Enemies on Tap (17 page)

“I’m sure there’s a good explanation for all of this.” There had to be. The Logan she’d spent last night with would never betray her. She had to believe he could give her an explanation. She sucked in a fortifying breath of air and placed her palms flat on the desk, pushing herself into a standing position, ready to leave and go find out exactly what that explanation was.

Sean crossed his arms across his barrel chest. “Now they’re both in jail.”

“What?” She dropped back into her chair, and her purse slid out of her grasp, landing on the floor with a
thunk
. His words sucked the hope right out of her heart.

“One of the delivery guys just told me that Logan’s in a cell right next to Carl at the county jail.”

Sean could have kept talking, but Miranda wasn’t hearing his voice anymore. Her fingers flew across the keyboard until the Hamilton County Jail’s phone number showed up in her search. She misdialed twice before the call went through.

“Intake, this is Farley.”

“Is Logan Martin in custody?” Her question came out confident, but she squeezed her free hand closed to stop the shaking.

“Who’s asking?”

“Miranda Sweet.”

“Why do you want to know?”

Belligerent was so not the tone to take with her right now, not when her stress level was at the breaking point. Miranda opened her mouth to blast the jailer, but then closed it before she could give Farley a what-for. The information was what was important. She just needed to hear the word
no
, and then she’d know the whole thing was a crazy rumor being peddled by old farts at The Kitchen Sink hopped up on Ruby Sue’s sweet tea.

“Look, it’s public information. Is he there or not?” Her cell phone buzzed in her purse. She jammed the landline receiver between her ear and shoulder and dug it out.

“Yep, he’s here.”

Miranda flinched, squeezed her eyes shut, and pictured Logan with his hair tousled and eyes sleepy when he’d kissed her goodbye this morning. Her cell phone vibrated in her hand. Like a dog with its head hidden under the bed, she wanted to pretend everything was fine. But she couldn’t. The phone vibrated again. She cracked her eyelids open. A red circle with a white number one glowed next to the text message icon on her cell phone screen. Holding her breath, she clicked it.

Tried your work phone but it’s busy. Break in your case. Made arrest. Please call. Patrolman Warner.

“If that’s all—”

“What’s the charge you are holding Logan on?” Miranda tried to keep it together, but the words squeaked out.

“Assault and battery.” Well, trying to run her off the road would sure count as that.

She hung up the phone, too numb to utter good-bye or thank you, and stared at the framed dollar bill hanging on the wall opposite her desk. It wasn’t the first dollar from the first sale at Sweet Salvation Brewery. No, that would be too normal for her family. It was the first dollar her grandfather had made from bootlegging liquor decades before the brewery was even built. Logan’s cell at the county jail probably had PawPaw’s initials carved into the cinderblock walls.

Sean cleared his throat. “You okay?”

“No.” Even if she could elaborate about the vast queasy mess inside her, she figured Mr. No Public Emotions would
not
be the one to spill her guts to. She had fallen for the same asshole not once, but twice. The first time, her reputation had ended up in shreds. This time, it was her career and sisters that would pay the price.

She picked up the phone receiver again to call the state trooper, but she couldn’t force her fingers to dial. She locked her jaw and hung up the phone. She already knew everything she needed about Logan’s betrayal. A Martin’s duplicity was a tale as old as time; why wallow in the details of the latest example?

Natalie burst into the office, her eyes wide and her fingers twisted in her pearl necklace. “Have you heard about the meeting? What are we going to do?”

Glad to focus on something that didn’t involve her obliterated heart, Miranda plastered on her best I-can-fix-anything smile and cracked her knuckles. “Show Salvation just how good a Sweet can be.”

Logan paced the eight-feet-by-eight-feet jail cell, making his way from the bars to the window
set high in the cinderblock walls. They’d taken his wallet and his belt, but at least he wasn’t in an orange jumpsuit. He stopped when his toes hit the wall, and not for the first time in the past two hours, he noticed the word Sweet scraped into the wall and wondered if Miranda’s people had carved it.

His gut tightened at the thought of her. As soon as he made bail, he had to find her and explain what had happened. How he hadn’t planned to punch Carl in the face, but the asshole deserved what he’d gotten. He’d meant to tell her what had happened and how he’d gotten Carl to confess last night, but after her kamikaze attack with the gnome and everything that followed, it just didn’t seem as important at first, and then he figured he’d have more time. Logan pivoted and headed back in the other direction. The swish of automatic doors sliding open halted his pacing. A deputy strode through and made his way to a desk in the far corner.

Finally.
Logan rushed to the bars. “Is my dad here yet to post bail?”

