Page 61 of Best Laid Plans

"She refused a breathalyzer, asking for a blood test, which was smart 'cause Pete had already…well, you know."

I knew. He'd fixed it so it would look like Nova was drunk. And I knew she hadn't been drinking anything but iced tea.

"Where is she?"

"He threw her in a cell," he whispered, "and by that, I mean fuckin' threw her, Anson. She doesn't deserve that kind of treatment. No one does. I know she's workin' for Larue Homes, and you and Pete bein' friends, I thought—"

"I'll be there. Just…just make sure he doesn't hurt her." My heart sank, and a cold fury settled over me. Pete Fontaine had crossed the line. Again.

Worry gnawed at me as I drove to the sheriff's office with a singular focus. By the time I arrived, I was seething. The sight of Pete standing smugly behind his desk only fueled my anger.

"Where is she, Pete?" I demanded, my voice low and dangerous.

Pete looked up, unfazed. "She's being processed. She refused a breathalyzer."

I clenched my fists, struggling to keep my temper in check. "This is bullshit, Pete, and you know it. She had dinner with me, and she didn't drink any fuckin' alcohol."

He stepped out from behind his desk, squaring up to me. "I'm Sheriff, and I determined that it looked like she'd been drinkin'. And now she wants a blood test, so we're waitin' on—"

Without thinking, I swung at him, my fist connecting with his jaw. The office erupted into chaos, and Jim and a uniformed officer rushed to separate us. Pete stumbled back, wiping blood from his lip, his eyes dark with anger.

"I'm in my right to arrest you," Pete bellowed. "So, get the hell outta here, Anson, before I do."

"Fuck you." I walked to him, shrugging off Jim. "You're done, Sheriff. I'll make it my life's work to get you the fuck outta this uniform and this office."

Fear and anger battled on Pete's face. He wouldn't arrest me. He knew that would destroy him.

"Jim, take me to her," I ordered.

I followed the deputy and headed toward the holding cells.

When I saw her, my heart broke. She was sitting on the floor, her knees drawn up to her chest, her eyes wide and filled with fear. She looked so small and vulnerable, a stark contrast to the strong, determined woman I knew.

"Open this fucking thing," I snapped, and Jim did as I asked.

Nova looked up at me, scared, broken.

"Hey, Sugar." I kneeled beside her.

"Anson." Her voice shook. She was just this side of a breakdown. I sat beside her and pulled her onto my lap, holding her, feeling the rightness of her against me, surrounding me. This was my woman, the love of my fucking life. At that moment, I didn't care that she betrayed me; I didn't care about the past. She was hurting now, and I wanted to make it better.

I pulled out my cell phone and felt her tears against my neck.

I dialed a number.

"Anson?" I heard Charlie Barnett's sleepy voice. "It's fuckin' late. Is this a jailhouse call?"

"Sort of," I said. "I need you to get to the sheriff's now. Pete arrested a…friend of mine 'cause he's pissed with me. I need you to get her out asap."

"What's he got her on?"

"Bogus drunk driving. She didn't take a breathalyzer, which was smart, 'cause he rigged it and asked for a blood test. He threw in jail."

"What the fuck? Give me five. I'm on my way." Charlie hung up.

He lived in Sentinel and since it was a small fucking town, he'd be here in no time

I rocked Nova as she shook. "I got you, Sugar," I crooned. "I'm here with you. Not lettin' you go."

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