stock to rise. Why would Mark Hatton make false accusations that could jeopardize the company he worked for? If Colton Energy went under, he’d lose his job along with all the others. As would she.
To Layla, working for the family business was more than just employment. Her job, the company, was her entire life. Without it, she had no idea what she’d do.
The drive to the Red Ridge police station seemed to take forever. She ran over a hundred different scenarios in her mind, discarding each one. She had to get this straightened out before her father learned of it.
Finally, they pulled up to the back of the building. The place where she suspected they brought people in to book them. Embarrassment flooded her, even though she’d done nothing to be ashamed about.
“Come with me,” the tall officer said, helping her from the back of the car. He took her arm and led her, still handcuffed, inside.
Due to the lateness of the hour, the squad room seemed deserted. Only a skeleton crew worked these hours, apparently. Lucky for her, as that meant fewer people to stare. She wasn’t particularly close with any of her cousins on the force, even the chief of the K9 unit.
“I’d like my phone call now,” she announced, trying to keep her tone cheery and optimistic.
The officer barely even glanced at her. “Not yet. I’ll let you know when.”
“Layla? Layla Colton?”
She froze. She knew that voice. Hunter Black. He’d been a VP at Colton Energy—and one of her father’s favorites—when he’d abruptly quit to attend the police academy so he could work in law enforcement. Though at least eighteen months had passed since Hunter’s departure, her father still occasionally mentioned him, mocking his decision as unwise. Police officers only made a third of the salary Hunter had pulled in as an executive.
“Hunter.” Slowly she turned, keeping her face expressionless. As before, a buzz of awareness skittered across her skin at the sight of him. He still wore his reddish-brown hair the same way, kind of spiky. And his bright blue eyes still crinkled at the corners.
Of course his gaze immediately went to her bound wrists. “Why are you in cuffs? Are you under arrest?” He glared at the officer still holding her arm. “What the hell is going on?”
Though she kept her shoulders back as the two officers filled Hunter in, she braced herself for Hunter’s reaction. He’d made no secret of his distaste for everyone and everything to do with Colton Energy before he’d left. The other executives had joked about how he certainly knew how to burn his bridges.
To her shock, after hearing her charges, Hunter looked pissed. Not at her. He glared at his coworkers. “Why was I kept in the dark about this?” he demanded. “Is it because I used to work with her?”
One of the men shrugged. The other nodded. “We couldn’t take a chance on you trying to influence our investigation.”
Judging from the rigid set of Hunter’s jaw, he didn’t appreciate that statement at all.
“Now if you don’t mind, we need to book her.”
“Knock yourself out,” Hunter replied. To Layla’s disappointment, he turned and started to walk away. But he’d barely taken a few steps when he spun back around. “Let me see your evidence.”
The first officer jerked his chin toward the other. “Show him.”
Handing Hunter a manila folder, the second guy grinned. “I’ll need that back when you’re finished with it.”
Grim faced, Hunter walked away, folder in hand.
After she’d been fingerprinted and booked, Layla was finally allowed to call her lawyer. Luckily, since she dealt with legal matters constantly as part of her job, she had his number memorized.
Once he’d answered—sounding groggy since she’d no doubt woken him—she filled him in as succinctly as possible. He promised to head to the police station right away, and she ended the call.
“Now what?” she asked the officer standing guard.
“Now you go to the holding cell with all the other women we’ve brought in tonight,” he said.
“And then what?”
“You wait.”
Hunter hadn’t been prepared for his reaction at seeing Layla Colton again. In the time since he’d left Colton Energy, he’d gone out of his way to avoid her, and not only because she’d reminded him of all the things one could do to sell their soul for personal gain.
She was beautiful, in a remote, detached sort of way. He’d constantly fought the urge to see if he could make her smile, mainly because the few times she had, she went from beautiful to stunning. But she’d smiled less and less, probably because her father had never let up on his constant badgering of her.
Hunter didn’t understand it. Layla worked harder than anyone else in the company, including the old man himself. Yet as far as Fenwick Colton was concerned, she was borderline incompetent, incapable of doing anything right, probably because she was his daughter rather than his son. Anyone else would have left a long time ago. But not Layla. Like the proverbial hamster on the never-ending wheel, she kept at it, determined to succeed at an impossible task.
By the time Hunter had quit, he actually felt sorry for her. Didn’t like her, but pitied her.
Thumbing through the pages, Hunter rapidly reached the conclusion that this case was 99 percent bogus. Mark Hatton, the former analyst and now junior salesman, claimed Layla Colton had sexually harassed and threatened him. There was no way. No way in hell.
He read the text messages purported to be from Layla to Mark in disbelief. Supposedly, she’d gone from flirty to threatening. There were several suggestive photos Mark claimed she’d texted him at midnight. Layla posed in lingerie, looking sexy as hell. Privately, Hunter thought no red-blooded male could fail to react to these. But he found the idea ludicrous that Layla, who not only was known around the office as the ice princess, but also was engaged to one of the richest men in the state, would have sent these to a junior staffer.
No matter was else she might be, Layla Colton wasn’t stupid. Far from it. And any woman who looked like her knew there were a hundred other ways to find a man willing to be your bed partner.
Though Hunter hadn’t been a police officer for long, he’d learned years ago to trust his gut instinct. And right now, everything within him said Layla was being set up. Why, he didn’t know.
Yet.
He watched as they marched her off to the holding cell, wondering how she’d do in there with the drunks and the prostitutes. Judging from what he’d seen in the time he’d worked with her, she’d survive.
Still, for whatever reason, he didn’t like the idea of her being arrested.
Instead of trying to figure out why Layla’s arrest affected him so strongly, he read the report again. Objectively, it seemed like a strong case. Rather than he said / she said, Mark Hatton had backed it up with compelling evidence. He had not only the text messages, but numerous emails sent from her company computer. He even had security camera footage from his home, showing Layla standing on his doorstep,