“He came, but I sent him home. You can’t make bail if it hasn’t been set. Only Judge Carter can do that, and he’s gone home for the day.”

Using utmost care, Logan pressed his forehead against the cool bars, but what he really wanted to do was bang his head against them until he blacked out from the pain. “Gone home?”

The deputy nodded. “Yep, something about accompanying his wife to the county council meeting.”

“What meeting?” He asked the question, but deep inside he already knew the answer. Unable to stand still any longer, he prowled the cell like a caged animal.

“What am I, the damn newspaper?”

Logan jerked to a stop in the middle of the cell and spun around. Remembering the stories about people in high stress situations who lifted cars off babies, he eyeballed the cell bars. Something on his face must have startled the deputy, because his eyes widened and he took a step back.

Putting every ounce of menace he could muster into his face, Logan stalked to the front of the cell. “What meeting?”

The deputy flushed. “Someone’s got their panties in a twist and called a meeting to vote on banning alcohol production. Oh, and taking over the Sweet Salvation Brewery.”

And here he was stuck in a cell in the basement of the Hamilton County Courthouse, one block away from the county council chambers. He wanted to scream his frustration or, better yet, go all Hulk and smash through the walls. Neither of which was an option, all of which had dried up like the Red Oak Creek during a drought.

He sank down to the bunk and dropped his head to his hands. The thin mattress sagged under his weight. “I have to get to that meeting.”

“Well, unless they’re going to relocate the meeting to cell three,” the deputy drawled, “I’d say you’re shit out of luck.”

Chapter
Nineteen

Miranda squeezed through the crowd gathered outside the county council chambers, ignoring the conversational bu
zz that fell silent when she neared and then rebounded louder than a football-field-sized pack of cicadas as soon as she passed. Anxiety itched up her spine, leaving a clammy trail of moisture in its wake.

“About time you got here.” Ruby Sue clamped her arthritis-gnarled hand around Miranda’s forearm. “Come on, Natalie and I saved you a spot up front. I had to threaten George Gunderson, but that old rust bucket finally moved his boney butt down a chair.”

Following the older woman’s lead, Miranda weaved her way through the folks clogging up the aisle to the front row. Natalie sat with her hands clasped in her lap, her jaw tense. Sean sat next to her. The unexpected support from the brewmaster hit Miranda right in the tear ducts, and her bottom lip trembled.

“Thanks for coming,” she whispered.

Sean nodded and the strip of skin above his beard line pinkened.

“If I could have your attention.” The council chairman, Sheldon Monroe, banged his gavel. “If y’all could take your seats, we’ll get started.”

The crowd milled in from the hall, taking up every seat in the county council room and then some. High school football games had fewer folks than were packed into the rows and along the walls. Usually, the homecoming game had the biggest attendance of any event in Salvation, but it looked like the Sweet family’s metaphorical execution was an even bigger draw. She could practically feel the weight of all the stares on her back. Unable to help herself, she threw a quick glance over her shoulder. Tyrell Hawson sat a few rows behind them, sporting a hateful gleam in his eye.

“Just ignore the idiots, like Mom and Dad always taught us.” Natalie patted her knee.

Miranda was about to turn and face front when movement by the door caught her attention. Hud and another man were in a heated discussion with Judge Carter that had attracted gawkers who weren’t even pretending not to be listening in.

Seeing Logan’s best friend was like being kicked in the ass by a goat, but in this case, the sharp pain was in her heart. She’d been a fool to believe Logan really cared, and she had to be every kind of idiot, because part of her still did, and she really wanted that part to be right.

Moron.

Ruby Sue delivered a sharp elbow into Miranda’s ribs, dragging her out of her mental ass-chewing. “I can only imagine what Carl Brennan looks like right about now. I tried to take a peek when I stopped by the sheriff’s office this morning, but they wouldn’t let me back to the holding cells. Talk about taking the fun out of small town living.”

Like an iPod stuck on repeat, Ruby Sue’s first words played on a loop in Miranda’s head. “What are you talking about?”

Only a blind man could miss the bloodthirsty glint in the older woman’s eyes as she rubbed her thick-knuckled hands together. “Logan found him at the Spotted Pig last night and beat some sense into him.”

None of this made any sense. He and Carl were co-conspirators. “Why would he do that?”

Ruby Sue narrowed her eyes. “Either you’re a lot dumber than I ever gave you credit for, or you’ve been sampling your brewery’s goods today for some backwoods courage. Which is it?”

“Logan went after Carl?” The words spilled out in a rush as she tried to comprehend Ruby Sue’s report.

