Page 68 of More than Fiction (Misty Springs #1)

Corbin

I sat in the cramped interrogation room, my hands clenched tightly on the metal table. The flickering fluorescent light above cast an eerie glow over the dull gray walls. This entire place smelled like piss.

Cuffs still bit into my wrists, but at least my arms weren’t forced behind my back anymore. The ache in my shoulder eased, but it still burned.

My mind raced, sifting through every scenario, every possible reason why I was being held on such absurd charges.

Something didn’t add up.

The false charges were one thing, but whatever happened to cause that accident was another. The two had to be connected, the link hiding somewhere.

The sound of footsteps in the hallway snapped my attention to the door.

It opened with a loud creak, and in walked Sullivan, looking like he just stepped off the show Suits .

His expression was one of calculated focus, but his familiar smirk lurked just beneath the surface.

“Well, isn’t this a charming setup?” Sullivan drawled, closing the door behind him.

He pulled out the chair across from me and sank into it gracefully. His briefcase echoed in the tiny room as he hoisted it on the table and clicked it open.

“Let me guess, the coffee here is just as bad as the decor?”

“Sullivan,” I said with a relieved smile. “What are you doing here? ”

“I flew here immediately after leaving last night's board meeting. Davis is up to something, man. It’s not pretty.”

“As much as I hate to admit it, I get the feeling he is too—and he’s not fighting fair.”

Sullivan held my gaze.

My muscles tightened, and unease wormed its way into my chest. I wasn’t sure where Sullivan stood—not really. The three of us had known each other for years, but Davis had a way of shifting loyalties, of turning people in his favor.

“Then we hit back harder,” he said darkly.

The tension in my shoulders eased by a fraction.

I didn’t know how deep this mess went, but at least I knew who stood beside me. And Sullivan was someone you definitely wanted in your corner.

Sullivan pulled some files from his briefcase.

“Anyway, I showed up this morning at the Misty Springs office, and you weren’t there. Andi made some phone calls, we showed up at the hospital, and the Scooby Gang filled me in on the rest.”

“Scooby Gang?” I smirked.

“Oh yeah, the overtly-attractive-but-snarky redhead, the smart-but-subtly-sexy nerdy girl, the goofy guy, the buff, handsome one.”

“You missed a few of them, but it’s strange. I know exactly who you are talking about.”

“Great, you can introduce me to the rest of the gang later. For now, let’s get you out of here.” Sullivan leaned back in his chair, his eyes glinting with something cold and dangerous.

“I know that look. What’s the plan?”

Sullivan loved to joke but didn’t mess around when laying down the law. He was a force to be reckoned with, and he could turn it on at the drop of a hat.

One minute, you’re talking to a carefree goof—the next, you’re being eaten alive.

“First, I deal with the buffoons running this show. Then, we walk out of here. Simple as that.”

Before I could respond, the door swung open. The two officers who had arrested me entered, both looking considerably less confident than when I had first been brought in.

“Gentlemen,” Sullivan greeted smoothly, standing and extending his hand—which neither of them took .

“Sheriff Norwood. Deputy Bates. My client and I were just discussing this unfortunate misunderstanding.” Sullivan buttoned his suit coat as he strode over to me.

“This ain’t a misunderstanding,” Norwood shot back, though his voice wavered. “Mr. Buescher here has been charged—”

“Ah, yes, the fabricated charges,” Sullivan interrupted, his voice like silk over a blade.

He slid a crisp stack of documents across the table.

“This is your problem, Sheriff. Lack of evidence, procedural errors, and, most importantly, the lovely little detail that you falsified an affidavit three years ago. You remember that, don’t you, Norwood?”

The Sheriff’s face darkened, his jaw tightening as Sullivan’s words sank in.

“We’re not here to play games,” Sullivan continued. “You’ll release my client immediately, or I’ll have a field day exposing every skeleton in your department’s closet. And trust me, you’ve got plenty.”

The tension was palpable.

Norwood glared at Sullivan, his jaw ticking under his double chin, but eventually nodded to Bates. “Let him go.”

The deputy sidled over to me, unlocking the cuffs around my wrists. I rubbed at the red marks left behind by the rough metal.

The men wordlessly left the room, defeated and careful not to add more ammunition to Sullivan’s arsenal.

Sullivan turned back to me, his menacing air evaporating. “That was fun, Corby. I like this town.”

“Unbelievable,” I muttered, shaking my head.

Then Sullivan and I walked right out of the station.

The crisp morning air smelled sweeter than usual, and the sight of Devyn, Trevor, and Cassie waiting on the curb filled me with an unexpected comfort.

They had to be freezing, but they stuck around, ensuring I got out.

I spied Sam off to the side, talking on the phone and pacing back and forth on the sidewalk.

“You alright, man?” Trevor asked, stepping forward .

I nodded and swallowed the rising lump in my throat. After years of fighting through life alone, having people rally around me was… overwhelming.

Sullivan sucked air through his teeth, giving the group his signature cocky grin. “You all ever considered getting a dog? Maybe a Great Dane.”

“No need for dogs when these boys are barely housebroken,” Cassie quipped, scratching Trevor’s scruffy face.

Trevor fake-panted and leaned in to lick Cassie’s face before she pushed him away in disgust.

“What was your name again? Daphne?” Sullivan asked, his interest piqued.

“It's Cassie.” She placed her hand on her hips and shot him a glaring look—one I was glad to not be on the receiving end of for once.

“Cassie,” Sullivan drawled, his eyes narrowing on the intimidating redhead. “You’ve got a sharp tongue. I like that.”

Cassie smirked, cocking her head to the side to mimic Sullivan. “And you’ve got an inflated ego. I hate that.”

Devyn snorted, trying to cover her laughter, while Sullivan’s grin widened.

“Oh, I’m going to enjoy getting to know you,” he said smoothly.

I would tell Sullivan later to stop wasting his time on Cassie, but for now, I needed to get back to Sophia.

Sam jogged over to us. “Holy shit, do I have updates. Cassie—can you and Trevor meet your brother and Lana at Yannie’s Body Shop? They said to bring Sullivan... who I’m assuming is you.” Sam said as he gestured his hand toward Sullivan.

“My reputation in this town is already spreading,” Sullivan mused as he adjusted the cuffs of his sleeves.

Cassie rolled her eyes. “Sure, I can put extra newspaper down,” she gibed, then turned and whistled for the two men to follow her.

“Bye, Corby,” Sullivan said gleefully, before whispering over his shoulder, “Wish me luck.”

I shook my head as I watched the three of them walk away.

“Let’s get you back to the hospital. I’m sure Sophia wants to see you.” Devyn placed her hand in the crook of my arm and pulled it.

My shoulder winced in protest at the slight jostle, and I let out a pained groan .

“Thought so. And we need to get your shoulder fixed,” she scolded, storming toward her car in high-heeled boots.

“You ready for this, man?” Sam asked as we walked after Devyn. “It sounds like there’s quite the storm coming.”

“I’m ready. Whoever is behind all of this is going to pay,” I promised. “I’ll make sure of it.”

“We’ll make sure of it,” Sam added, placing his hand on my non-dislocated shoulder.

I couldn’t suppress the smile that formed on my lips. I may be a little worse for wear, but I had an arsenal of people rallying around me.

I was ready for whatever life threw at me next.

Or so I thought.