Marie Ferrarella - The Pregnant Colton Bride

“Why shouldn’t I?” Zane fired back. “It is the truth.”

Watkins’s short laugh told him what the sheriff thought of his alibi. “Well, throughout history, a lot of mamas have been known to lie for their sons. For instance, the mamas who were the wives of rich, powerful men. They often just looked the other way when their sons rid them of those men.” Watkins leaned closer over the table as if he were sharing some sort of deep, dark confidence. “You take that Emperor Nero’s mama as an example. Did you know Nero’s mama poisoned her husband so her boy Nero could become emperor?” Watkins asked, chuckling as he spoke.

For two cents, Zane would have been more than willing to tell the sheriff exactly what he thought of the man, but he knew it would do him no good, only harm. Zane was determined not to allow the man to goad him into losing his temper.

“Fascinating as that is, Sheriff,” Zane told him, “I do have another witness.”

The hell you do, boy.

Watkins clearly didn’t believe him as he asked, “And this witness just happened to conveniently pop up in your memory now?”

Zane ignored the sheriff’s mocking tone and continued telling him his alibi. “The family housekeeper, Moira, was there at the time, as well. You might recall the name, Sheriff. Moira was the first one to discover my father was missing after my mother had sent her to the master suite to wake him up. It was Moira’s screams that alerted everyone else to the crime.” And then Zane restated his location. “I was nowhere near that side of the house when my father was taken.”

Unfazed, the sheriff continued with his accusation. “You could have taken him earlier.”

Watkins wasn’t letting up. Zane was now convinced the sheriff was just trying to bait him and get him rattled. Rattled people said all sorts of incriminating things.

Zane continued to maintain his innocence.

“There was evidence that my stepfather fought his kidnapper. The room looked like a hurricane had hit it.” And then he homed in on the main thing that would back up his claim. “One of the things knocked over in the struggle was an heirloom clock. Its face was smashed and the time on it stopped at 7:30.” He remembered his sister pointing that out at the time. “At 7:30 I was sitting in the dining room, having coffee with my mother.”

Watkins made a dismissive noise. “That’s a nice little story.”

All right, he’d been polite. He’d been patient. But enough was enough, Zane thought. He wasn’t about to be bullied or browbeaten by Watkins any longer. The sheriff had fixated on him long enough. The man needed to turn his attention to catching the real kidnapper, not sit around, spinning fairy tales because it suited his purposes.

“Do you have any real evidence linking me to my stepfather’s disappearance, other than a cuff link I could have easily lost at any time?” Zane demanded. When Watkins made no response, other than to glare at him begrudgingly, Zane nodded his head in satisfaction. “I didn’t think so.”

Rising from his chair, he declared, “We’re done here. Sheriff.”

“For now,” Watkins allowed as he got up, as well. “But I’ll be in touch.”

“I’m sure you will,” Zane snorted.

“Charlie,” Watkins called out to his deputy. “Take Mr. Colton back to his office.”

Zane was quick to cancel the order. He just wanted to leave all three officers of the law behind him. “Don’t bother, Charlie,” he said. “I’ll find my own way back.”

He didn’t like being countermanded, but to save face Watkins shrugged indifferently. “Suit yourself, Mr. Colton. Have a nice day,” he called after Zane.

Zane didn’t bother turning around or even acknowledging he had heard the sheriff’s sarcastic parting words.

Zane suppressed a sigh. He was in the clear for now, but he knew it would be just a matter of time before the sheriff came up with something else that would help him point a finger at one of the Coltons again.

Although theirs was the most prominent family living in the area, that didn’t keep some people from viewing his family in a vindictive, jealous light. Those were the people who would be willing to do anything to tear the Coltons down in the public’s eyes.

Watkins either belonged to that group, or to the group determined to show everyone that they were not influenced by the Coltons and would do whatever it took to bring one of them to so-called justice. Apparently the little matter of first being found guilty by a jury of their peers had mysteriously fallen by the wayside.

Zane blew out a breath. There was no point in making himself crazy over this. There was another way to deal with it.

Once outside the sheriff’s station, Zane took out his cell phone and put in a call to his office. It rang a total of five times before the receiver was finally picked up.

“Mr. Zane Colton’s office. How may I help you?”

Zane unconsciously smiled to himself. There was no mistaking that voice.

Mirabella tried not to sound breathless. She’d just gotten back from the ladies’ room and had nearly been too late to pick up the line. She’d run to her phone. After five rings, the call would have gone to voice mail.

“You can pick me up and get me the hell out of here.”

Relief did a quick sashay through her before Mirabella could think to block it. “Zane?” she cried happily. Belatedly, she realized she’d addressed him far too personally, given her position. She quickly cleared her throat and said, “I mean, Mr. Colton, is that you?”

“Yes, Belle, it’s me.” Zane looked over his shoulder, half expecting the sheriff to emerge from the office and ask him to come back under some new pretext. “And I need you to bring my car down here and pick me up.”

All sorts of things were going through her head, more than half of them having to do with fugitives fleeing the law. Her breathing grew more rapid as her concern escalated.

“Where are you, sir?”

“Right now, I’m standing in front of the sheriff’s office,” he told her. “And I’d really rather not spend any more time doing that than I absolutely have to. The man is out for blood. It doesn’t matter whose.”

But Mirabella was still focused on the first part of his statement.

“They let you go?” she cried.

“They had nothing to hold me on,” Zane informed her, surprisingly touched by the concern he heard in her voice. “I told you not to worry,” he reminded her. “I didn’t need our lawyer, after all.”

Her sigh of relief was audible over the phone. “I should have realized you’d make them see reason, Mr. Colton.”

He didn’t need to be flattered. What he needed was to be picked up.

“How soon do you think you can get here?” He wanted to know.

“I’m already on my way to the elevator,” she answered, which was stretching the truth since she’d taken the call on the office phone and was thus forced to stand there until she terminated the call. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“Don’t commit any traffic violations,” he warned. “I don’t want you arrested for speeding or going through a red light.” He warily glanced toward the sheriff’s office again. No one was coming out. “I’m not exactly friends with the sheriff around here.”

“Understood. Speed limit all the way,” she promised. “I’ll see you soon.”

“Can’t be soon enough for me,” Zane commented as he hung up.

Mirabella’s heart jumped as she hurried out of the office and toward the elevator. She knew Zane was referring to the fact that he wanted to get away from the sheriff, the man’s department and his office, but just for the space of a moment, she isolated Zane’s last sentence and pretended the words had a completely different meaning, a different intent behind them. Specifically, that he was eager to see her, not just eager to be taken away from the sheriff’s presence.