by Rita Herron
He’d watched enough Law & Order to know how the system worked. If that bitch from the woods told that asshole sheriff about their cult, and the sheriff found out Trash was involved, and the sheriff put pressure on Trash or offered him a deal…
God, why hadn’t Tommy kept his damn mouth shut?
Panic clawed at him as he swung his Jeep toward Trash’s street. He had to talk to his friend. Make sure he kept quiet.
Shaking like a leaf in the wind, he peered through the dark, saw Trash’s new truck in the driveway and threw the Jeep into Park. What if Trash’s mother was home?
She might smell the weed.
Sweat poured down his back, but he took a deep breath, opened a pack of Juicy Fruit and crammed a piece in his mouth. Jamming his ball cap over his eyes, he lumbered out, holding the side of the Jeep to steady himself before he climbed the steps. The garage light was on. Trash couldn’t have been home long. The others had all scattered, too, like ants being chased from an anthill.
He checked the garage, but Trash’s mother’s car was not inside. A good sign. Now talk to Trash. Make sure he kept quiet.
Legs wobbling, Tommy climbed the steps, knocked and waited. A second later, Trash opened the door. Soot and black paint still darkened his face and hands, and his clothes reeked of dope and the campfire.
“Your mom’s not home?” Tommy asked. Trash was munching on a bag of barbecue potato chips.
“She’s out with her girlfriends.”
And Trash’s dad had run off years ago.
“Come on in, man,” Trash said. “I’ve been thinking about what you told me earlier.”
Nerves pinged in Tommy’s chest like bowling pins crashing and toppling down. “That’s why I’m here.”
He needed to coax his pal outside. Lure him somewhere. Tommy had a baseball bat in his car.
“Listen,” Trash said, eyes still wired from the crack he’d snorted before Tommy had shown up. “You said it felt good to kill your mother?”
“You can’t go talking about that,” he exclaimed. “No one can know.”
Trash gave him the coldest look Tommy had ever seen, as if the devil had jumped into his skin. “Then you have to do something for me.”
“What?” Hell, he’d do anything.
“Help me kill my old lady.” Trash’s eyes lit up. He was wired now. “It’ll be fun.”
Tommy’s mouth gaped. “You’re serious?”
“As shit.” Trash yanked him down the hall, then opened the basement door and rushed down the dark stairs. “Come on, we’ll make a plan. Then we’ll hide and wait until she gets home. And tonight, it’s bye-bye, Mommy.” Trash snapped his fingers. “We can even cut off some of her hair and use it in one of the rituals.”
Tommy grinned. Maybe this was his way out. After all, if Trash killed his own mama he wouldn’t rat him out. The first killing had come easy. What was one more?
MURDERED BODIES, BUG-EATEN SKIN, old women buried in the kudzu—when would it end?
A.J. staggered into his apartment and opened the cabinet, hoping he had another bottle of bourbon inside, but shit, no. He’d finished it off the night before. And Buck had actually thrown him out tonight, told him he’d call his daddy if he didn’t call it a night.
Fucking loser bartender shouldn’t be able to tell the sheriff what to do. A.J. would make sure the guy received a few extra parking tickets. Hell, he’d can his liquor license, but no sense cutting off his own nose to spite his face.
The buzz of alcohol from the Ole Peculiar still surged through his veins. He collapsed on the sofa and closed his eyes, but in his mind, he saw that bug-infested, half-eaten body, bones rotting in the dirt. He’d had to do something to banish that image. A.J. had never had a weak stomach, but over the years he’d developed an aversion to corpses. Probably because he’d seen so damn many in this town. Every time he turned around someone was killed.
Ivy Stanton’s face flashed in his head, the sight of her pale cheeks as she’d described her attack, and his gut clenched. For her, he’d wanted to be a hero tonight. For the first time in a long time, he wished he could erase his past. Forget what had happened fifteen years ago.
Hadn’t he paid enough penance for that night already?
Matt had already moved in on Ivy, though. A.J. had seen the look in his old friend’s eyes—not just lust, either, like he’d have expected. But as if Matt actually cared about the woman.
