Roundabout Road (Saving the Sinners of Preacher's Bend Book 2)

by Willow, Jevenna

  Yet there was something telling him he shouldn’t pull his gaze away. Though his brain was telling him to do so, and do so quickly, his heart wouldn’t listen to this demand.

  Expensive briefcase clasped in her one hand, large leather purse slung over her left shoulder, head hung low; her chin was practically touching the coarse cracked pavement. He’d never viewed the woman looking so dejected.

  In an unexpected moment of weakness an overwhelming wave of conscience hit him. Then it passed. When a second, stronger wave hit him right where it hurt, dead to center in the heart, Liddy was still standing in the same spot a full minute later.

  He turned his head from the sight of her and redirected his attention to his food, to the very reason he came into Rachel’s before checking in with Debra. But his eyes were yanked back to the window as if by string. No matter how badly their separation had come about, or even the reasons to why it happened, Liddy could still turn his head her way. She looked totally defeated, as if no amount of energy could force her feet a single inch forward.

  Ah, hell!

  Jake held back his groan from becoming audible. It was bad enough he’d aired out his dirty laundry in the café, but to claim stupidity aloud?

  His conscience was eating him alive. At not only what he’d done to her, but to what he was going to do about it now. Ten years had turned him into a bitter man. But Liddy shouldn’t have had the brunt of his anger thrust upon her so quickly, or so publicly. She was a fragile sort of being. He should’ve thought of this before now.

  His wife was more a China doll than his comparison to GI Joe. She could crack when least expected. Perhaps her presence in Preacher’s Bend should’ve had the proper time to sink before he ripped her to shreds. Maybe then he wouldn’t have been so harsh and judgmental to a woman he hadn’t seen in years.

  Christ! How could he not be judgmental? She destroyed his life . . . and everything they ever had.

  He took an extremely large bite of his hamburger, signaled for Rachel to wrap up the remainder, and with the utmost regret rose from his booth to move toward the cafés exit.

  Liddy’s high heels were firmly planted on the cracked asphalt.

  Jake did not have to walk far to reach her. He came up to her left side, and could already hear his wife’s sobbing from three feet away.

  He might be incredibly angry—with not only her, but at what she’d made him do two years prior—damn, he still felt human, at times. There was still a chance for redemption, still moments left to grab hold of. And if not? Well, life for a man was always an uphill struggle, wasn’t it?

  He turned his wife’s body toward his, placing his hands on either of her shoulders, and caught sight of the look in her eyes where no mere words need be spoken to tell him exactly what was wrong. She’d reached the plateau of absolute disillusion.

  Liddy slowly tipped her blurred vision toward his face and sobbed even more. Without thought, Jake put his arms around her, drawing her to his chest. She placed her forehead against him and let it all out. Ten years of incredible hurt, ten years of shameful regret for leaving him as she had, and for leaving him without saying Good-bye to the only man she’d ever promised her love to. It all came out as dire waterworks soaking his shirtfront.

  Ten years of heart-wrenching hatred must have been eating her from the inside out.

  He didn’t care about the soaking. At the moment, ten years were being wiped away—washed clean, that from this moment forward they would be starting with a clean slate.

  When Liddy could finally speak, he pushed her away, but only far enough and certainly not out of his grasp. He wanted to be able to look her in the eyes. She looked ready to collapse.

  “This wasn’t what either of us wanted after all these years. Was it?” he offered softly.

  Liddy shook her head.

  “Let me walk you to your car.”

  “No. You . . . you can’t,” she sputtered.

  He removed one hand from her arm and tipped his wife’s chin upwards with only two fingers, daring her to pull away.

  “Why the hell not?”

  Okay. Smoothness was probably saved for a man willing to defend his actions.

  “Because it . . . Oh, Jake! My car has been stolen!”

  His head snapped back. His eyes widened. His hand dropped her chin like a hot potato. “It what?”

  “My car . . . It’s been stolen. It’s not here anymore.”

  Speechless, his gut tightening, he turned searching for a vehicle he had no idea at all what looked like. “Where the hell did you park it, Liddy?”

  “Right fucking here, you moron!” Her high heel foot stomped on the pavement. Then she cried plenty more tears just to spite him.

  He closed his eyes and ran his hand over his face. Holy shit! Debra would probably arrest him for this. She’d been gunning to arrest him for something—anything, in fact. Grand theft auto would be about a near perfect fit to an already over-filled criminal record.

