Читать книгу: «The Coltons of Red Ridge»

Chapter 1

Layla Colton ran the numbers one final time. No doubt about it—this sale would send Colton Energy’s stock through the roof, which would definitely help their sagging bottom line.

It was well after midnight, and the November dark outside carried the chill of winter. Everyone else in the building had gone home hours ago, but Layla considered her office her sanctuary, while the lavish condo where she actually lived felt more like an impersonal hotel room than anything else. She only went there to sleep, shower and eat, preferring to spend as much time as possible here, in her corner office on the executive floor of her father’s company.

Stifling a yawn, she rubbed the back of her aching neck. She needed to straighten up her desk and head home to catch a few hours’ sleep before coming back in the morning.

As she tidied up, her private line rang, the single, long buzz that indicated an internal call. She pressed the button for Speaker, curiosity warring with impatience. “Yes?”

“Security here, ma’am. I have a couple officers from Red Ridge Police Department asking to see you.”

To see her? At nearly one o’clock in the morning? Had something happened to one of her cousins, many of whom worked at the RRPD as K9 officers? Layla’s stomach twisted, and she took a deep gulp of air to help her stay calm.

“Send them up,” she ordered, careful that her cool tone betrayed none of her trepidation. She’d learned the hard way what a mistake it could be to display the tiniest bit of weakness. There would always be someone watching and waiting for the chance to take her down.

Two uniformed officers appeared in her doorway a few minutes later. A third stood a few feet behind them. “Come in,” she said, her gaze searching first one face and then the others.

“Layla Colton?” the taller of the two asked.

Words failed her, so she simply nodded.

“You’re under arrest for stalking, threatening and harassing Mark Hatton.”

“What?” Flabbergasted, she briefly lost her tenuous grip on her refusal to be ruffled. “Have you lost your mind?” Mark Hatton worked for her, first as a junior analyst and then as a salesman. She’d regretted hiring him due to his sloppy work and questionable ethics and had begun keeping detailed documentation as a prelude to letting him go.

“I’m afraid not, ma’am.” The second officer stepped forward with handcuffs. “We have evidence. Emails in your name, texts from your phone number making sexual advances and threatening him when he turned you down.” The disgust in his voice would have made a lesser woman cringe.

“That’s impossible,” she began.

“Is it?” he cut her off. “Tell it to the judge. It’s not only women who are victims, you know. You rich people always think you can get away with anything. Well, not this time.”

A silent scream formed in the back of her throat. No. This couldn’t be happening. Not to her, not now. She’d never threatened anyone a day in her life. And as for making sexual advances to a man like Mark, even the thought made bile rise in her throat. Lies. They were all lies. “I need to call my lawyer,” she said.

“You’ll be afforded the opportunity to do that later.”

She barely listened as they read her rights and stood wooden while they cuffed her like a criminal, the metal cold and hard around her wrists. Still numb, she kept her chin up and her shoulders back as she allowed them to hustle her from her office, down the marble hall, through the lobby and out into the frigid night air to the waiting patrol car. The security officer stood at his desk and watched it all, wide-eyed and clearly stunned.

This would all be on video. There were cameras mounted both inside the building and out. Her father would see. Anyone could see, including Hamlin, her fiancé. He might even decide to make the temporary hiatus they’d placed on their business deal of an engagement a permanent thing. She wouldn’t mind personally, but her father would. They needed Hamlin Harrington’s money to shore up Colton Energy.

What a mess. Her blood felt as icy as the northern wind. She wasn’t a fool—one couldn’t be a female executive in a mostly male industry without making a few enemies. But this? Trumped-up charges that would sound ridiculous to anyone who knew her?

She could only hope word of this wasn’t leaked to the press. She’d be crucified before she even had a chance to defend herself. Tears stung the backs of her eyes, and she furiously blinked them away. Once again, she felt like that little girl who, no matter what she did, couldn’t manage to make her father proud. Even at age thirty-one, she never could seem to make herself stop trying. She’d even agreed to marry a man she didn’t love, just because her father wanted her to.

She’d worked so hard to stay above reproach, and now this insanity. While she had no doubt she’d get this straightened out, it would take time. During which her reputation would be trashed and the multiple deals she had in the works as executive vice president of Colton Energy could fail. She needed those deals—they needed them and their 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, ringing the bell. When he hadn’t answered, Layla left a large envelope on the porch, tucked behind a potted plant, and walked away.

If Hunter didn’t know Layla the way one does from working with her for three years, he would have closed the file and walked away. After all, she had money and connections and would most likely settle out of court, her reputation untarnished.

Then the station phones started ringing. Someone had leaked the story.

By the time Layla’s attorney arrived, two news vans were parked in front of the police station. Both had come from Sioux Falls. Whoever had tipped them off had wasted no time. Hunter had a hunch it had been Mark Hatton.

