Page 8 of Just Let Go

“How’d you get into Hazel’s this morning? Looked like they were closed.”

“Betsy let a few of her regulars in through the back door. Nate and his brothers and Ryan Brooks are all in there cleaning the place up. She’ll be back up and running in no time.” Now a sideways glance at Grady, who quickly looked away.

The front door swung open and another officer walked in. He was tall and thick, and didn’t appear to be in any kind of hurry. Grady supposed that was the difference between this small town in Michigan and every other place he was used to spending time.

Except home. Home had that same relaxed feel—a certain kind of nonchalance he hadn’t felt anywhere else. At least it used to. But that was years ago. Mostly, the thought of going back was about as appealing as a root canal.

What he needed was to get out of here so he could go back to training, competing, and proving to the rest of the world that he wasn’t what they said he was—a disappointment.

“Quinn Collins.” The deputy eyed the blonde as he approached.

She straightened. “Hey, Deputy Jones.”

“How’s it looking outside?” The sheriff stepped in front of Quinn, protectively, almost like he didn’t want his deputy anywhere around her. And who could blame him? Grady had spent ten seconds in the same room with this guy, and already he could tell he was a pig.

“It’s a mess.” He turned to Grady. “Quite a disaster you’ve caused out there.”

Grady glared at the guy but said nothing.

“Quinn, why don’t you wait for me in my office?” the sheriff asked.

She glanced at Grady, barely, avoided the deputy’s gaze, and did as she was told.

Once she’d gone, the deputy pulled his handcuffs out. “Judge wants to see him now. Should I parade him out front so the press can get a great shot of their former hero in all his glory?”

“You do that and you don’t need to bother coming in tomorrow. That’s not how we do things around here, Deputy Jones.”

“Lighten up, Sheriff. I was just kidding.”

The sheriff looked at Grady. “Walker here will take you through the back way. Probably still going to be press in that courtroom, but something tells me you’re used to that.”

Grady gave a slight nod. “Can I call my manager again?”

The sheriff glanced at Walker, who didn’t move, but then pulled a cordless phone off the desk and handed it to Grady. He dialed Pete’s number and turned away, willing his manager to pick up.

No luck. At the sound of the tone, Grady sighed. “Pete. Where are you, man? I’m in some trouble. I need you to get here and handle this mess. Harbor Pointe, Michigan. I have to be in Colorado tomorrow. There’s another race this weekend and I need the points. ... I’m running out of time, man, and I’ve got to get back on that team. Get out here, Pete. Today.”

He clicked the phone off and handed it back to the sheriff.

Walker stuck a key in the cell door and pulled it open, motioning for Grady to turn around so he could cuff him.

“Is that really necessary?” Grady asked.

“I saw the video,” the deputy said. “Don’t want you taking a swing at me.”

The sheriff stepped away. “I’ll be over in a few minutes. Just need to finish talking with my daughter.”

His daughter. That made sense. Grady glanced up and saw the girl sitting on the desk in the office where her father had been when Grady first woke up. She had absolutely no expression on her face, as if she didn’t have a single thought about the mess he’d caused. That or she didn’t have a single thought about him.

Either way, what did it matter? He was on his way to finding out how much he had to pay so he could get out of this place, and it wasn’t likely he’d be coming back anytime soon.

Walker must’ve caught him staring at the blonde—Quinn—because he gave his arm a jerk. “She’s off-limits.”

Grady looked away but said nothing. Usually with guys like this—guys who had something to prove—Grady did better when he kept his mouth shut.

Which he almost never did. Today he would, but only because he was already in trouble and couldn’t afford to tick anyone else off.

Walker pulled him through a back door of the station and out into a parking lot. “Nobody comes back here. Not even those reporters you brought with you.”

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