“Yep, word at The Kitchen Sink is that he went to town on Carl, broke his nose, and got a confession out of him about trying to ram you off the road. Now I don’t know if it’ll hold up in court, but it’s got folks reconsidering things around here.”

Someone must have leaned against the thermostat, because a blazing heat enveloped Miranda, and her palms turned clammy, appropriate since her brain had turned to ash in her effort to understand. Logan had played her for the fool, pushing all her buttons in an effort to close down Sweet Salvation Brewery. Hadn’t he?

It hadn’t seemed that way when she’d woken up this morning and caught him staring at her while twisting her hair around his finger. The kiss that followed showed his intentions more than any words could. Still, doubt ate away at her like acid.

Dropping her gaze to the floor, Miranda fought to work through her confusion. “That can’t be…the bet.”

“Why are you repeating that tired nonsense?” Ruby Sue
tsked tsked
and shook her head. “Miranda Sweet, I am sorely disappointed in you. If I didn’t think it was temporary insanity brought on by this here mess, I’d be tempted to cut you off from my pecan pie.”

Miranda stood, intent on threading her way through the crowd to Hud, but the county council chairman banged the gavel. Indecision froze Miranda to the spot. Should she push her way to the back of the room and get the real story about Logan, or did she stay and argue to save the brewery and her future in Harbor City? As if her feet didn’t take orders from her frazzled brain anymore, she took a step toward the aisle.

Natalie’s fingers wrapped around Miranda’s wrist. “You can’t go up to the podium yet. You have to wait for them to call for public comment.”

Caught between a sister’s clueless guidance and her own uncertainty, she hesitated. The respite gave Judge Carter, Hud, and the third man enough time to squeeze through the crowd and out the front door. She tugged her arm out of Natalie’s grasp to follow them. The need to know the truth pushed her feet forward.

“Where are you going?” Natalie wound her finger around her rope of pearls.

The question stopped her in her tracks. If she left now, she’d miss out on her chance to talk to the county council. Could she really risk the brewery’s future by blasting out after them? What if Ruby Sue was wrong and Logan had been fighting dirty the whole time?

The gavel banged again, the sound reverberating down her spine. “Miss Sweet, if you will take your seat.”

Glancing around, Miranda realized she was the only one still standing. Too confused to be embarrassed, she plopped down into her chair and scrambled to remember her plan.

The doors dividing the holding cells from the rest of the sheriff’s department whooshed open. Logan’s head snapped up from the cot where he’d been
trying his best to stare a hole into the jail cell’s ceiling and escape.

“Looks like somebody up there likes you.
Judge Carter
came back to set your bail.” The deputy buzzed the cell door open. “Hud posted it. You’re a free man. Come on.”

Logan’s heartbeat pounded in his ears as he popped up from the cot and hustled to the open door. With any luck, he’d make it before the emergency meeting ended. He had little doubt Tyrell had rigged things to go down just like he wanted. After the exposé in the newspaper today, he may not have much sway in Salvation, but he was going to put all of it behind Miranda.
Please let it work.

He crossed the threshold, hoping like hell he’d never see the inside of a cell again, and followed the deputy down the hall. Empty cell after empty cell on the left side, cinderblock wall and officer of the month plaques on the right. The deputy slowed as they approached the last cell.

“Wake up. Time to go before the magistrate judge and get your bail set.” The deputy punched in a code on a number pad, and the cell door slid to the left.

Carl, his nose stuffed with cotton, made it out into the hall, spotted Logan, and took a hasty step back into the cell. His left eye widened. The other eye, still purple and swollen, stayed mostly shut. “What the fuck? I ain’t going nowhere with this asshole.”

Logan straightened to his full height and grinned scornfully at the other man. “What’s wrong, afraid you’ll get your ass handed to you again?”

“You attacked me without provocation.” Spittle flew from his lips, and his face darkened to an angry plum color that emphasized the purplish-yellow bruises circling his eye. “I told the cops how we were just talking and you sucker punched me like the spoiled little rich kid you are.”

“Are you as stupid as you look?” He stepped forward until he loomed over the shorter man, who took another step back. “You could have killed her. You’re damn lucky a broken nose is the worst of what you got.”

Carl gave the deputy a shifty-eyed glance. “I have no idea who or what you’re talking about.”

“Trying not to implicate yourself, eh, shit for brains?” Logan rolled back on his heels and shoved his hands into his pockets. “The troopers already have your confession. The one I recorded last night before knocking you on your ass.”

Carl’s face turned molten, and a splash of red bloomed at the base of his throat. “Why you—” The cell door rumbled closed, drowning out the rest of the other man’s words.

