Ever After (Love to the Rescue Book 3) (2 page)

“Mornin’ sunshine,” came a low, male voice.

She squinted up at Deputy Hot Stuff himself and…ah, Jesus, her head.

“Sleep well?” he asked, as the cell door clanged open.

“Just peachy.” She sat up and rubbed her eyes.

He set two aspirin and a paper cup filled with water beside her.

“Oh, my God, thank you. I take back all the awful things I thought about you last night.” She swallowed the aspirin and gulped the water greedily.

“Awful things, huh?” He didn’t look like he’d been home—or slept—since last night either. His cheeks had darkened with stubble, and his eyes were weary.

“All forgotten.” She leaned her head against the wall and looked at him. It hurt to focus her eyes, but no, her perception hadn’t been altered by the margaritas. Deputy Sampson was one fine-looking officer of the law.

He stood tall and strong with olive skin, brown hair cut short and neat, and eyes as dark as coal. If he hadn’t been the one to throw her in jail, she’d have definitely tried to get his number—or rather, get him to ask for hers.

He stepped back and motioned her to follow. She stifled another groan as she stood. Every bone and muscle in her body ached. And her head felt like someone was in there with an ice pick chiseling away at the backs of her eyes.

She gazed longingly at the ladies’ room as he guided her down the hall, and he stopped with a sigh.

“Go on. Five minutes to freshen up. Don’t make me wait.”

“Thank you,” she whispered, and darted inside. She made quick use of the facilities, then splashed cold water on her face and rinsed out her mouth. It wasn’t much, but she felt slightly rejuvenated when she rejoined him in the hall.

He led her next door to the courthouse but stopped her outside the courtroom. He turned those ebony eyes on hers. “Let’s get one thing clear before we go in there. I can’t charge you with DUI since I didn’t catch you behind the wheel, but unless you want to tell me who was out there with you last night, I’m left to assume you drove yourself. You ever have to walk up to someone’s front door and tell them their loved one is dead? Killed by a drunk driver?”

Jesus Christ.
“No.”

“If I ever catch you driving under the influence, I will throw the book at you. Are we clear?”

“Crystal.” The full implications of her predicament slammed into her sleep-deprived brain. She had not driven drunk last night, and if her jackass friends hadn’t run off and left her to face the music alone, he might even believe her.

Well, she’d cover for Terence and Kristi for now, since the whole thing had been her idea and she’d done all the spray-painting herself, but if the sheriff’s office tried to pin any kind of DUI charge on her, she’d fess up. No way was she going down for a crime she hadn’t committed.

She’d never driven drunk. Not even close. If Terence hadn’t agreed to be her designated driver, she wouldn’t have even been there last night.

“Olivia?”

She turned at the sound of her father’s voice. John Bennett stood outside the door to the courtroom, looking distinguished in a steel-gray suit, a black leather briefcase in his right hand, his expression stern. So he’d gotten her message.

Of course he had. She’d purposefully called his cell, knowing he turned it off when he went to bed, not wanting to face him in the middle of the night, half drunk and drowning in self-pity.

“I need a moment with my client, deputy,” he said.

Deputy Sampson’s eyebrows raised. Yeah, her dad was a big-shot local defense attorney, and no doubt her favorite deputy had just connected the dots between their shared last name. With a slight shake of his head, he walked away.

Inside the courtroom, Olivia’s cheeks burned as she spotted her mother seated in the front row behind the defense table, her blond hair carefully styled in a sleek bob. She wore a black dress suit and offered Olivia a pinched smile.

God, this was humiliating.

Olivia sat behind the defense table, her back prickling under the weight of her mother’s stare. She could imagine their conversation after this was over.
Well you really screwed up this time, didn’t you, Olivia?

Fighting the urge to hang her head, Olivia pleaded guilty to misdemeanor trespass and Willful and Wanton Injury to Property. John Bennett made his case to the judge for her good character and spotless record, while the prosecutor attempted to paint her as a troublemaker whose vendetta against Halverson Foods had escalated to breaking the law.