Matt was an ex-con. What would a woman see in that? Not a future…
He closed his eyes again, imagining Matt going back to jail where he belonged, and Ivy turning to him for help. He’d be her savior.
That is, unless she remembered more…
Then, hell, what would he do? Call his daddy for help again?
His head rolled back, and exhaustion weighted his limbs. Seconds later, he fell into a fitful sleep. The years rolled away and he was at Red Row.
Lily had been the most beautiful of the hookers. Hell, today guys would call her a M.I.L.F.—a Mother I’d Like to Fuck.
She was just as beautiful naked as he’d thought she’d be, just as talented and sexy. His body burned just dreaming about her.
But then everything went blank.
He jerked awake, the telephone cutting into the stale silence in the room. He rubbed at his bleary face and frowned. Hell, what now?
He yanked up the phone. “Sheriff Boles.” He leaned his head back, hoped he hadn’t slurred his words.
“Sheriff, this is Lady Bella Rue.”
A moan rumbled from his mouth. “What do you want?”
“There’s something sinister happening tonight,” she said in that spooky voice that grated on his nerves. “Danger is in the air. Another killing will take place. Maybe more than one.”
He mentally called her a thousand names. “And where is this killing going to take place?”
“I…I can’t be sure, but you must do something to prevent it.”
Yeah, yeah. Like he could stop all this evil. “All right. Who’s going to be murdered? And who’s doing the killing?”
A long silence stretched out. “I can’t tell you that, but I feel it in my bones. I see the darkness, hear the cries of death and terror—”
A.J. severed the line. The old kook needed to get a life or have her visions come through more clearly. A location, name, anything would help, not just these cryptic messages.
The telephone trilled again, and he picked it up, ready to tell her off. But a man’s voice brought him up short.
“Sheriff, this is the medical examiner.”
A.J. sat up straighter, blinking to focus. “What is it?”
“We identified that body you found near the river. You won’t believe who it was.”
A.J. swallowed. He had no earthly idea. “Who?”
“Jerry Mahoney.”
A.J.’s buzz morphed into an adrenaline rush. Everyone thought that Matt’s father had run off years ago. No one had reported him dead.
No wonder. Because someone had killed him.
Had Matt done away with his father?
A.J. scrubbed his hand over his chin, hung up, then stumbled into the bathroom and splashed cold water on his face. This new information might solve his problems. Arresting Matt for killing his daddy would prevent him from snooping around and teaming up with Ivy.
Seconds later, A.J. ran out the door and called his father, to tell him how they could stop Mahoney in a way that didn’t include violence. He had to make one more stop before Matt’s. He’d drop by and inform Mrs. Mahoney that he’d found her old man.
He wondered if she’d cry over the bastard’s body or if she’d throw a party.
IVY STARTED IT. FIRST JUST a lazy kiss on the neck. Next, her lips had brushed his chin. Then his scar. Then her fingers had tiptoed across his chest, plucking at his buttons.
Matt lay perfectly still, pretending sleep. Trying to resist. Praying she’d stop and fall asleep.
Praying she wouldn’t.
Sugary-sweet t
ouches floated across the hair dusting his torso. Her lips pressed into his throat. She whispered his name so softly it sounded like notes on a piano. And slowly, ever so erotically, her tongue found his ear.
He moaned silently. Or maybe it was out loud—who could tell? His heart beat like a drumroll, out of control. Sighing her name, he grabbed her hands to stop their torture, then rolled to face her. She lay on her side, a sultry smile on her lips as she looked into his eyes. He read the longing. The tenderness. The trust. And his heart shattered.
“I thought you were asleep,” she whispered.
“I thought you were.”
She smiled. “I couldn’t sleep.”
“And you think I could with you kissing me like that?”
She laughed, the first happy sound he’d ever heard from her, and his throat closed. Ivy was the type of woman who should always be laughing. Who should be happy.
But he couldn’t give her joy. He had found the strength somehow to turn away from her before. He needed that resolve now.
But it deserted him, and he felt as weak as a newborn kitten. Starved for another kiss.
She seemed to sense the change, and her eyes turned molten. Desire and need flickered, as well as determination, a heady combination that sent heat bolting through him.
