Stacking the Deck (A Betting on Romance Novel Book 2)(55)

“Leaving? How about I give you a ride?”

“Oh, I couldn’t trouble—”

“Really. No trouble. Turns out I need to head out myself.”

Liz let out a breath. “Thank you. I could use a ride.” She started toward the rear door.

“Oh, I’m not out back.” Dan took her elbow and propelled her toward the side exit. Only then did she notice he looked somewhat peculiar.

“Dan?” She paused, lightly touching the sleeve of his jacket. “Are you feeling okay? You look a bit flushed.”

“Me? I’m fine. Just a little hot in there. I could use some air is all. But I am in a bit of a hurry.”

“Sure. Of course.” Liz pushed open the door.

“Stop! Police! Put your hands in the air where we can see them!”

“Ohmigod!” Liz squeaked as an officer rushed forward. “What’s going—Dan?” She gaped as an officer pulled at the corner of what appeared to be a plastic baggy of confectioner’s sugar hanging out of Dan’s coat pocket. “What—?”

“Your purse, Miss?” A second officer held a hand out for Liz’s clutch.

“My purse?”

“May I see your purse, please?” Liz stared wide-eyed as the other officer handcuffed Dan and began to read him his Miranda Rights.

“Oh, really, there’s nothing...”

Liz noticed a small crowd gathering behind two flashing squad cars as the officer took her clutch from her fingers. He looked familiar and she tried to recall where she’d seen him before, but then she remembered what was inside her clutch.

“No!” she cried, lunging for the bag. “Please don’t!”

And, with sickening awareness, as if it all had become slow motion, Liz watched her bra slide from her purse and hang merrily from the officer’s fingertips as the flash of a camera burst before her eyes.

Trish was right. Reunions were hell.





CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

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“WHAT’S GOING ON HERE?”

Carter cut through the sea of murmuring, gawking bystanders as they took pictures of the commotion with their cell phones. He strode toward Liz, his sole thought that he was to blame for this. He shouldn’t have left her. He should have at least gotten her home. Now she was standing there like a deer caught in the headlights, and it was all because he’d impulsively stalked out and gotten halfway home before he was calm enough to recognize he’d overreacted.

“Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to stay where you—”

“Jeff!” Carter bellowed over the shoulder of the young officer holding him at bay. “Jeff! What the hell’s going on?”

Jeff Dayton closed the rear door of the squad car and strode over. “Later, Carter. We’re in the middle of an arrest.”

“You’re arresting Liz? For what?”

“I didn’t do anything! I swear!” Liz asserted to the nearest officer. She was shaking, he noted, and her face was unusually pale with two high spots of color on her cheeks. “Dan was walking me out. I don’t even know what was in that baggy. It wasn’t drugs was it? Was it drugs?”

“Liz, stop talking,” Carter advised as calmly as he could over the excited chatter of the crowd.

“Sir,” the kid cop warned him.

“What?” Liz asked, craning her neck to see Carter.

More people had crowded out of the hall to see what was going on, including an agitated blonde in a red dress.

“Dan!” Valerie yelled, screeching over the crowd and practically body-slamming Jeff Dayton in her attempt to scream at her ex-husband. “Dan!” she yelled, pounding on the squad car window. “How could you? How could you be so stupid?!”

“Ma’am!” Jeff barked. “Hands off the squad car!”

Valerie glared at Jeff and returned to bellowing through the window.

“Stop talking until we get this all straightened out,” Carter repeated over the din.

Liz blinked. “Am I in trouble?” she asked, her voice uneven. “I didn’t do—”

“Ma’am, in the car, please,” the young officer said.

Carter’s fists clenched at his sides as he watched Liz slide into the second squad car. Her eyes sought his helplessly.

“We’ll work it out there. I’ll meet you at the station,” he promised as the officer closed the door.

“Do you know who that woman is?” someone asked at his elbow.

Carter watched the cruiser with Liz pull away. “Yeah. Liz Beacon.”

“Is that short for Elizabeth?”

Carter turned, only dimly aware of the man beside him, notepad in hand. “Screw yourself, Flanders. She didn’t do anything.”

The newspaperman smiled. “Just looking for a caption for my photo,” he grinned. “Thanks.”

Carter strode toward his motorcycle and threw his leg over. So much for showing Liz how much fun she’d have tonight. He gunned the engine and squealed out of the parking lot.

Minutes later, he was throwing the door to the police station wide. “I need to speak to Jeff Dayton,” he informed the deputy on duty as calmly as he could manage.

“I’m sorry, sir. Officer Dayton is not available right now.”