Page 27 of Relentless

A moment later, another officer joined his side. He was an older man with a handlebar mustache draped over his upper lip. There was a sheriff’s badge pinned on his olive green button-up shirt.

“Angus, this the one?”

The deputy signaled with a nod, and the sheriff stepped forward, taking charge.

“I’m Sheriff Daniels,” he stated. His voice was calm, but Harper noted that he kept his hand securely on his firearm.

“There was no need to callthem,“ Harper sputtered, again digging through her purse. She whipped out her wallet, causing the contents to chaotically clatter onto the floor. “It’s not a crime to have your cards bounce.” Her heartbeat thumpedquickly in her chest, causing her words to come fast. “Look, I have more.” Stooping down, she picked one up. “I’m sure this one will work.” She pushed it across the counter at the young man, who was now distancing himself entirely from the situation unfolding.

Sheriff Daniels picked up her driver’s license from the cards scattered across the desk. “I’m not a fan of people disrespecting my deputies, Mrs —” he paused to read her identification, “Davenport.”

“That’s not a crime either — last I checked,” Harper’s voice trailed off.

The sheriff handed the license to his Deputy. “Well, you’re right about that,” he replied with an even tone honed from decades of public service. “But public intoxication is, and I think I might just take you for a ride down to county.” He exchanged looks with his Deputy. “What say you, Angus?”

“We’ll find a real cozy corner where you can sober up,” Angus sneered, resting his hands on his belt.“Ma’am,”

Harper’s eyes flew wide as she gulped down the bile that started to climb up her throat. “You must be joking.”

“You hotshot tourists think you can come out here and do whatever you want,” Sheriff Daniels scolded, pulling the handcuffs off his belt. “Well, this isn’t Hippie Town, and we have a zero-tolerance policy.” He swiveled to his Deputy and wagged his finger. “You know this is thatOakleigh’sfault.”

“Now, wait — get your hands off of me,” Harper hissed, feeling her anxiety take the wheel. She raised her palms, stepping back until she pressed into the countertop behind her.

Before she could utter another word, the Deputy spun her around and twisted her arm behind her back.

“Ouch, you’re hurting me!” She felt the metal cuffs pinch tightly around her wrists. The words that came next didn’t feel like they were her own. Never in her wildest nightmares would she have relied on the information she desperately offered in her defense.

“You said, Oakleigh,” she attempted to earnestly reason. “She’s my daughter.”

“Well, that ain’t helping your case,” Sheriff Daniels calmly countered.

“My sister — just listen to me for a second,” she begged, feeling the handcuff lock over her remaining free wrist. Even though the industrial airport air conditioner was blowing ice cold, she felt sweat gathering at her temples, and the room began to spin once again. She clenched her eyes shut, offering her last defense. “My sister is Maeve, she’s got a big farm close to here.”

“Stop a second, Angus,” Sheriff Daniels ordered, running his fingers down the edges of his mustache.

Harper flipped around to face him.

“Maeve Callaway?” he deadpanned.

“Yes,” Harper gasped, hoping to feel the sip of air reach her lungs. “She’s my sister.”

The sheriff paced a few steps before exchanging another long glance with his Deputy. “Why does that not surprise me in the slightest?” he grumbled through clenched teeth. “Better get Maeve on the phone.”

Angus pulled out his phone and scrolled through his contacts. When he found the one he was looking for, he handed it off to the sheriff.

“She’s on her honeymoon, you know,” Sheriff Daniels huffed. “She ain’t going to like this one bit.”

He gestured to his Deputy. “Angus, get her in lockup and keep a close eye,” he barked. “I’ll straighten this out with Maeve.”

“— and lady,” he paused, pointing his finger directly in Harper’s face. “I’m hoping she has no idea who you are.”

Chapter 9

Terrible Ornery Thing

Maeve pulled the truck door closed and felt Dallas take her hand. It was a familiar routine she was becoming accustomed to. Their trip was winding to a close, and she was intent on enjoying every last moment before returning to her responsibilities at the ranch.

He steered the truck toward the restaurant where their reservation was waiting. Closing her eyes, she listened to the country bluegrass music twanging through the speakers.

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