Last Kiss Goodbye

by Rita Herron

“A group of teenagers, all dressed in black hooded sweatshirts, with their faces and hands painted black, had gathered in the woods around a big bonfire. It looked like they belonged to a cult of some kind. They…killed a goat…and put its bloody carcass beside the river. They were about to cut off a chicken’s head, and…they were chanting and smoking weed, and oh, God…then they said something about a body.” Her voice cracked again. “Then he saw me.”

  The fear that had clawed at Matt’s chest mounted, snatching the air from his lungs. “Who saw you? What body?”

  “One of the boys. He chased me into the woods and tried to strangle me.” She inhaled sharply. “I think they were digging up a body. Or…maybe they buried someone.”

  Unable to help himself, Matt yanked her closer and wrapped his arms around her. Fear and anger warred with the need for vengeance against the person who’d hurt her. She felt small and so damn feminine that his heart raced, a dozen emotions pummeling him at the same time.

  “Matt…” She clutched at his chest, her tears soaking his shirt. He stroked her back, murmuring soft words of comfort, hating the way her slender frame trembled, and despising the boy who’d frightened her.

  Finally, her breathing steadied and her tears subsided. Her eyes turned luminous in the darkness as she stared up at him.

  He wiped a fresh tear from her face with the pad of his thumb, then tilted her chin up to examine her injuries. The pale skin of her throat looked red, bruises already forming deep purple-and-yellow marks around her neck. Emotions crowded his chest. He’d sworn to protect her, yet she’d almost died tonight.

  “We’re going to report this to the sheriff,” Matt said in a thick voice. “And from now on, Ivy, you don’t go anywhere in this town without me.”

  MATT REMAINED A PILLAR of strength as Ivy leaned into him. He helped her to his SUV and drove to the jail, then ushered her inside, his arm still protectively encircling her.

  The sheriff jerked his head up from his desk, a surprised look dawning. “Mahoney. Miss Stanton.”

  “I wasn’t sure you’d be here on a Friday night,” Matt said.

  “I’m never off-duty, not during a murder investigation.”

  Matt nodded. “Ivy has something to tell you.”

  Ivy glanced into Matt’s eyes for encouragement, then accepted the wooden chair across from the sheriff, and a glass of water.

  “What’s going on?” Sheriff Boles asked.

  Ivy reiterated the story she’d shared with Matt, her trembling subsiding slightly at Matt’s calm demeanor. He remained behind her chair, one hand on her shoulder, a comforting gesture that kept her from falling apart as she recounted the details of the attack.

  “If this wolf hadn’t scared the boy off…he would have strangled me.”

  The sheriff frowned, his tone skeptical. “A wolf?”

  “Yes.”

  “Odd. Don’t see many of them around here.”

  Ivy remembered the stuffed one on Lady Bella Rue’s porch and bit her lip. The big animal had looked exactly like that stuffed creature, the same size… No. Lady Bella Rue might be a root doctor, but she couldn’t perform magic. And she couldn’t conjure a live animal from a dead one. No one could.

  “Did you get a look at the boy’s face?”

  Ivy shook her head, racking her brain for any detail that might help. “The hood completely covered his face and hair, and like I said, he’d blackened his skin with paint.”

  “Was he tall? Thin? Heavy?”

  “Taller than me, about five-eight maybe. And he was muscular but wiry. He had long limbs and…strong hands.”

  “You said there was a whole group of them?”

  “Yes.” Ivy twisted her fingers together. “They appeared to be performing rituals, maybe sacrificing animals. Some of them were chanting around the fire.”

  “And you smelled weed?”

  “Yes.”

  Sheriff Boles’s boots hit the floor with a resounding thud. “Guess I’d better check it out. I’ve suspected some of the teens around here might be hanging out by the river, up to no good, but haven’t been able to pin anything on them yet.”

  “They’ve done this sort of thing before?” Matt asked.

  The sheriff nodded. “I’ve found bloody towels, a few decapitated chickens, a pit of snakes once, and they’ve disturbed the graveyard a couple of times. Always when we have one of these rainy spells.” He holstered his gun. “But so far, no one’s actually caught them in the act. Although I do have a couple of boys in the back now. Caught them vandalizing.”

