Caught by Surprise Read Free

himself.
    Brig used his free hand to shake hands with the sheriff. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Deputy Surprise—lord, that name suited her to a tee—straighten with rigid pride. She was trying to look ten feet tall, and his respect for her tripled. He hadn’t meant to get her into trouble, and he felt bad about it. She faced the sheriff with her head high.
    “I overreacted,” she said formally, her bearing almost military. “I was wrong.” She snapped the cuff off his hand and secured the pair back on her belt without looking, her fingers moving with expert skill. She was a warrior going down with her ship in great honor, and Brig didn’t want her to drown on his account.
    “I don’t expect special treatment,” he interjected tactfully. “She was just doin’ her job. Guess I oughta get going with this jail term.” Groans from the crowd indicated that there were a lot more autographs to be signed. She glanced at him and he read the gratitude in her eyes. Brig knew he’d scored a few points for being a good sport.
    “Officially, we don’t have to take you into custody until you step inside the jail lobby,” Raybo told him. “Stay outside and finish your business, Mr. McKay. No hurry.” He glared at Millie. “Deputy, stay here with Mr. McKay. Well discuss this incident later.”
    “Yes, sir.”
    For a second Brig had the feeling that she might salute. He, accustomed to soft and fluffy women, was fascinated by this petite soldier. And charmed. And in big trouble.
    She turned toward him stiffly. If her eyes were the color of spring leaves, then a winter storm had just coated the leaves with ice. Her lightly tanned skin was the kind that showed red when she was upset. Man, was she upset right now. “Continue your business, Mr. McKay,” she said crisply, as someone thrust a copy of his latest album cover into his hands.
    While he signed autographs, Brig squinted one eye at her in a thoughtful way. “You work at the jail full-time, Deputy?”
    “Yes.”
    “Will my life be in your hands?”
    “You might say that.”
    “Is my goose cooked?”
    Millie gave him a fiendish little smile. “To a crisp.”
    He had a cell with a small private bathroom, a window, a plain pine dresser, and brown indoor-outdoor carpeting. He could look out and see the rolling Florida landscape, which included an orange grove and numerous oak trees draped with Spanish moss. Not a bad view, Brig decided, but sure as hell a boring one if hehad nothing else to look at for the next two months. He had his guitar and some notepads, so he guessed he’d write about a thousand songs.
    Subdued and more depressed than he wanted to admit, he sat on his bunk and peered down at his clothes. A friendly-faced deputy named Suds LaFont had taken his regular clothes and given him standard prisoner duds—a white T-shirt, a white short-sleeved shirt that he wore unbuttoned, and baggy white trousers with a blue stripe on the outside seam of both legs—but allowed him to keep his western boots and bush hat. Brig took one more look at his new clothes.
    “I feel like an ice cream delivery man gone bad,” he muttered. He lay down on the bunk, pulled his hat over his face, and concentrated on recalling every detail about Deputy Surprise. He fell asleep wondering how the memory of being tackled and handcuffed could be so pleasant.
    Millie had new resolve as she walked down the hallway between Paradise Springs’ four jail cells. She’d be firm but polite with Brig McKay. This Aussie import wouldn’t wreck her dignity again. She stopped in the hallway outside his cell and stared at his lazy, enticing form on the bunk.
    The man was a marvel. He gave new meaning to the term
laid-back
.
    “Wake up, McKay,” she ordered briskly. She put a magnetized card in the cell’s electronically controlled lock. The door clicked and slid open.
    “Hmmm?”
    “Wake up.” She walked into the cell, crossed her arms over her chest, and waited patiently. “It’s