have gotten a hold of it.
The waitress came over, asking if they were ready. Though the menus were kept on the table, they hadn’t looked at them.
“Are you good with Canadian bacon and pineapple?” he asked. When she nodded, he grinned. “Just making sure you didn’t have a change of heart. One large,” he told the waitress. They also both wanted iced tea to drink.
“You two sure are simpatico,” the waitress commented, giving the thumbs-up sign. “I can’t tell you how many couples fight over what kind of pizza to get.”
Couples. Neither he nor Layla corrected her, which Hunter found amusing for whatever reason. It had been a long time since he’d been part of a couple.
Layla grimaced. “Sorry, but I refuse to explain myself any more. It’s been a long, long day.”
The waitress returned bearing two tall glasses of iced tea, both with lemon wedges stuck on the edge of the glass. Layla put one packet of artificial sweetener in hers, stirred and then took a small sip. “Perfect,” she said with a sigh. “Though I really do deserve a glass of wine. Too bad they don’t sell alcohol here.”
Curious, he decided to go ahead and ask what had happened. Not only was he genuinely interested, but he figured she might need someone to talk to.
Turned out, she did. He listened, resisting the urge to comment, while she told him about the meeting with her father and her fiancé. But when she reached the part where Hamlin had said he didn’t care if she had the hots for a twenty-two-year-old underling, he nearly choked on his iced tea. “He really said that?”
Slowly, she nodded. “I confess to being a bit shocked myself.”
He waited for her to say more, maybe something along the lines of how she now realized she couldn’t possibly marry a man like that. But when she didn’t, he figured it might be safer to change the subject.
Luckily, the waitress arrived with their pizza and two plates. “Here you go,” she said, setting it down. “Hot from the oven. Enjoy.”
Hunter couldn’t contain his glee. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had this,” he said, rubbing his hands together.
Eyeing the pizza, Layla helped herself to a slice, which meant he could, too. He inhaled the fragrant scent before taking a bite, chewing slowly so he could savor his mouthful. Once he’d swallowed, he made a sound of pleasure low in his throat. “That’s so good,” he exclaimed.
When he looked up, he realized she hadn’t touched hers. Instead, she watched him, wide-eyed. “You really enjoy your food,” she commented.
About to take another bite, he grinned. “It’s amazing. Go ahead and taste it. I promise, you’ll see what I mean.”
Without taking her eyes from him, she lifted up her pizza and took a slow bite, the way she did making it clear she intended to savor the taste.
Sensual as all get-out. Damn. Layla Colton. Who would have thought it? Arousal thrummed in his blood, though he tried to ignore it. This wasn’t a date, and he definitely shouldn’t be fantasizing about how he’d like to taste those lips of hers.
Instead, he focused on devouring his slice of pizza. He went back for a second and ate that, too, all before she’d finished her first one.
“Do you not like it?” he asked.
“Oh, I do. But I have to be careful eating stuff like this,” she replied, unable to keep from eyeing the rest of the pizza with a wistful expression.
“Go for it. You deserve it.”
Though she shook her head, she took another slice.
Once they’d demolished the pizza—well, once mostly he’d demolished the pizza—they sat back and sipped on their iced tea. The waitress returned to ask if they wanted dessert, and when they said no, she left the check.
Both Layla and Hunter reached for it at the same time.
“My treat,” she insisted. “After all, I’m the one who invited you.”
“For coffee. Not pizza. This was my idea.”
When she still hesitated, he gently slid the check out from under her hand. “How about I get it this time and you can get it the next?”
One perfectly arched brow rose. “Oh, is there going to be a next time?”
His answer came easily. “Of course. How can there not? You’re the only other person I know who likes this pizza.”
“You’re really into food,” she observed. “You must have a fast metabolism.”
“I am and I do. In fact, I’m looking forward to Thanksgiving,” Hunter said. “It’s my favorite holiday. So much food. I can’t wait.”
Instead of replying, she only smiled and shook her head.
After he left a generous tip on the table, they headed to the cashier so he could pay.
“Where’d you park?” he asked. Darkness had already fallen, and the breeze carried a hint of the winter yet to come.
She pointed. “I’m in the overflow lot across the street. There weren’t any spots left close up.”
Glancing across the street, he saw one of the tall streetlights had gone out. But the rest of the lot appeared well lit. And this was a safe part of town.
But still...
“I’ll walk you to your car.”
“You don’t have to,” she started to say, but she stopped when he shook his head.
“I know,” he told her. “But I’m going to anyway.”
Though she shrugged, he could tell by the slight curve of her lips that she was pleased.
He wanted to take her hand. Instead, he settled on taking her arm. She flashed a startled look his way but didn’t comment.
Looking both ways, they started to cross the street.
The sound of an engine gunning and tires squealing alerted him seconds before the car came roaring around the corner. Layla froze. Hunter’s survival instincts kicked in and he shoved her hard, sending them both flying out of harm’s way.
Adrenaline pumping, he pushed to his feet, rounding to try to see the car. He fully intended to chew the driver out for his or her careless behavior.
The car had reached the end of the short street. To Hunter’s disbelief, it swung around, pulling a U-turn and once again heading straight for them.
“Run,” he shouted, snagging Layla’s arm and hauling her along with him. They leaped for the curb, over the sidewalk and into the relative safety of the crowded parking lot just as the car raced past.
“Die, bitch,” someone—a man—shouted as the car went by. Hunter tried to make out the license plate but couldn’t.
With a flash of brake lights, the vehicle disappeared around the corner.
Breathing fast, Layla swayed. “That was deliberate,” she said, closing her eyes. “Someone just tried to kill me.”