In Your Arms: A Small Town Love Story (Safe Haven Book 1) (12 page)

M
arlo was leaving
her office the next morning when Adam phoned.

“We have a problem.”

Her heart started to thunder in her chest. Had Barrett seen her at the bar last night? Did he and Adam talk after the phone call? “What’s up?” Despite her best effort, she didn’t sound even remotely neutral.

“There’s video of Justice on the net, and it’s going nuts.”

“Oh, shit.” Marlo’s mind went crazy, running through a myriad of jumbled scenarios, trying to work out how this had happened and more importantly, why it had happened. “Where has it come from?”

“We don’t know yet. I’ve got someone onto it. But Marlo, it looks a lot like some of the video you showed me the other day. It’s been edited out of context, so it swings between Justice flat-out scared, and reactive barking and growling.”

Her hands on the phone were clammy. Please, not the wardrobe malfunction
.
“Who would do this?”

“That’s what we’re working on. Listen, I’m on my way over. I need to look at the DVDs. Don’t mention this to anyone at the moment…not that it’s much of a secret. It only went up last night but it’s going viral. It’s being shared by both sides of the pit bull lobby, pro and anti. The anti-pit bull lobby are using it as proof about how dangerous the dogs are. The pro-lobby are using it to gain support for nailing the dog fighters. Both groups appear to have an extreme element and none of this will be doing Justice any favors. Hang in there. I’ll see you soon.”

She opened the filing cabinet to retrieve the DVDs. They were still there. Innocent little discs in their boxes.

A short while later, Adam pulled into the parking lot.

“That was quick, officer. I hope you didn’t break the speed limit.”

Adam rubbed at his face with one hand. “The news gets worse. Is Lulah here?”

“Yes, why?”

“Can we get her up to the office?”

Everything in her stilled. Lulah?
“Why, Adam? What’s going on?”

His mouth tightened as if to keep something distasteful from rising and spilling out. “We’ve found the origin of the posting of the video. The first upload went to Lulah’s YouTube account and was posted from there to her Facebook page.”

She rubbed the back of her neck, shaking her head. “No, I don’t believe it.”

Adam booted his laptop. “Ask her up here, and we’ll see.”

She clasped the phone with an unsteady grip as she put the call down to the kennels.

“Hey, dudes.” Lulah called when she reached the office door minutes later. She took in the scene and the color slid from her face. “Whoa, we got trouble?”

“Sit here, please, Lulah.”

Marlo watched as Adam directed her to a chair. She hated seeing him like this. Formal, unyielding with that blank cop face she loathed. The impenetrable look, spelling death to any sort of compassion you would normally reach for. She swallowed hard.

“What’s happening here?” Lulah asked.

Adam pointed her to the computer screen. He had opened Lulah’s Facebook page while they waited for Lulah to arrive.

“Hey, that’s my page…”

“Watch this.” He started the video.

Apart from the occasional exclamation, the three of them watched the video in virtual silence. In one scene, Justice emitted a low, threatening growl when Marlo tried to remove his food bowl. Next, it cut to him snapping at her when she tried to touch him around his shoulder. In the following scene was a pit bull bearing an uncanny resemblance to Justice. The dog played tug rope with someone out-of-shot, and to the uninitiated, he looked vicious, snarling and drooling while he worked the rope. In fact, the video was nothing more than clever, out-of-context editing, intermingled were other still shots of pit bull dogs in what looked to be ferocious postures. All the while, the voiceover denounced the dogs, explaining how dangerous they were, how they should not be rescued, and that rehabilitation was an expensive, pointless and dangerous exercise. The anti-pit bull lobby were having their day in the sun and, to an outsider, it looked very convincing.

When it had finished, Adam turned to Lulah. “Is there anything you can tell us?”

“What do you mean?” Her voice was shaky and confused.

“That’s your Facebook page, Lulah, and the video links directly to your YouTube account. Although the thing has gone viral and is now on God knows how many video sharing sites, personal sites, other Facebook pages, blogs…the fact is, it originated on your YouTube and Facebook accounts.”

Lulah’s face was ashen. “My accounts must have been hacked.”

“Really.”

“You’ve got to believe me. I have no idea about this. I haven’t used those accounts in ages. You can check that. Look at the history.”