Checking his watch, Hunter swore. Time to go home and let his dog out, plus catch a few hours of shut-eye. But he didn’t want to leave until he saw what happened with Layla. While he thought she was the epitome of everything wrong with the corporate world, she’d always been kind to him. She didn’t deserve this, especially since he felt positive she’d done nothing wrong.

“What’s going on?” he asked Tim Lakely, one of the officers who’d brought her in. Though Lakely wasn’t on the K9 team, Hunter knew him well.

“She’s still in with her attorney,” Lakely replied, his expression disgusted. “And they must have called in Judge Kugen, because he just showed up. And he doesn’t look happy. Of course she gets special treatment since she’s a rich Colton.”

Hunter followed the direction of the other man’s gaze. Judge Roy Kugen sat in one of the uncomfortable metal chairs that dotted the room. Suspect chairs, though occasionally they were used by citizens wishing to file a report. The judge had clearly been roused from bed, at least if his disheveled gray hair was any indication. He also appeared to be wearing plaid pajama pants under his heavy coat, though he’d had enough foresight to put on a pair of boots.

The lawyer appeared, some hotshot corporate attorney from Sioux Falls, and asked the judge if he’d mind coming with him. Roy pushed to his feet and they vanished inside the conference room.

Lakely shook his head. “One more example of how rich people get away with everything. If Layla Colton was just a regular person, she’d be spending the night here and be arraigned in the morning. But no, she got Judge Kugen to come to her so she could go home tonight.”

“I can’t say I blame her,” Hunter said, in the interest of fairness. “You know if you were in the same position, you’d do the same thing.”

Rolling his eyes, Lakely muttered under his breath and stomped away.

A few minutes later, Judge Kugen appeared again. He glanced around the virtually empty squad room until his gaze landed on Hunter. “Here,” the judge said, thrusting a sheaf of papers at him. “I’ve waived bail and we’re letting Ms. Colton go on her own recognizance. These will be filed with the court in the morning. Those are your copies.”

Accepting the papers, Hunter nodded. “I’ll make sure the officers working this case get these.”

“You do that.” Judge Kugen narrowed his eyes. “I sure as hell hope you’ve got an airtight case. People like the Colton family don’t take kindly to being arrested under false accusations.”

Since he privately agreed, Hunter simply nodded.

Once the judge had left, the attorney stuck his head out the door. “Are you Hunter Black?”

“I am.”

“Ms. Colton would like a word with you,” the guy said.

Summoned. Just like she thought he still worked for her. Hunter briefly debated declining, but in the end, he headed for the conference room. Call it curiosity or call it compassion, but he truly wanted to hear what Layla Colton had to say.

When he entered the room, she raised her gaze to his, her long-lashed blue eyes troubled. Her platinum blond hair swung, settling back into place.

“I’ll leave you two alone,” the attorney said, grabbing his briefcase from the table. “Ms. Colton, do you need anything else from me?”

“No, I don’t think so,” she said, her normally cool voice sounding a bit shaky. “Thank you, Anthony.”

With a brusque nod, the lawyer left, closing the door behind him.

She tucked a strand of her silky hair behind her ear, clearly waiting for Hunter to speak first. Instead, he studied her. Her tailored suit and silk blouse meant she’d most likely been arrested at work. At this hour of the morning? He’d heard she was a workaholic, but still.

Suffering his perusal in silence, she finally sighed. “Won’t you please sit down?”

Instead, he jammed his hands in his pockets. “What’s going on, Layla? It’s late and I really need to get home.”

At his words, her icy composure crumbled. She covered her face with her hands so he wouldn’t see her weep.

Damn. He seriously went to pieces when a woman cried.

“Hey, now,” he said, awkwardly patting her shoulder. “It’s going to be okay.”

“Is it?” When she raised her face, her perfectly applied mascara had run, sending black streaks down her face. She angrily tried to wipe them away and only succeeded in smearing sooty color all over her face. She looked, he thought, like a bedraggled raccoon. He actually liked this Layla better than the icy tycoon.

Resigned now, he pulled out a chair. “Tell me exactly what’s going on.”

She did, replaying what she’d been told—basically what Lakely had told him earlier. “I just don’t understand how anyone could honestly believe I’d sexually harass someone like Mark Hatton.” She shuddered. “Or anyone, for that matter. You know me. You worked with me. I took care to keep my conduct businesslike, above reproach.”

“Yes, you did.” He leaned forward. “But what about the text messages? The photos?”

Though she blushed, she didn’t look away. “I never sent them. Those two cops who arrested me confiscated my phone or I’d show you. I’m being set up, though I have no idea why.”