“Miss Bennett,” Judge Gonzalez said. He looked down at her from behind black-rimmed glasses. “I must say that it is refreshing to have a defendant in my court who takes responsibility for her actions without making excuses. And your otherwise exemplary record in the community makes a strong statement for your character. I do, however, have some concerns about your history with Halverson Foods.

“Therefore, I am ordering you to make restitution by removing your graffiti from their property, and I’m placing you on a thirty-day probation, at which time we will reconvene here in this courtroom. If you’ve kept yourself out of trouble and demonstrated that you’ve learned your lesson, the charges will be dropped and your record will remain unblemished.”

Olivia’s knees wobbled in relief. No criminal record. She could absolutely stay out of trouble for the next thirty days. In fact, she never intended to find herself on the wrong side of the law again.

After the formalities had been worked out, her dad walked her out of the courtroom a free woman. “I’ve got to get to the office, Livvy. Do you need a ride home?”

Her friend Merry Atwater waved from across the crowded hallway, catching Olivia’s eye. “No, I’m good. And thank you. Really.”

“Any time, honey. But let’s try to make this the last time we meet under these circumstances, okay?” He squeezed her shoulder and headed for the exit. Her mom, she noticed, had already left. She felt a pang in her chest—relief, or disappointment. She wasn’t sure which.

Ten minutes later, she was in the passenger seat of Merry’s SUV, headed home.

“Worst birthday ever.” She burrowed into the upholstery and closed her eyes.

Merry snorted. “Definitely not your finest moment. What in the world made you decide to go out and spray-paint that place?”

“I had a few drinks, and it sounded like a good idea.” Turning twenty-nine had put her into a bit of a tailspin. It meant there was less than a year left before she needed to get her act together and decide once and for all if she was going to finish law school.

Start acting like a grown-up.

Instead she’d decided to do something reckless and childish. If this went on her permanent record, she might have ruined her chances of returning to law school anyway, and well, she’d be pissed if she didn’t get to make that decision for herself.

“Sweetie, nothing that started with ‘I had a few drinks, and it sounded like a good idea’ has ever ended well. The next time you break the law, make sure you do it sober, okay?”

Olivia scrunched her nose. “The next time?”

“Not that I advocate breaking the law, but I have been known to squeeze between the cracks when the welfare of an animal is at stake.”

“Really? You?” Olivia couldn’t imagine her straight-as-an-arrow friend breaking the law. Merry worked as a pediatric nurse and ran an animal rescue group in her spare time.

“Ask Cara to tell you what
really
happened to those dogs on Keeney Street sometime.” Merry slanted her a look.

Olivia gasped. “You didn’t.”

Those two dogs, unwanted and neglected, had mysteriously disappeared from their owner’s backyard after Animal Control refused to seize them.

Her friend shrugged. “Maybe I did, and maybe I didn’t. Maybe they’re living at a sanctuary in Virginia these days. Who knows?”

“Okay, I’m impressed. But at least you saved their lives. I didn’t do a damn thing for the chickens at that factory. All I did is have a terrible birthday and possibly screw up my future with a criminal record.”

“Well, take it from a pro: we all do dumb shit sometimes.”

The problem was, Olivia tended to do dumb shit
most
of the time. Her parents were probably right; she was never going to get her act together. Here she was a grown woman and still acting like a teenager.

Merry pulled into the driveway of her house. Well, Olivia’s house now, sort of. Merry had recently moved in with her boyfriend and was renting her house to Olivia for dirt cheap on the condition that she foster for Merry’s boxer rescue.

Consequently, Olivia now had a three-bedroom bungalow to call home and two foster dogs she was responsible to feed and take care of until they were adopted.

“I stopped by to walk them before I came to the courthouse,” Merry said, as she led the way to the front door. “Bailey had peed in the kitchen again.”

“Ugh, Bailey.” Olivia pointed a finger at the dog as they walked into the kitchen. Bailey leaped at her in response, tail nub wagging. Then Scooby was pushing in for his turn, both of them barking and licking her for attention.