Adam scrolled through the dozens of Facebook messages and status updates posted over the past few weeks. They told a story of dangerous dogs they tried to rehabilitate at the Sanctuary. There were photos of snarling pit bulls and dog bites on dogs and humans. “Looks to me like you’ve been in hyper-mode, Lulah.”

“I would never do anything to harm these dogs…this place…Marlo or the Dog Sanctuary.” She turned to Marlo, shoulders high, hands open. “You know that.”

“I know.” She faced Adam. “Lulah wouldn’t do this. She’s as passionate about saving these dogs as I am.” She watched as he held her stare. The void in his expression made her throat constrict.

He turned to Lulah. “Tell me why we should believe you.”

“Because I love what I do here. It’s my life. These dogs are more important to me than anything else in the world.”

“What about the anti-pit bull lobby?”

“They’re ignorant. They need to come here and see the sort of work we do…see what these dogs are really like. What they become with a bit of love and help.”

“Have you ever met any of them?”

Lulah had been twirling a ring on her finger but now, as her face lifted, she was flushed with defiance. “No, never.”

“What makes you so sure about that?”

“Adam, I’d know.” She was becoming agitated.

“And how would you know? Because these people—the real lobbyists and agitators—they don’t broadcast their affiliation. They cozy-up alongside you, become your friend, your confidante and without you realizing it, they extract all the information they want.”

Lulah shook her head. “I don’t know any of them.”

“What about Vince?”

Lulah’s mouth dropped. “Vince? Vince is one of them?”

“Possibly. You guys don’t know anything about him. He turns up here out of the blue. He hides behind a wall of silence when it doesn’t suit him to speak. His behavior is questionable at times and he’s pretty good at disappearing when it’s convenient.”

Lulah shook her head. “No, hey, no. Vince is a good person.”

Adam gave her a long stare. “Vince could be anyone. He’s in the perfect situation for the activists. He’s befriended you. Does he have access to your computer?”

Marlo broke in. “Adam, back off. Vince is fine.”

Adam stayed with Lulah. “Is that what you think?”

She swiped at her eyes. “Jesus, I don’t know…yes, he’s a good person. He has nothing to do with this.”

“They’ve hacked your online accounts, Lulah, so dig really deep. Have you met anyone you now might think is suspicious?”

“No…I haven’t.”

“What about online? In forums, Facebook, Twitter? Have you engaged in any discussions of that sort?”

“Once again, no! And do you know why?”

Adam watched.

“Because I’m not bright enough to hold my own against them in a debate, so I stay out of that sort of thing.”

‘You’re bright, Lulah, I can see that. And if you’re passionate about something, you can certainly put up a pretty good argument.”

“The words matter with me,” Lulah went back to worrying her ring. “I’m dyslexic. I’ve learned that online, once your spelling lets you down the attacks become personal. If you check all the way back through my status updates you’ll see that I haven’t used Facebook for over a year. If there are new updates on my account, they certainly weren’t made by me.”

Adam nodded. “Thanks, Lulah, that’s all for now.”

Lulah stood to leave.

“Wait, Lulah.” Marlo took hold of her wrist before she turned to Adam. “I want you to apologize.”

He raised one eyebrow. “Pardon me?”

“I think you should apologize.” She fixed him with a quiet, calm stare.

They faced off for a second before Adam turned away, not willing to step up to her challenge. “Lulah, you can go. Thanks for your help. I’m sorry if I seemed harsh. I might need to talk to you later.”

“Over my dead body,” Marlo muttered. She waited until Lulah was out of earshot before rounding on Adam. “You prick! Where do you get off treating Lulah like that?” She stalked the room again, back and forward across the office. Fala was in her bed in the corner, and she looked up and whined. “Does that work for you…for your ego? Does it make you feel powerful? Was it good? Did it give you a hard-on, Mr. Cop?”

“No, it doesn’t give me a hard-on. I’m looking for information, Marlo. I’m sorry if that’s unpalatable for you, but that’s how it works.”

“What? By bullying her?”

“I’m doing my job.”

His words hit her like a punch, jerking her chin. “Oh, great, the classic line that’s exonerated bastards for decades. Just following orders.” She shook her head. “You cops are all the same. Whatever made me think you were different?”

