As Good As Dead (Griffin Powell Book 4)

by Beverly Barton

  “You’re married, aren’t you?”

  “Yeah. And I don’t want my wife to—”

  “I’ll be out in five minutes to get in my car. Why don’t you follow me home? That way nobody here will know we’re leaving together.”

  When he’d smiled at her, she’d thought the guy had a really nice smile. A kind, gentle smile. She was usually a pretty good judge of character, and her guess was that old Harry was a real gentleman, somebody with a good job and lots of money. Being with a man like that would be a new experience for her, and she kind of liked the idea.

  Harry had parked his car down the street, almost a block away, and walked to her house. She’d been a bit disappointed in the car he drove. Nothing special. No Lincoln or Corvette. Just a dark sedan of some kind. A late-model Chevy, she thought. Maybe the guy wasn’t so rich after all. Despite the chill in the air, she’d waited for him on her front stoop after she unlocked the door to the house she and Ronnie Gene rented on Crenshaw Avenue. The place wasn’t nothing fancy, but it beat the shack they’d lived in when they first got married eight years ago.

  “Come on in.” Shelly opened the door, entered the twelve-by-twelve living room and flipped on the light switch.

  Harry came in behind her, then closed the door and locked it. He glanced around for a couple of seconds, then came up behind her and slipped his arm around her waist. She leaned back into him and was surprised when her hips encountered his erection. The guy was stiff as a poker. He’d probably want to jump in the sack right away, which was okay by her, just as long as she could persuade him to stay at least part of the night.

  “I don’t like guys who don’t hang around for a while afterward,” she told him as she turned slowly and lifted her arms up and around his neck.

  “I’ve got all night.”

  “Your wife’s not expecting you home?” Shelly rubbed herself against him, pressing her mound against his sex.

  He shook his head. “Not tonight.”

  “You want something else to drink first? I got a bottle of rotgut in the kitchen cabinet and a six-pack of beer in the fridge.”

  “I’m fine,” he replied. “Maybe later. After…”

  “Yeah, after.” She grabbed his hand and tugged. “My bedroom’s this way.”

  He followed her like an obedient puppy, out of the living room, down the small, narrow hall and into the bedroom she shared with Ronnie Gene when he wasn’t on the road.

  “Don’t look at the mess,” she said. “I never bother making the bed.”

  Not only did she never bother making the bed, she seldom did a lick of housework of any kind. Once in a blue moon, she’d pick up a little, and she did change the sheets once a month. Ronnie Gene was always complaining that they lived in a pigsty.

  “A pigsty’s good enough for a hog like you,” she’d told him.

  He’d backhanded her, sent her flying halfway across the room. He’d never hit her before, except a couple of times when he’d been drinking. She’d given him fair warning that if he ever struck her again, she’d leave him. That had been a year ago, and he’d been on good behavior ever since.

  Shelly picked up the clothes strewn across the foot of the bed, tossed them on top of the dresser and then turned to Harry. “I like to leave at least one light on. Is that okay with you?”

  “That’s fine with me. I’ll enjoy looking at you.”

  Oh, this guy was going to be fun. She decided right then to give him a seductive strip tease. Nothing too slow, since he was already primed and ready, but just slow enough to get him really worked up.

  “Why don’t you sit on the bed while I get undressed, then I’ll help you take off your clothes.”

  He sat on the bed, anticipation bright in his eyes.

  She removed her sweater first and tossed it onto the floor. Then she stripped out of her blouse and jeans. He sucked in a deep breath when she stood before him in nothing but her bra and panties. Butt floss panties. While he stared at her, his mouth open and his hands balled into tight fists set atop his knees, she leaned over and kissed him. He grabbed her around the waist and toppled her over onto the bed. Hovering over her, he slid his hand into his jacket pocket and pulled out a condom. Before she had a chance to protest, he tore off her panties, unzipped his slacks and freed his jutting penis.

  “You want it pretty bad, huh?” she said.