“I’ll take care of them. You look like you need a shower,” Merry said.

“Oh, my gosh, thank you.” She glanced down at herself, still red-stained with paint. Her hair was greasy, and her mouth tasted like an old sock.

Wearily, she went upstairs. She brushed her teeth, then sat on the edge of the tub and scrubbed herself with nail polish remover until the majority of the paint had come off. She took a long, hot shower and, feeling like a whole new person, came downstairs to find the dogs gated in the kitchen and a note from Merry.

Had to get home to Jayden so T.J. could go to work. Call me later.

Merry, confirming her status as a responsible adult, was fostering baby Jayden while his birth mother finished up her time on probation and tried to earn back custody.

Olivia headed for the fridge and poured herself a glass of water, which she gulped between bites of bran muffin. Her poor brain was too tired and sore to figure out the solution, but her long-term problem hadn’t changed. She needed to see the Halverson Foods chicken-processing plant shut down.

Never mind that the sheriff’s office would be watching her back or that she was required to clean her graffiti off the damn chicken factory. She’d seen the video footage of the workers inside beating and otherwise abusing the chickens before they were slaughtered.

That wasn’t okay, and she couldn’t rest until she’d put an end to it.

Just let sexy Deputy Sampson try to stop her.

Olivia dropped her head to the table with a groan. She wasn’t a coffee drinker—green smoothies were more her style—but she was going to need caffeine to make it through her shift at the Main Street Café. If only she could summon the energy to get up and fix herself a cup of tea.

Not happening.

She shuffled to the fridge for her emergency stash, hidden in the back of the empty meat drawer so that it wouldn’t tempt her. Her fingers closed over its cold, smooth surface, and she let out a sigh of relief.

Diet Coke.

An addiction she’d kicked years ago, but she always kept one can on hand, just in case, for moments like this. She popped the top and took a long gulp.

Heaven.

She guzzled the whole can, then dropped it in her recycling bin and shooed the dogs out the back door. While they romped in the yard, she went upstairs to do her makeup and get ready for work. It took copious amounts of concealer to hide the shadows under her eyes.

Thirty minutes later, she clocked in at the Main Street Café.

“Tom wants to see you before you start your shift,” Marla commented as Olivia tucked her purse into her cubby in the break room.

“Really?” A niggle of worry lodged in her stomach.

Tom Hancock owned the café, and
shit
. Was it possible word had already gotten out about her arrest?

She found him in the hallway outside the kitchen. He gave her a broad smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. Tom was a kind man and a fair boss, but he ran a tight ship. If you screwed up, you were out.

And Olivia had screwed up. Big time.

“Morning, Liv,” he said. “I won’t waste time because I know you need to get started out there. I heard you were arrested last night.”

She nodded. Oh, how she hoped she wasn’t about to get fired.

“I’m going to give you a warning because you’re a good employee, but as a practice, I don’t hire anyone with a record. Keep yourself out of trouble from now on, you hear? If I get any complaints from the customers or you find yourself in the custody of Dogwood’s finest again, I’ll have to let you go. Are we clear?”

“Crystal,” she answered for the second time that morning. Her hands fisted inside the pocket of her apron. “It won’t happen again.”

S
neakers squeaked against the polished floors of the Dogwood Community Recreation Center. A ball swooshed through the hoop, and the air filled with yells and cheers. Zach Hill, one of the youngest and shortest at thirteen, clenched his fists at the other team’s success.

Pete watched from the sidelines. He’d stopped by the rec center to drop off some pamphlets on the Junior Deputy program for high school students interested in a career in law enforcement, but when he’d spotted Zach on the court, he’d lingered for a few minutes to watch the boy play.

Since losing his dad to a drunk driver three years ago, Zach had struggled to control his temper. It was hard for a kid growing up without a father figure to look up to. Pete should know.