  Ivy wrestled with her nerves as she stood. “So he didn’t want me to report him, that’s why he tried to kill me?”

  “Probably. Do you think you can lead me to the spot where they met?”

  She nodded.

  Matt cleared his throat. “It could be dangerous, A.J. Do you think it’s smart to take Ivy out there?”

  Ivy reached for his arm to calm him. “It’s all right, Matt. I’m worried about Lady Bella Rue. I have to do this.”

  Matt cut her a sharp look, tension vibrating between them. “Then I’m going with you.”

  Ivy didn’t argue. Revisiting the place where she’d almost died had her pulse pounding. And the prospect of going into the woods alone at night with Matt’s old friend, even if he was the sheriff, made her even more nervous. Behind that uniform and badge lurked a sinister side just waiting to surface.

  Ivy didn’t want to be around when he finally unleashed it.

  TWENTY MINUTES LATER, MATT gritted his teeth as he, A.J. and Deputy Pritchard followed Ivy through the cold, dark woods. Mud from the wet ground kept clumping on his boots. Night sounds of skittering animals, rustling trees and the river rushing over rocks filled the stony silence.

  “Here’s the clearing where they built the campfire,” Ivy said, stopping beneath an alcove of trees. The remnants of the fire still lingered, smoke billowing upward. The pungent odor of pot filled the air, mingling with charred wood and dead animals.

  “They’re all gone,” she exclaimed. “But there were dozens of them, I swear it.”

  “The kid who attacked you must have made it back and warned the others.” A.J. walked over to a pile of rocks, grimaced and shook his head. Matt followed him and saw the blood, then the carcass of the goat that had been slaughtered. Below, on a rocky ledge, he spotted two chickens, both decapitated, along with a cluster of something that looked like bones.

  “Damn kids in this town aren’t anything but trouble,” A.J. grumbled.

  Just like the two of them had been, Matt thought, but refrained from comment.

  A few beer cans littered the ground, along with a beaded necklace and several feathers. A.J. had brought some evidence bags, so he collected them, then turned to Ivy. “Maybe we’ll get some prints. If I can ID one of the pricks, maybe he’ll give up the name of your attacker.”

  She wrapped her arms around her waist, and Matt moved up behind her. He wanted more evidence, something concrete to tie to the rotten little bastard. “Where were you when he attacked you, Ivy?”

  She bit her lip, then pointed toward the woods, near where they’d entered.

  A.J. gestured to his deputy. “Keep looking around here. I’ll check this out.”

  As they made their way through the heavy brush, Matt searched for footprints or traces of evidence the boy might have left behind. A few feet later, he noticed indentions in the ground where the leaves and dirt had been disturbed.

  “That’s where he knocked me down,” Ivy said in a low voice.

  A.J. shone a flashlight on the area while Matt knelt and examined the spot. He noticed a scrap of fabric caught in a branch, and A.J. plucked it out and slid it into a paper bag.

  “That looks like it came from the boy’s sweatshirt,” Ivy said.

  A.J. nodded. “I’ll have it checked, Ivy, but since the school colors are gold and black, half the kids in this town own black sweatshirts like this. Are you sure you didn’t see anything else? You didn’t recogni
ze anyone? Hear a name, maybe?”

  “No. And I don’t know any of the kids in town,” Ivy answered.

  “Sheriff, come here!” Deputy Pritchard shouted.

  A.J. sprinted back toward the river, and Matt took Ivy’s hand and raced behind him.

  “What is it?” A.J. asked as they broke through the clearing again.

  “Take a look for yourself.” Pritchard pointed to the dirt at the edge of the woods.

  The three of them joined the deputy, and Matt’s stomach clenched.

  “Oh, my God!” Ivy rasped. “They did find a body.”

  “Yeah.” Pritchard grunted. “And the poor bastard’s been here a while.”

  Ivy stared at it in shock as Matt tugged her against him. Rotting skin had disintegrated from the bone, bugs having feasted on the flesh. What was left of the body looked brown and gray, just brittle bone.

  A.J. reached for his cell phone. “I’ll call a crime scene unit and the medical examiner.”

