Colton's Christmas Cop. Karen Whiddon

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