“Someone with a grudge against Colton Energy?” he gently pointed out. After all, it wasn’t like the company didn’t have enemies.

Again, her expression went from glum to miserable. “I... I don’t know.”

He wasn’t sure if she was telling the truth or not. But then, he wasn’t surprised. The entire time he’d worked there, everyone had known Colton Energy was Layla’s life. Whether she turned a blind eye or just didn’t know about her father’s shady business deals, he had no idea. Certainly, few in town even suspected the true nature of Fenwick Colton. After all, they’d elected the man their mayor.

The uncomfortable thought hit him. If she’d lie about this, then who knew what else she’d do? “Layla,” he asked gently. “Did you proposition and then threaten Mark Hatton? I know it can get lonely at the top.”

She recoiled, her expression aghast. “No. I most certainly did not. I swear to you on the lives of my family that I didn’t send those texts, emails or photos. I’m being set up.”

Unimpressed, he continued to study her. “Swear to me on your job, on Colton Energy.” In other words, what truly was the most important thing to her.

Hurt flashed across her face, but she lifted her chin and swore again, exactly how he’d asked.

He nodded, satisfied. “Now I know you’re telling the truth.”

“Why did you quit, Hunter?” she asked, surprising him. “You were well regarded and performed your job duties well. And we paid you an excellent salary. Yet you gave notice without even the prospect of another job offer. When we heard you’d signed up for the police academy, we were surprised, to say the least.”

How to tell someone that the life they’d chosen for herself was one he found abhorrent? Corporate greed and lies, constantly wondering if the things he was asked to do skirted the border of legality...

“Working in law enforcement had been a longtime dream of mine,” he said. Then, deciding the time had come to change the subject and wrap things up, he checked his watch. “Do you want to call someone, maybe your fiancé, to come and get you?”

“No. My engagement is currently on hold, like everyone else’s in this town,” she replied. She had a point. With some crazed serial killer going around murdering grooms right before their wedding day, just about every scheduled wedding had been postponed.

“And to tell you the truth,” she continued, “I’m afraid if Hamlin finds out about these charges, he’ll end the engagement for good.”

She looked so miserable at the prospect, his heart went out to her.

“Come on, then,” he said, making an instant decision. “Let me run you home. It’s on my way, so it won’t be any trouble.”

“What about the news vans?” She pointed toward the front of the police station. “Is there any way we can avoid them?”

Eyeing her, in her tailored suit and heels, he considered. “We’ll go out the back and take my squad car, but I wouldn’t be surprised if they don’t have someone watching that exit, too. It’d be better if you had a disguise.”

“I don’t.”

“I might be able to come up with something,” he replied.

“Please tell me you’re not planning on raiding the police lost and found.” She shuddered. “No one knows where those things have been.”

He couldn’t help but laugh. “I wasn’t, but that’s an idea. No, I keep a clean change of clothes here in case I have to spend the night. These uniforms aren’t the most comfortable to sleep in.”

To his astonishment, she blushed. “Oh. But I don’t think your clothes will fit me. At all.”

“We’ll figure out a way to make do. Come on, follow me.” He led the way down the hall, toward an area marked Employees Only. They went through the double doors and into a large room filled with lockers. From his locker, he retrieved a flannel shirt, a pair of sweatpants and socks. He’d even stuffed back a pair of old snow boots. “Here.” He handed everything to her. “The bathroom is right there. Put these on.”

Eyeing the folded bundle dubiously, nevertheless, she did as he asked. When she emerged a few moments later, he felt like he’d just been punched in the stomach. His plaid flannel shirt hung down to her knees. She’d gotten creative and rolled his sweatpants up so they didn’t drag on the floor. She’d gathered the excess waistband to one side and held it in her small hand. And she struggled to walk in snow boots that were clearly several sizes too large for her.

She looked like misfortune had guided her clothing choice, as if she were a homeless vagabond wearing whatever she could find in order to stay warm.

And she looked, he thought, while struggling to catch his breath, sexy as hell.

Dizzy with a sudden rush of desire, he tried to regain his equilibrium.

This Layla Colton spelled trouble. Not just for him, he figured, not wanting to make of it any more than he had to. Hell, the intriguing contrast between super-sleek, buttoned-up Layla the executive and this one would catch the attention of any man with a lick of sense. He couldn’t gather his scattered thoughts enough to speak a single coherent word. It took every ounce of his willpower to keep from focusing on her lush lips and how badly he wanted to kiss them.

Luckily, he wasn’t likely to ever see her looking like this ever again.

“Here.” He handed her a baseball cap and his down parka. “Put these on and we’ll head out. I don’t think anyone would recognize you now.”

He was right. If there were reporters stationed at the back of the building, he couldn’t tell. Which meant he could get her out of there without any undue attention. She got in his patrol car and they drove away unnoticed.