“Yo, Pete!” Steve Barnes, the rec center’s director, clapped him on the back. “Good to see you. How’s your momma these days? Haven’t seen her at church recently.”

“She’s doing well, thanks.” The truth was, she got by. She hadn’t been quite right since his father’s arrest, but then, who could blame her?

“Well, you tell her to stop by this Sunday. I’ll save her a seat.” Steve’s eyes crinkled as he smiled. He was a widower going on five years now, and Pete got the sudden feeling Steve’s interest in his mom might go a little farther than friendship.

He shoved his hands into his pockets. “I’ll do that.”

“Hey, you played soccer in school, didn’t you?”

“I did.”

Steve nodded toward the boys on the court. “I’ve got this bunch three afternoons a week. You know, keep ’em busy, keep ’em out of trouble. But I’m short a coach on Tuesdays. Don’t suppose you’d want to help us out?”

Pete watched as Zach shot the ball and missed. He shrugged. “My schedule’s pretty unpredictable. Hard for me to commit.”

“I hear you, man. You working next Tuesday?”

“I’m off at three.”

“Help me out just this once? I’m really in a bind.”

Pete knew the game. He might even be a decent coach. He looked over at Zach, saw the boy stalk off the court. “Just this once.”

“Great. See you Tuesday around four.”

Pete agreed and walked out to his car, ready to go home and kick back with some college football. His alma mater, NC State, was playing Virginia Tech tonight. He never missed a chance to cheer for his Wolfpack, even if it was from the comfort of his couch.

First though, he had one other bit of business to take care of. Well, not business exactly. He got in his cruiser and drove thirty minutes to nearby Raleigh. His GPS guided him to the brown-paneled apartment building where Derek Johnson lived. Derek was a K9 officer in the Raleigh PD and an acquaintance of Pete’s.

He got out of his car and walked toward the second apartment on the right, number 109. Derek opened the front door and said something—probably hello—but his words were lost to the deafening din of a dog barking from within.

Pete flinched. What the hell had he gotten himself into? He followed Derek inside and found the source of the noise, a large German shepherd sitting in the middle of the living room. The dog bounded forward to greet Pete, thrusting his snout into Pete’s palm for affection.

“Hey, buddy,” Pete said.

“So this is Timber,” Derek said. “Thanks so much for taking him, man.”

Pete looked down at the dog. Timber sat at his feet and stared back through brown eyes brimming with intelligence and personality. He had flunked out of the Raleigh PD K9 program last week and had been staying with Derek since. Pete had agreed to adopt Timber to keep him from being dumped at the shelter. “Hell of a time for me to take him. I’m covering for Alvarez this week; I’ve barely been home.”

“I know. I’m sorry I couldn’t keep him for you until the weekend, but my landlord complained about the barking. He had to go tonight.” Derek picked up a leash from the catch-all table near the door.

“All right then.” Pete took the leash and clipped it to Timber’s collar. Derek gathered the rest of Timber’s things and walked out with them to Pete’s car.

Pete loaded Timber into the back of the cruiser and filled the trunk with the dog’s belongings, such as they were. He’d have to make a trip to the pet store when he had a chance, which wouldn’t be any time in the next few days.

As they pulled out of the parking lot, the dog let out a high-pitched whine that made Pete wince.

“Easy there, Timberwolf.” He hadn’t hesitated to take in the dog when he’d heard about his predicament. Dogs who flunked out of K9 training were hard to place outside of law enforcement, and besides, Pete figured he could use the company. The house was feeling a bit lonely these days, since the divorce.

When they got home, he took Timber for a walk to calm him down. The dog had whined pretty much nonstop since they left Derek’s apartment. Inside, Pete poured a bowl of kibble for Timber and fixed himself a sandwich, then kicked back on the couch with a beer and his new dog and turned on the TV. The Wolfpack were up by seven. He let out a whoop.

An answering woof came from the German shepherd at his side. Timber raised his wolfish head and looked at the TV, then at Pete.

“Go Pack,” Pete told him.

Timber howled in agreement.