He cradled her face in his hands, stroked her hair from her cheek. The reservations he’d had earlier still whispered in his head, but he shut them out, like closing the door on an unwanted guest.
Even if he didn’t deserve pleasure, Ivy did. He wouldn’t deny her.
Still, he struggled to be a stand-up guy. “Ivy…we shouldn’t do this.”
“It’s just us right now, Matt. No past. No tomorrow.”
No ugly ghosts hiding in the closet to haunt them.
But there were still secrets….
Emotions thickened his throat so he couldn’t speak, but words weren’t necessary. All he needed was to touch Ivy.
Praying he wouldn’t hurt her, he traced a finger along her cheek, loving the smooth silkiness of her skin. He lowered his head and pulled her up to him, claiming her mouth with his own. Hunger surged through his bloodstream, the yearning so powerful he sighed into her mouth and thrust his tongue between her lips to taste her. She met his need with her own, deepening the kiss and spearing her hands along his shoulder blades. Downward they roamed, massaging his muscles, coaxing his response, urging him to move faster, to make love to her.
When she pushed at his shirt, he hissed between his teeth, then sat up and tore off the garment and flung it to the floor. His eyes met hers, and he saw his own passion reflected in the depths. Then he lowered his fingers to pluck at her nightshirt, slowly unbuttoning the pearl buttons, inhaling sharply as her bare breasts came into view. Seconds later, he cupped and kneaded her mounds, licking and kissing the soft peaks, biting at the rigid points until she writhed against him.
“God, Matt…I never knew I could feel like this.”
“Like what, Ivy?”
“Like I’d die if I didn’t get closer to a man. The burn, the ache. I want you so badly it hurts,” she whispered.
Her soft admission fueled his hunger, and he peeled off the gown until she lay naked beside him. His breath caught in his chest, and he could only stare at the beauty beside him.
“Matt?”
He pressed a soft kiss to her lips. “Please let me look.”
A pure feminine smile curved her mouth, and she tenderly tunneled her fingers through his hair. “I want to see you, too.”
“Later,” he growled. For now, he drank in the sight of her breasts, heavy and full, glistening with moisture from his mouth. His eyes traced the curve of her hips, down to the thatch of yellow-blond curls at her thighs, and need flared so hot inside him that he thought he might burst. Slowly he lowered his head, licked and tasted her breasts, then traced a fiery path of kisses down her belly.
She threw her head back, moaned and clutched at his arms. “Matt, please…”
“Shh, baby, we’ve got all night. I don’t want to hurry.” He raised his head and looked at her as he spread her legs with his hands. “I’ve waited all my life for this.”
Her cheeks flushed, and he pressed a quick kiss to her mouth, then pulled back and lowered his head to the heart of her. Ivy arched and groaned, fingers tightening around the sheets as he lifted her hips with his hands and plunged his tongue inside her. In. Out. A flick of his tongue across her damp center. Then he sucked her clit into his mouth and she went wild, bucking and crying out in pleasure as her body spasmed in ecstasy. His own desire and hunger heightened by her reaction, he plunged his tongue inside her again, using it as he would his sex, tasting her release and feeling the tremors of her body as she hugged him.
“Oh, Matt,” Ivy whimpered. “I…want you.” She yanked at his arms. “Here. Let me touch you, feel you, look at you.”
Her softly muttered plea almost pushed him over the edge.
But he had only meant to give her pleasure. Not take his own.
She reached for his belt and his sex hardened, pulsing to be inside her. Her fingers brushed his belly, and he sucked in a breath and felt the first notch of his belt come undone just as his sanity and resolve shattered.
But something rattled outside, and he froze. The whistle of the wind? An animal? Or somebody? The sound broke the silence again, and he jerked upright. Was someone in the woods near the cabin?
Nerves on alert, reminding himself that Ivy was in danger, that a killer was after her and he was supposed to be protecting her, he pressed his hand over hers to stop the torture.
“Matt, what is it?”
“Shh.” Body strung tight, he stood and stalked to the front door, glanced out the window. Thought he saw someone in the woods beyond.
A bright blue light twirled in the distance, and a siren wailed over the mountain. He rushed back to the doorway of the bedroom. “Get dressed.”