  He sheathed his dick, which she got a quick glimpse of before he rammed it into her. Not very impressive. A bit on the small side. But Lordy, Lordy, what the guy lacked in size, he made up for in action. He was humping her like there was no tomorrow, like a green kid with his first woman. She wanted to tell him to slow down, to take it easy, but the poor guy was in a frenzy, so she started caressing him, kissing him and whispering sweet nothings in his ear. He seemed to like her touching him and slowed down just a little, but not soon enough to stem the tide of his release.

  “Oh, God!” he cried out just as he ejaculated.

  While relief shuddered through him, he opened his eyes and looked down at her, then smiled. “I had a feeling it was you. Now I know for sure.”

  “Huh? What are you talking about?” She thought she recognized this guy, so maybe it was possible they’d known each other years ago. Not high school, though. The guy was a lot older than she was.

  “You like to play games with me, don’t you, Dinah?”

  “Dinah? My name’s Shelly.”

  “Yes, I know, I know. You can call yourself whatever you like, but we both know who you really are.” He reached between them and cupped her mound. “Deep down inside you’re Dinah. My Dinah.”

  Was this guy nuts or what? He hadn’t had that much to drink over at Barney’s, so he couldn’t be drunk. “Are you on drugs?”

  “I’m high,” he said. “High on you, Dinah.”

  “Jeez, I’m not—”

  He cut off her denial by kissing her, ramming his tongue halfway down her throat. When she felt his hands on her shoulders, pressing her into the bed, holding her down, a trickle of panic jittered in her belly. But as quickly as he’d restricted her, he jumped up and off her.

  “Where’s your bathroom?” he asked.

  “Down the hall. First door on the left.”

  “Why don’t you crawl under the covers and wait for me,” he suggested. “I’ll wash up and be right back.”

  She halfway wished he would leave. The guy had spooked her when he’d called her Dinah. But what did she care what he called her? It wasn’t as if she’d ever see him again after tonight. Besides, the part of her that was afraid of the dark wanted him to stay so she wouldn’t be alone all night. “Are you going to stay?”

  “Of course I’m going to stay. I wouldn’t leave now, not when we’ve only just begun to play our little game.”

  Jacob finished off the piece of chocolate pie he’d ordered for dessert. Lately he’d been skipping meals, working overtime and losing sleep. It bothered him more than he’d let on to anybody other than Dallas that he hadn’t been able to come up with any suspects in Jazzy’s attempted murder case. He was beginning to feel like a total failure as a lawman.

  “More coffee?” Tiffany Reid asked as she stood by his table, coffee pot in hand.

  “Yeah, thanks.”

  “Anything new on finding Jazzy’s attacker?”

  “If there was something new, I’d tell you,” Jacob snapped angrily at Tiffany, then regretted he’d taken his frustration out on her. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to bite your head off.”

  “It’s okay. Really. We’re all worried about her, you know. She’s special to a lot of people.” Tiffany nodded toward the corner booth at the back where Reve Sorrell sat nibbling on a salad. “Especially her. She calls the hospital ten times a day.”

  He looked back toward Reve, who didn’t even notice him. Although she was eating a bite now and again, she didn’t seem totally conscious of what she was doing, as if she was simply eating out of habit.

  “Yeah, I guess it’s pretty rough on Ms. Sorrel
l.” Ever since the night of Jazzy’s attack, Jacob had seen a different side of Reve, a side he liked. It was apparent to everyone that she genuinely cared about her sister. Hadn’t she called in specialists from across the country, at her own expense, to help Jazzy? Hadn’t she taken over the reins at Jazzy’s restaurant and bar so neither place would have to close down?

  Tiffany poured Jacob’s cup to the brim, then smiled at him and walked on to another customer. He took a sip of the hot liquid, then put down his cup. After scooting out of his booth and standing, he picked up the cup and walked back toward the booth where Reve sat. When he stopped directly beside her, she glanced up at him.

  “Evening,” he said.

  She nodded.

  “Mind if I join you?” he asked.

  “Please, sit down.” She indicated for him to join her with a wave of her hand.

  He sat, placed his cup on the table and looked at Reve. “Are you all right?”

  “Yes, I’m fine. Why shouldn’t I be? After all, I have protection around the clock, don’t I? One of your deputies or one of Dallas’s men keeps an eye on me day and night.”