“You know it, buddy. You’re a good luck charm for the Pack, Timberwolf.”

Pete snapped a picture of Timber with his cell phone and texted it to his sister Maggie, who was no doubt dying for an update by now. His phone rang almost immediately.

“He’s so handsome!” Maggie gushed. “How is he doing?”

“So far so good.”

“I’m so jealous. I want a dog,” his sister said.

“Then get one.”

“Maybe I will,” she answered. “In the meantime, can I come over tomorrow after work and meet Timber?”

Pete glanced over at the shepherd on his couch. The dog stared back with his ever-watchful eyes. “Sure.”

“I’ll bring wings from Jimmy’s.”

“Perfect.”

He said good night to his sister and headed upstairs to call it an early night. Pete had worked thirty of the last forty-eight hours and was dead on his feet. He was covering a few shifts for Jimena Alvarez this week while her family vacationed at Disney World. As one of the few deputies without a family, he often volunteered to cover extra shifts. The extra experience, not to mention a few extra bucks, never hurt.

Last week, he’d taken the detective exam. It was something he’d wanted for a long time, the next step in his career. The sheriff would be promoting one of his deputies at the end of the year, and Pete wanted that spot. Except he hadn’t officially applied for the position yet. The interview process would put a spotlight on his past and his family…

He squeezed away a day’s worth of tension in the back of his neck and fell into bed, exhausted. The bed shook as eighty pounds of German shepherd hopped in next to him. Pete was too tired to object. As long as the dog didn’t try to spoon him, they’d be just fine.

Timber, as it turned out, wasn’t the problem. Restless, Pete eventually found himself back downstairs, updating paperwork until his eyes crossed. Sometime in the wee hours of the night, he dropped back into bed and drifted off to sleep.

He woke to the blaring of the alarm and four large paws on his back.

Timber woofed in his ear, then leaped to the floor.

“Who needs an alarm clock when I have you?” he grumbled. He staggered to his feet and stepped straight into a burning hot shower.

Thirty minutes later, he was dressed and on the road. He stopped in at the sheriff’s office for an extra cup of coffee and to turn in some paperwork.

“Yo,” Hartzler called from behind his desk. “Heard you caught our little vandal out at the Halverson plant night before last.”

“Yeah.” He’d caught her, in both senses of the word. He tried and failed to suppress the memory of Olivia Bennett in his arms after she’d tumbled from her ladder.

“Typical. You get the cute blonde, and I get the bar brawl. Ted lost two more teeth,” Hartzler said.

“Ouch.”

Ted Hackett, mid-forties and headed nowhere fast, had spent more than a few nights as their guest, sleeping it off after a bar fight. Pete couldn’t help but be glad Ted hadn’t been arrested this time and spent the night in the pen with Olivia.

Then again, one whiff of his whiskey breath might have been enough to scare her straight. A girl like Olivia had too much going for her to waste it with stunts like the one she’d pulled the other night.

Sheriff Linburgh poked his head out of his office. “Got a minute?”

“Absolutely.” He followed his boss inside.

The sheriff closed the door behind him and motioned for Pete to sit. “That girl you arrested at the Halverson plant the other night—what’s your read on her?”

“She’s an animal rights activist who thinks slaughtering chickens is animal abuse.”

“Animal rights activist. Hmm.” Sheriff Linburgh tapped his pen against the blotter on his desk. “You know, someone cut loose a bunch of Frank Holloway’s cows last month. Think it could be related?”

Pete’s gut instinct said no, but he kept his mouth shut. He didn’t know a damn thing about Olivia Bennett other than that she’d broken the law night before last and that he couldn’t help but think about her long legs in those tight jeans. “Not sure. I’ll take a look at the files.”

“Do that. We have several open vandalism cases that I’d like to see closed. Find out if any of it is related. And in the meantime, keep a close eye on Olivia Bennett. She seems like a troublemaker, that one.”

“You know her?” Pete’s instincts rose to attention.