“What is it?” Ivy asked in a choked voice.
“The cops,” Matt said, as the squad car roared to a stop outside.
He refastened his belt, hurriedly pulled on his shirt, buttoning it up as he raced back to the front window and peered outside.
Déjà vu flooded him, and fifteen years rolled away like they’d never happened as he watched the sheriff stalking up the steps toward him.
IVY THREW ON A PAIR of jeans and a brown sweater, dragged a brush through her hair, her hands trembling as the knock sounded. Why would the cops come out to her place in the middle of the night?
“Maybe they found the boy who attacked me,” she said.
Matt shot a skeptical look over his shoulder. “Then why the lights and siren?”
She clutched his arm, willing him to be calm as he opened the door.
Sheriff Boles stood on the porch, rain dripping off his hat, his look somber as he stared at Matt, then behind him to Ivy. “I checked next door and realized you weren’t there, so I figured you’d be here. I need to talk to you, Mahoney.”
“Sounds official, A.J.” Matt stepped aside and allowed him entrance, but his body went stone-cold rigid.
“It is.” The sheriff kicked dirt and leaves from his boots, but instead of entering, remained in the doorway. “Actually, I need you to ride down to the sheriff’s office with me.”
Matt folded his arms, his mouth set in a grim line. “What’s this about, A.J.?”
“Did you find out who attacked me?” Ivy asked.
“Not yet, but I’m working on it,” the sheriff said. “But we did learn the identity of the body in the woods by the river.”
Ivy pressed a hand to her pounding heart. “Who was it?”
The sheriff angled his head toward Matt. “Your father.”
Matt faltered, shifting slightly in shock, and Ivy clutched his arm.
“You found my father? Dead?” he asked in a hoarse voice.
“The coroner just called. The dental records prove it’s Jerry Mahoney.”
“Does my mother know?” Matt a
sked.
A.J. hooked his thumbs in his belt loops. “I stopped by and told her before I came here.”
“How…did she take it?”
The sheriff cut his eyes away. “She seemed fine. Not surprised, really.” Another suspicious look from the sheriff made Ivy realize the implication—he thought Matt’s mother had covered for him, that he had killed his father.
A.J. tilted his head toward the door. “Come with me, Matt. I need you to answer some questions.”
“You think I killed my old man?” he asked harshly.
“I don’t know,” the lawman said calmly. “But we both know you hated him. And with good reason. Now, are you coming with me willingly, or do I need to handcuff you?”
Matt’s face blanched at the idea, and tears pressed against Ivy’s eyelids.
Tension stretched taut between the men. “No, I’ll come,” Matt barked. “But someone needs to watch out for Ivy. She received another threatening phone call tonight.”
The sheriff slanted her an odd look. “I’ll have my deputy ride out here.”
Ivy stroked Matt’s back. “Matt, what can I do?”
“Stay put and keep the doors locked until I return.” He angled his head toward her, and the pain in his eyes nearly made her knees buckle. “And call Abram Willis for me.” He reached inside his pocket and pulled out the number. “Explain what happened.”
She nodded. “I will, and Matt—” she gave him an imploring look, willing him to trust her “—it’ll be okay this time. I promise.”
But the desolation in his eyes indicated he didn’t believe her. Ivy realized then just how truly damaged his soul had become over the years. Heartache engulfed her, but she vowed to prevent history from repeating itself.
This time she’d do everything she could to keep Matt from going to prison.
And then she’d prove to him that he had a life to look forward to, that she wanted to build that life with him.
That she cared about him and that they couldn’t allow their pasts to ruin their future.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
KILLING TRASH’S MOTHER turned out to be as sweet as eating apple pie.
Tommy and Trash had laid the trap perfectly. First, pretend they were asleep. Sack out in Trash’s room, Trash on the bottom bunk, Tommy on the top. Tommy had lain perfectly still, feigning a light snore when she had tiptoed in and checked on Trash. Trash had sprawled on his stomach, while the stereo blared heavy metal rock in the background. She had turned down the volume, clicked on her heels back to her own room and gone to bed. The two of them had dissolved in laughter, muffling the sounds with their pillows for a good half hour, giving her time to fall asleep.