  “I wasn’t referring to your safety. I know we’re keeping close tabs on you. I was talking about how you’re handling everything else. Jazzy still being in a coma. A serial killer on the loose and Jazzy’s attacker still at large.”

  “I’m worried. I’m nervous. And I keep wondering what will happen next.”

  “You have to hang on to the hope that Jazzy will come out of the coma soon. She’s tough. If anyone can lick this thing, she can.”

  Reve nodded, then studied him closely, her gaze traveling over him as if he were a bug under a microscope. “Tell me something—why is that, if you love her and she loves you, you two never did—?”

  “There’s love and then there’s love,” Jacob replied, feeling a mite uncomfortable discussing feelings with Reve Sorrell. This woman evoked all kinds of unwanted feelings in him. Not that he’d ever admit it to her, of course. Most people figured Jacob Butler was a big, tough, unemotional kind of man. He wanted to maintain that image. “Jazzy and I love each other like friends, almost like brother and sister.”

  “But you did date each other, didn’t you?”

  “Yeah, we gave dating a try.” Jacob chuckled. “We even kissed a time or two.”

  “And?”

  “Why so curious?”

  “I’m not. And I apologize. I suppose I’m simply trying to make conversation. After all, it’s not as if you and I have anything in common to discuss, other than Jazzy and Genny and Dallas. Right?”

  He had the oddest notion that by that particular comment, she’d been deliberately trying to insult him, and he couldn’t help wondering why. Why now, tonight? Why now, when since the day they’d shared a meal at the Burger Box, they hadn’t traded so much as one insult?

  “Oh, I suppose we could find some things to discuss,” he told her. “There’s the weather. Nice, safe subject. And there’s world events. Or even local events—murder and mayhem. Or is that too personal, considering you could easily be on either killer’s hit list?”

  Tensing, her gaze narrowing, she glared at him. “We could discuss why you haven’t apprehended either killer.”

  His comment had been aimed to counter her snooty remark, but he should have remembered that with Reve, she gave as good as she got. “You know how to hit below the belt, don’t you, Ms. Sorrell?”

  “What’s wrong, Sheriff, did I hit a sore spot?”

  “You know you did. You aimed and fired a direct hit. But that was your intention all along, wasn’t it? For some reason, you want to put up a barrier between us again.” He reached over and grabbed her hand. Her gaze collided with his. “Have I got you running scared?”

  “Let me go.” She tugged on her hand. He held fast. With her gaze firing darts into him, she snarled. “I’m not the one running scared.”

  “Are you implying—?

  “If the shoe fits—”

  “I thought we’d called a truce. What happened? Did you get to liking me a little too much?”

  “What a stupid thing to say.”

  He turned her hand over in his, clasped her fingers and caressed her palm with the pad of his thumb. “What bothers you the most, the fact that you’re attracted to a quarter-breed roughneck or the fact that despite your recent friendly overtures, I haven’t come knocking on your door?”

  Her mouth gaped open, as if she couldn’t believe he’d said such a thing to her.

  “Better close your mouth, honey. You’ll catch flies if you leave it that way.”

  “You are without a doubt the most infuriating man I’ve ever met.” She clenched her teeth. “You have an ego the size of the Smoky Mountains. I am not attracted to you. And I have not been waiting, with bated breath, for you to come knocking on my door.”

  “If you say so.”

  “I say so!”

  “Then if I showed up on your doorstep later tonight, you’d send me away. Right?”

  She stared at him in total disbelief, but he caught a glimmer of another emotion. Anticipation, maybe? He should be shot for deliberately aggravating her, especially now, but God forgive him, he couldn’t stop himself. It was either make her mad or drag her out of the restaurant and into the nearest dark corner where he could fuck her.

  He’d lay odds that although Ms. Sorrell had probably been made love to by several wealthy, cultured gentlemen, she’d never been fucked by a quarter-breed, ex-Navy SEAL hellion.

  “You’re deliberately being insulting,” Reve told him.

  “How did I insult you?”

  “By implying that I want something…something intimate with you.”

  “What do you mean by intimate?” he teased.