  “Come on,” Matt said softly. “I’ll take you back to your cabin, Ivy.”

  She nodded against his chest. “But my car—”

  “We’ll get it later.”

  Tension hovered in the air as they hurried to his Pathfinder, climbed inside and drove toward Cliff’s Cabins.

  Who was buried there by the river? Matt wondered. Had the kids known the corpse was there, or had they just happened upon it during their cult ceremony?

  An image of Ivy almost dying flashed back, and panic slithered through his limbs. He wanted to take her into his arms. Wanted to hold her all night. Remind himself that they were both still alive.

  Hell, he wanted to make love to her. He had from the first moment he’d laid eyes on her again.

  But what did Ivy want?

  HE WANTED IVY. But he couldn’t have her.

  Frustration ate at him. The trouble was escalating. Ivy and Mahoney were getting closer, land there was nothing that he could do to stop them, short of murder.

  Sweat beaded on his forehead, tension knotted his muscles as he neared Red Row. If he couldn’t have Ivy…

  Chantel would be good. Yes, she would do.

  No. He couldn’t get too close to any one hooker. Money talked. And these girls wanted to make a dime any way they could. Scruples be damned. They’d open their legs for one man one minute, their mouths the next—and not just for sex. They’d talk for the right price.

  And no one could know that he was in Kudzu Hollow.

  Especially Ivy or Matt Mahoney.

  Damn man.

  He’d taken up with Ivy as if he owned her. And she looked at him as if he had hung the moon and her safety rested on his shoulders.

  A chuckle rumbled in his chest at the irony. She was not safe with Mahoney. In fact, just the opposite. Hooking up with him had put her in more danger.

  Both would have to be disposed of.

  He would take care of them later. First he needed to release his tension before he exploded. He parked at Red Row, and five minutes later, sprawled restlessly in bed with a redhead with tits the size of melons. As the woman touched him, began to pleasure him, his mind drifted to Ivy. She was so beautiful. Pale skin. Delicate lips. Golden silky hair. Just like her mother.

  The redhead’s fingernails scraped over the bare flesh of his belly and his body quivered. “What’s wrong, hon? You seem distracted.”

  Dammit, his penis had softened. He silently chided himself for mentally losing ground. Couldn’t let this slut think he was incapable of meeting her demands.

  Could she meet his?

  He flipped her over to her stomach, threaded the silk cords around her wrists and tied her to the bedposts. She moaned and complained, tugging at the bindings, but the minute his tongue licked its way down her back and over her buttocks, she shivered. Deciding to test her, he pulled away and reached for her ankles, to tie them, as well. She struggled playfully, but fear echoed in her voice when she moaned.

  Just the way he liked it.

  He smiled and crawled above her, feathering his fingers along her inner thighs but avoiding her sensitive spot until she begged for more. Then he rammed himself inside her, and let the fantasies begin as he took his pleasure.

  One kiss. Two kisses. Three kisses.

  Sigh.

  Four kisses. Five kisses. Six kisses.

  Cry.

  Seven kisses. Eight kisses. Nine kisses.

  Die.

  One last kiss

  and then goodbye.

  CHAPTER TEN

  IVY TRIED TO BANISH the image of the bones sticking through dirt and leaves as she opened the door to her cabin. “Whose body do you think was buried by the river?”

  “I don’t know,” Matt replied. “From the size of the hands, it was probably a man.”

  “Who would bury someone like that without even giving them a proper ceremony?”

  “Someone who wanted to hide the fact that the man was dead,” Matt said matter-of-factly.

  Ivy halted and flipped on the lamp, realization dawning. “You mean he was murdered?”

  Matt shrugged, although a hint of anger—or worry?—still darkened his expression. “Probably.”

  Fear clenched her insides, but she schooled her reaction as she moved quietly to the stove, filled the teakettle with water and placed it on the burner. Remember the routines, the patterns. The walls. Keep yourself safe, Ivy.

  “Lady Bella Rue and Miss Nellie were right about this town,” she whispered.

  “Who is Miss Nellie?”

  “The woman who raised me after my parents died.” Ivy removed two teacups and the sweetener, then offered one to Matt, but he shook his head. She hadn’t really pictured him as a tea drinker, so brewed a pot of coffee.