“I know her type.” The sheriff stood, indicating their conversation was over.

Pete walked out of the office, an uneasy feeling in his gut. He’d keep a close eye on Olivia all right. In fact, one of his first orders of business today was to swing by and make sure she was out there removing her graffiti from that chicken factory.

As Pete pulled into the Halverson Foods parking lot, two things struck him at once. One, Olivia Bennett was not alone. And two, the sight of her gave him a thrill he had no business feeling about a woman he’d arrested night before last.

She was again at the top of the ladder, this time with a paper mask over her face, an aerosol can in one hand, dirty rag in the other, scrubbing her graffiti from the side of the building. A woman was on a ladder beside her, helping with the task as a man stood on the ground between them, holding their ladders steady.

Chump. Letting the women do all the work.

Several Halverson workers lingered near the back entrance of the building, smoking cigarettes and watching them work. At the sound of Pete’s cruiser crunching across the gravel lot, they hightailed it back inside. Olivia and her friends turned in his direction and stared. He cut the engine and stepped out.

Olivia came down the ladder, tugged the mask around her neck, and stood with her hands on her hips as he approached. Her friends hustled over to their car and made a show of getting bottles of water from a cooler in the trunk.

Not too eager to talk to him. Maybe they were the ones who’d been here with her the night she was arrested. Maybe he ought to go have a chat with them after he was finished with Olivia.

“Come to check up on me?” she asked.

“As a matter of fact.”

Her eyes were hidden behind oversized sunglasses, her hair pulled back in a loose ponytail. Sweat had beaded on her upper lip. Despite it being the first week of October, the temperature here in North Carolina had spiked into the mid-eighties, and she looked sun-baked in a red tank top and black shorts.

“Well you can report back that I’m doing what I’m supposed to.”

“So I see.” His gaze drifted to the swell of her breasts, the cleavage peeking from the lacy trim of her top. He yanked his eyes back to her face. “Hope it’s the last time I catch you out here.”

She let out a sound of frustration. “I’ll try to keep myself in line from now on.”

“See that you do.”

“Seriously?” Her voice rose. “I don’t need a lecture, deputy. Spray-painting this place may have been a stupid idea, but they’ve been abusing chickens in there for years, and no one has done anything to stop it.”

“I hate to break it to you, but some animals eat other animals. Nature isn’t always pretty. Halverson Foods is no different, but that doesn’t make it abuse. People eat chickens. Always have, always will.”

She sucked in a breath, and her cheeks bloomed red. “Yes, but that doesn’t give the men in there the right to torture them before they’re slaughtered. All living beings deserve our respect, even if they’re destined for your dinner plate. The birds who come here are beaten and tormented needlessly, and that, Deputy Sampson, is abuse.”

She spun on her heel and stalked off toward the ladder, leaving him at an uncharacteristic loss for words.

“Look it up if you don’t believe me,” she called over her shoulder. “Google ‘Citizens Against Halverson Foods.’ If the undercover videos don’t make you sick to your stomach, then feel free to judge me. But I hope you’re not that heartless.”

Heartless? No, he had a heart. It might be withered and hardened beyond recognition, but it was in there. “And how did spray-painting this place help the chickens?”

She paused at the base of the ladder and gave him a discerning look. “Well see, that’s the stupid part. It didn’t. And I’ve learned my lesson, I promise.”

“Glad to hear it.”

In fact, Olivia Bennett had just shocked the hell out of him. He’d had all manner of insults hurled his way in the line of duty. But not often did someone, much less a woman he’d recently arrested, stand up to him with such eloquence or intelligence while at the same time taking responsibility for her misdeed.

Olivia Bennett was much more than a pretty face. She intrigued him in ways that weren’t purely professional, and that was a problem. He couldn’t allow his judgment to be clouded by personal feelings, not by Olivia or anyone else. Not ever again.

Olivia gulped a breath and held it, waiting for the lecture, or worse, the cuffs. Because surely telling off a sheriff’s deputy like she’d just done was a no-no.