  She flushed. “You know exactly what I mean.”

  “If you’re talking about fucking, then just come right out and say so.”

  “You’re infuriating, insufferable, crude, rude and—”

  “And you want me anyway.”

  Exasperated, Reve gasped. “I do not want you.”

  He chuckled. She fumed.

  “What if I told you that I want you?” he asked.

  Her eyes widened.

  Suddenly Jacob’s cell phone rang.

  Damn! Just when their conversation was getting interesting.

  “Hold that thought, will you, honey,” he told her as he retrieved his phone and flipped it open. “Sheriff Butler here.”

  “Jacob, it’s Dallas.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Genny’s had another vision. She’s seen another murder. A strawberry blonde this time. Young. Pretty. He drugged her, raped her and then strangled her.”

  “Has this already happened? Or do we have a shot at saving this woman?”

  “Don’t know. Genny’s pretty shook up. She’s in the bathroom vomiting. I don’t want to leave her for long, but she insisted I call you. She thinks she recognized the area where he either has or will dump the body.”

  “Where?”

  “She thinks it’s somewhere in or around Tayanita Springs, right here in Cherokee County.”

  “Tayanita Springs feeds into several creeks. Does she have any idea—”

  “That’s as specific as it gets. And I’m not going to let her go under again.”

  “Yeah, I understand. You take care of Genny. I’ll get somebody out to Tayanita Springs right away,” Jacob said. “Maybe we’ll luck out and catch this guy in the act.”

  The minute he returned his phone to the belt holder, Reve grabbed his arm. “What’s wrong? Is Genny all right?”

  “She will be, if she’ll let Dallas take care of her. She had another vision, saw another murder.”

  “Who?”

  “She didn’t recognize the woman. Another redhead.” Jacob picked up his cup and downed several swigs of the warm coffee. “Look, Reve, I’ve got to go. Tim Willingham is coming by in about an hour to take over. He’ll see you home and keep watch on Jazzy’s apartmen
t tonight.”

  “Where are you going?” She squeezed his arm.

  “To see if we can stop a murder before it happens—or at the very least catch a killer before he gets away.”

  Reve released his arm, but stood when he did. She looked at him with concern in her big, brown eyes. He wanted to kiss the breath out of her. Heaven help them both.

  “Please, be careful,” she said softly, almost as if she didn’t want him to hear her.

  “Worried about me, honey?”

  “You don’t make it easy for me to be nice to you.”

  “Is that what you’ve been doing—being nice to me?”

  “I try, but you—”

  He tapped his index finger over her lips, then let his finger settle there for a couple of seconds. “Soon, Miss Reve, very soon, you and I are going to have to come to terms with this hot, nasty, gut-twisting thing that’s driving us both crazy.”

  She didn’t say a word when he removed his finger from her lips. She simply stood there staring at him. He turned and walked away, stopping to pick up his suede jacket and Stetson on his way out of the restaurant.

  CHAPTER 24

  The whole county was in an uproar over the most recent murder. Shelly Bonner’s body didn’t show up for two days after Genny’s latest vision. Jacob’s and Dallas’s combined forces had gone over every tributary of Tayanita Springs, but since the springs, high up in the mountain, fed several creeks that meandered through the county, it had taken them a good forty-eight hours to locate a body. The assumption was that although the body had been dumped into Tayanita Springs, the force of the downhill flow had swept it downstream pretty quickly. Two FBI agents out of Knoxville had shown up yesterday afternoon, only hours after the body had been fished out of Camden Creek. And MacKinnon Media had been playing up the local authorities’ ineptitude, all but calling Jacob a backwoods buffoon. Dallas hadn’t fared much better in the press, but he managed to keep a cooler head than Jacob.

  With continuous phone calls, citizens storming the courthouse and the local and state media camping out on their doorsteps, Jacob had finally escaped to his office, closing the door and warning his deputies to keep everybody out. If he heard one more derogatory comment, he’d wind up knocking out somebody’s lights. He knew himself, knew what a short fuse he had. He could control his temper—up to a point. Once pure rage took over, he was lost. Only the discipline he’d learned in the Navy, during SEAL training, saved him from himself.