Adam stood and blocked her path taking hold of her arms. “Come on, you don’t mean that?”

She stiffened immediately. “Hands off.”

A
dam kept his hold
. Damn. Every time he opened his mouth the mess got bigger.
“Don’t pace, Marlo. Please, stand still and listen to me.” He searched her face, watching her discomfort, ready to dispel her fear. “We must find the source of this quickly. They’ll come after Justice. Getting their hands on him will be the most spectacular coup they could imagine. They are radicals, and they won’t stop until they get what they want. Everyone is vulnerable here…CRAR, any future dogs that are rescued, you—even you’re in danger. This has to be stopped, and I’m sorry if my methods are distasteful, but it is how this stuff works.”

He wanted to add that if she was in danger, well, that’s how he would continue to work, because he would not fuck it up again.

He paused, breathed deep, squeezed his eyes shut, and clutched a handful of control. She had to understand. “You live out here in the country, closeted from the real world, but it doesn’t matter how much protection you put around yourself, how removed you keep yourself from everyone. The real world doesn’t give a shit about that distance when it wants to bust in. That moat you’ve built around your life isn’t impenetrable. We know that already.”

Marlo remained stiff beneath his hands.

Oh, brilliant, now he’d frightened her. Adam’s fingers closed around her arms. “Breathe deep and slow. You know what to do.”

She shook her head.

“Turn around,” he ordered, but she didn’t move. “Marlo, turn around and put your back to me. I’m going to do something to help you.”

She stayed frozen in place.

He quietly begged her not to fight. With a fixed grip, he slowly eased her to turn her back to him, holding her firmly. “I’m going to place a hand on your forehead and one on the back of your head, at the base of your skull. It’s going to help you. It will take you out of the place you’re in right now. Okay?”

She didn’t move, but she didn’t protest so he carefully released one hand and placed it across her forehead. Christ, she was rigid. He continued with his other hand, slipping it beneath the tumble of hair to the base of her skull, and held, praying this would work.

Within his hands, she was clammy with stress sweat. He watched the minutes pass on the wall clock, over the top of her head, and a little after the three-minute mark she started to relax. Her breathing was coming back to normal and gradually she sank against him. “That’s it,” he spoke into her hair. “Well done.”

She relaxed further and leaned into him, and his cock twitched. Oh, hell, not now. Can we please not take inappropriateness to an Olympic-qualifying level? He pitched his hips away slightly, so she wouldn’t feel him. He slipped his hands down to her shoulders. “How is that?”

“Good,” she replied softly.

“Your stress level has dropped?”

Marlo nodded.

“When I was doing that, did it bring up any new issues?”

“I don’t understand?”

“Did you remember or think about anything else, maybe from the past that made you stressed?”

“No.”

She twitched her head to the right, not a full shake of the head that would signify denial, more a flick of distaste. She’s in conflict; there is something there from her past. “We can keep doing this until all the stress has gone. It can be so helpful.”

“I’m fine now. Thank you. What was that, anyway?”

“A little calming technique I learned. It’s called frontal occipital holding.”

“Do they teach that at Police College in your country?”

Adam shook his head. “No, it’s something I learned to do after Emma died. It cured me of some of the more extreme pastimes I’d taken up, like hurtling off the rails and punching walls. That’s the first time I’ve tried it on anyone but myself. I’m glad it worked for you.”

“Me, too.”

Once more she relaxed and pressed herself against him. He would do anything to be able to wrap her in his arms and take all of her stress away. It took every ounce of inner strength he had to steer her over to a chair and sit her down. “Crisis averted. On to the next crisis,” he said, pleased that she would never guess what he really meant.

T
hat thing he’d done
, holding her head, was amazing. The stress had simply slipped away, and…oh, hell…the journalist. How on earth had she missed the journalist? She dragged her teeth over her bottom lip. “Adam, you might want to sit down.”

Adam dropped into a chair, his long legs stretched out before him, ankles crossed. He rubbed his hands through his hair, mussing it until he had a rumpled and rugged effect.

He doesn’t even know he’s done that. Some spend a fortune to get that result; he gets tired and rubs his hands about and looks devastating in the best possible way. His face told her he’d prepared not to be annoyed. “You’ve got to promise not to shout at me.”