  “Is she a relative?”

  Ivy shook her head. “She lived in Kudzu Hollow and knew of my family. She’d lost a child of her own when he was little, and thought the two of us should be together. But she took me to Chattanooga so I could escape my past.” Only she never had escaped.

  Matt frowned. “You were close?”

  Ivy contemplated how to answer without sounding callous. “Not really. She was always nice to me, but I felt as if she was holding something back.” Her heart mostly. “She…wasn’t very affectionate.” Guilt pressed against her conscience. “That sounds very ungrateful of me, doesn’t it? The woman gave me a home. No telling where I would have wound up without her.”

  “Having a place to live is a long stretch from having a real home.”

  Pain flickered in Matt’s eyes, and Ivy ached for him. Prison had been a shelter, but certainly no home. And even before prison, he hadn’t had an easy life. And when he was finally released, even his best friend still treated him like a criminal. Judging from his sarcastic comment about his mother, she hadn’t welcomed him, either.

  Matt plucked a leaf from her hair, and a tingle of awareness slid though her, warming her from the chill she’d felt since the attack. He had been protective and kind to her, and that last kiss taunted her. The feel of his lips against hers. The tender way he’d held her.

  But he was only being a friend, hoping she could help clear him.

  The teakettle whistled, shattering the moment. “I…think I’ll take a hot bath. Clean off the dirt and leaves.”

  He inched forward. His gaze met hers, and the raw masculine look in his eyes sent another shiver through her.

  “Are you all right, Ivy?”

  Unexpected moisture pooled in her eyes, and she nodded. But she refused to break down again. Matt had already done so much for her.

  And what had she done for him except add to his trouble?

  He swept a strand of her hair away from her face and traced a finger over her cheek. “Go get your bath, Ivy. I’ll be waiting when you’re finished.”

  “You don’t have to stay, Matt. I’m fine now.”

  His mouth tightened, his feral look daring her to argue. “I want to stay.”

  She wanted that, too. She couldn’t deny it
any more than she could deny the heat rippling between them. But there was more than heat. She was falling in love with him. Matt was tough, had seen the darkest dregs of society in prison, yet his touch remained so gentle that she ached for more of it, for the feel of his fingertips along her nerve endings.

  She couldn’t ask for more from him, though, or get accustomed to having him in her life.

  No. Ivy had been alone forever, and would be once again, when she and Matt discovered her parents’ murderer.

  Afraid she might give in to the temptation to drop her defenses and allow Matt closer, she poured her tea, then escaped to the bathroom. But as she stripped off her dirty clothes and slipped into the warm bubbles, fingers of need and desire coursed through her. She closed her eyes and imagined Matt touching her, gliding his hands against her sensitive skin, stirring passions and pleasures that she’d never experienced before with a man.

  Pleasures that only he could give her.

  AS THE BATHROOM DOOR closed, separating him from Ivy, Matt felt the invisible barrier between them being erected again. Ivy was cautious. Had been hurt. Didn’t let anyone close. He knew that without asking. And he didn’t want to hurt her.

  But God help him, he wanted her.

  An image of her taunted him—Ivy removing her clothes, her naked body glistening with moisture, her nipples peaking and begging for his lips, her arms drawing him into her embrace, her legs spreading for him….

  His sex hardened, the ache that rolled through him creating an emotional need as strong as his physical response. He wanted her so badly he could taste her. Could almost feel her skin beneath his fingertips. Her feminine body pulsing as he slid inside her.

  But reality whistled as sharp and jarring as that damn teakettle had. Ivy had just been mauled and nearly strangled. Remnants of fear had rimmed her beautiful eyes, the leftover horror of seeing that skeleton lingering in the shadows. He could not act on his needs tonight.

  His stomach growled, reminding him of another kind of hunger that he hadn’t bothered to satisfy lately. When had he last eaten? When had Ivy?

  Determined to be a gentleman instead of exploring the heat that had ignited between them, he knocked gently on the door. “Ivy, I’m going to drop by the diner and pick up some supper for us. Will you be okay for a few minutes?”