The deputy dropped his hand from the number pad controlling the doors. “Since you two can’t play nice, I’ll come back for you once the judge is finished with him.” He nodded his head toward Logan. “Maybe I’ll get lucky and you two will get assigned cells right next to each other. Watching that would be better than Pay-Per-View.”

The first part of the county council meeting flew by in a blur as Miranda’s knee bobbed up and down, her heel clicking against the floor. The council went through th
e roll call, the preliminaries, and a droning appeal from the First Baptist Church’s ladies auxiliary before Sheldon cleared his throat and leaned in close enough to the microphone that it caused a peel of feedback. People squawked in surprise and straightened in their seats.

“Sorry about that.” A deep red hue dominated the chairman’s cheeks. “Back to the matter at hand. The council has before it a motion to make it illegal to manufacture alcohol in Hamilton County. Salvation Mayor Tyrell Hawson has requested a few minutes to address this matter.”

The crowd murmured behind her, but Miranda refused to look back over her shoulder again at the man who caused this whole mess. He ambled up to the podium at the front of the room, smiling and nodding to folks as he passed them. Tyrell didn’t have any notes. She couldn’t detect a tremble in his hands or a nervous twitch around his eyes. This was a man who thought he had the whole thing tied up with a bow.

Too bad he was as wrong as mayonnaise on a MoonPie. If there was one thing a Sweet knew how to do, it was fight the good fight—even if it got a little dirty.

“Thank you so much for letting me have a moment of your time to discuss this important issue before the council. I come to you not as Salvation’s mayor, a position I’ve held for the past fifteen years, but as a father and concerned citizen.” He turned and looked meaningfully at his adult son and daughter as well as the gaggle of toe-headed children piled between them. “Not to mention, a proud grandfather.”

“And a little man with a big grudge,” Ruby Sue muttered under her breath.

Miranda shushed the older woman. She couldn’t afford to miss anything Tyrell said, not if she wanted to counteract it when her turn came.

“I am concerned about the serious, life-threatening dangers posed by alcohol manufacturing facilities. All having a brewery in Hamilton County does is endanger people. Breweries are treacherous places where explosions and fires are a distinct possibility. It’s only a matter of time. I’m sure every one of us here remembers when a worker at Gulch City Breweries sustained severe burns in a workplace accident. There have been other brewery accidents where people died.”

Annoyance heated her skin as effectively as a tanning bed. Uncle Julian was a lot of things, but he cared about the employees at the brewery. He’d made sure proper safety processes were followed, a plan she and her sisters adhered to now and would continue to do so. Her mouth was open, and the words of protest were on the tip of her tongue, but she snapped her jaw closed. Tyrell was playing to his audience already. She wasn’t about to give him a bigger stage by making a scene.

“My friends, let’s take a look at this specific brewery.” Tyrell shed the aw-shucks politician body language like a snake slipping off its skin. His jaw tightened, and his posture straightened. He slapped his palms flat on the podium and leaned his considerable weight forward. “We all know the Sweets. We know what kind of people they are. We know the trouble that nips at their heels like Satan’s puppy.”

The crowd buzzed around them in barely whispered comments to their neighbors. Miranda kept her head high and closed her hands into fists in her lap. She wouldn’t let them see how much she wanted to shrink down in her seat, just as she had all those times growing up, when people had shunned her and her sisters for being Sweets.

Sheldon banged his county council gavel, silencing the crowd.

The chamber doors creaked open, and Logan walked in with Hud and another man. Their appearance got the crowd murmuring again, but the men showed no sign of acknowledgement as they made their way along the far wall of the standing-room only chambers and squeezed in beside Mr. and Mrs. Franklin. Logan winked at her, and she wrestled with the competing urges to either melt in her seat or stomp over to chew his ass for putting himself in such a spot for her.

So this was what it’s like to fall for the now-tarnished prince of Salvation?

Miranda blinked rapidly as the world spun around her. That’s exactly what she’d done. She’d fallen—
and fallen hard
—for Logan. Not like in high school, when she’d been in love with the man he could become, but the adult version where she loved the man he had become. Her lungs contracted, and her eyes watered from holding her breath. And just when she thought her chest would cave in under realization’s weight, she forced herself to breathe. Oxygen flooded her bloodstream.

The room quieted, and Tyrell waited a few beats before continuing his diatribe. “I won’t go into all of the examples of disconcerting behavior from the Sweets, but I instead have this question to ask. Do you trust that the Sweets can keep the brewery running safely—especially when Miranda Sweet’s only motivation is make the place profitable so she can get a promotion at her real job in Harbor City?”

The stunned look on Logan’s face melted into hurt before solidifying into a neutral mask. Watching his expression change was like shoving an ice pick into her eye.