Even though he’d been more than a little curious what Tiffany McCord had been about to say next. Did she really think Covington’s wife had actionable evidence? A wife couldn’t be compelled to testify against a husband. But it would do Sam’s case a hell of a lot of good if the woman felt so inclined.
Kate Covington bared her teeth like a rabid dog. “Good. Keep talking, bitch,” she shouted at the other woman. “You’ll be right back in jail, where you belong.”
Sam had no choice but to tighten his hold on her waist while she struggled forward.
A few of the other teachers in the crowd tried to help him by urging her to settle down. Others ushered kids back toward the school—a losing proposition—and a couple of brave souls circled the wronged social-studies teacher and tried to catch her flailing fists.
“You want me in jail?” Tiffany asked, an amused smile on her face. “Where Jeremy is? It’s almost like you’re trying to matchmake.”
Kate Covington lost her mind then. Windmilling her arms, she shrieked and swore until spittle flew from her mouth. Tiffany McCord could have gotten into her car and out of harm’s way at any time since she was the one blocking the other woman’s exit. But instead, the newly freed McCord remained just an inch or two out of reach, like a cat taunting a chained dog. What the hell was her goal here?
So much for his quick stop at the school.
“Mrs. Covington.” He kept his voice low and attempted to be as calming as possible. “Please regain control of yourself. You don’t want to put your job at risk?—”
She slashed at his face and tried to make a grab for the gun at his waist.
Which was how she ended up on the ground in cuffs.
Damn. It.
He read the woman her rights while the school principal belatedly put in an appearance. Reaching for his phone to call for backup—something Sam had hesitated to do earlier since he didn’t want to pull the patrolman away from guarding his son—Sam realized he’d left his cell in the truck in his haste to reach the scene. He glanced toward the pickup and met Amy’s gaze through the windshield. She had a phone to her ear.
Hopefully she’d decided to call the station.
Either way, he didn’t think he’d be giving her a lift home anytime soon.
AMY QUICKLY REALIZED she should not have answered Sam’s phone.
She had debated what to do when it rang the first time, but she’d ignored it. When it rang again shortly afterward—the caller ID showing a local number but no contact name—she started second-guessing herself.
Sam didn’t appear to have any kind of police radio in the truck. What if the only way his department could contact him was by the phone? For all she knew, there could be a holdup taking place nearby or a kidnapped child.
He’d want to know.
But as soon as a young woman’s voice had burst through the phone, pleading with Amy to reassure Sam that the caller was working hard to get her life in order so she couldsee Aiden again... Amy was in way over her head. As in drowning.
“Ma’am.” She cut the woman off midsentence while watching Sam try to reason with the feuding pair in the parking lot. Her grip tightened on the portable baton in her purse, the stress of the conversation making her tense. “I just happened to have been holding the sheriff’s phone. He’s on police business. I don’t know him well at all. Could you call him back?”
She didn’t want to get involved in his personal affairs. Even if she hadn’t kissed him, she’d want to keep the mother of his child at arm’s length. Now? She didn’t want to end up in a hissing match like the two ladies ready to draw blood on school grounds.
Thank God Sam could handle himself. Her heart had been in her throat when the teacher tried to reach for his weapon. But Sam had moved with ease for such a large man, quickly incapacitating the woman while not harming her, which she knew from her self-defense classes wasn’t as easy as he made it appear. Thankfully, a police car had pulled into the parking lot a few moments after the scuffle.
“No. Please. He hasn’t been picking up when I call.” The woman sounded urgent. “I just want to hear how Aiden is doing.” Her voice hitched. “I miss my baby so much even if I’m not in a good place right now to take care of him.”
Amy closed her eyes and wondered what to do. As much as she wished she hadn’t fielded this call, she couldn’t just hang up on the woman if those emotions were real. Still gripping the baton in her lap, she watched out the windshield as Sam turned over the social-studies teacher to a young uniformed officer.
“Aiden is fine,” she admitted, aching for whateverthis woman was going through. “I saw him this morning, and I can assure you he’s being well taken care of.”
“Oh, thank you. So much.” Her tearful relief was so obvious Amy had no doubt the other woman’s condition must be serious. Otherwise she’d be taking care of the baby she clearly cared about. “I just—” She sniffed on the other end of the call, the connection a bit unsteady as if she spoke from somewhere rural. “Can you tell Sam that I’m working hard to get better? That I will come back soon to see Aiden?”
She was uncomfortable getting involved in Sam’s personal life, but she couldn’t find it in her heart to refuse. Her gaze locked on the too-damn-sexy sheriff as he strode toward the truck even now.
“I’ll tell him.” She disconnected.
The driver’s-side door opened, and he took a seat beside her. “That mess is done, and apparently J.D., Megan and Bailey have all left school anyway. Sorry.”
She passed him the phone. “Sam, I hope you’re not upset, but I have a message for you. I really debated answering your phone when it rang, but I was worried it could be your work. The number was local but unidentified.” She realized she still had the baton in her other hand and tried to slide it back into her purse discreetly, but she noticed his gray gaze followed her movements.