  “Are you sure you did? You didn’t park it out back?” The futile quest to the Almighty Liddy was wrong, and slightly confused as to where she may or may not have parked her car, made the foolish words tumble out of his mouth. Under duress, a woman could easily become highly confused of certain things.

  Perhaps coming back to Preacher’s Bend made her forgetful. Perhaps she wasn’t thinking clearly. Liddy was a woman on a failed mission. Perhaps . . .

  Oh, hell! Who was he kidding? She would certainly know if her car was stolen or not. Liddy Humphrey-Giotti was a very intelligent woman, stress in her life dealt with on a need only basis. At least it had been before. He wasn’t so certain of this now.

  Besides, she looked him dead to rites and glared at his idiotic questions. Certainly in and of itself should be answer she knew what the hell she was doing.

  He swallowed down the remainder of his words—hard won battle to get them back into his throat; an even harder battle to get them back into his head.

  “Okay. Maybe Billy thought it was to be towed away, or something?” This would certainly have made sense. Billy wasn’t always right in the head, any more than old lady Theodora Rosebud. He towed cars at will, due to color and make, and then lined them up at the back of his garage according to their designation of the rainbow.

  Nevertheless, he was damn fine at his job and never towed any out of Rachel’s parking lot on an early morning Sunday!

  Nor had he done so before with an out-of-town license plate. And he surely never towed a vehicle without getting a signature from the owner of said vehicle, if indeed it did have an out-of-town plate. He’d been sued for doing this once before, and once was more than enough to correct the mistake.

  “A car with Miami plates?” she snapped at his face, declaring his thoughts aloud.

  “It is possible,” he determined.

  Again, he ran his hand over his face, and thought Yeah, right! Tattoo? Cuddly kitten? Was any of this ringing a bell in the head?

  Jake flexed his right arm under his suit coat, groaning miserably. Anything was possible in Preacher’s Bend. But a missing car from Rachel’s parking lot, in broad daylight? It never happened before.

  However, as said, anything was possible, especially today.

  “Let’s walk over to the police station and see Debra. She’ll take care of this.”

  Debra Wesley would put out an APB. Then they’d be able to find Liddy’s missing car, and afterwards Deputy Debra would gleefully hang by the neck whatever juvenile delinquent took the vehicle out for a joyride.

  And hang him by the family jewels for being late for his parole appointment. Maybe not such a good idea.

  Still, Jake started to walk the way of the police station, figuring there was no sense in procrastinating with the inevitable. One way or the other, there was going to be cell doors closing in his face within the next few hours.

  Liddy stopped him cold. She turned what she wanted as her soon-to-be ex-husband physically toward her by grabbing hold of his upper arm; and,
unbeknownst to her, had grabbed ahold of a more-than-slightly painful tattoo.

  The pressure of her fingertips quickly reminded Jake of his long night. And, why he was so late with an appointment with his half-sister from Hell. He winced to the pain but let Liddy have her way. For the moment he couldn’t do a damn thing about it.

  “I can’t go over there!” she wailed.

  Liddy’s fingers tightened around his flesh even more.

  Damn, enough was enough! A man could only take so much agony so friggin’ early in the morning.

  “Why the bloody hell not?” He yanked his arm out of her grasp.

  Okay. That time it really hurt. Jake closed his eyes to let the sting ebb away.

  Men, at times, could do foolish things. What he’d done late last night . . . Well, the consequences of his late night activities about topped the scales of any masculine stupidity chart, far more than the foolish mistake made of marrying the woman standing in front of him.

  “I can’t tell the police about this.” Liddy lowered her gaze, drawing in a deep breath.

  Jake tried toning down his temper but failed miserably under the circumstances. “Damnit, Liddy! You had better tell me why the hell not within the next ten seconds, or you can just explain why not to Debra. Either way, I’m heading over there—with or without you.”

  He moved another foot forward, pushing the point.

  “Jake! I can’t! I can’t tell Debra about any of this. About the car, I mean,” she fretted, looking to have found her voice still useable.

  He raised a single eyebrow. “Liddy?” He wanted his threat to coerce her into confession. “The truth? If not, I start walking.”

  “I can’t go over there. Damnit, Jake! I stole the wretched thing in the first place! There. Satisfied now? Happy my life has turned into such crap, that I’m willing to take a car just to get rid of you?” She closed her eyes and groaned. “Damn you, Jake! I can’t tell Debra about the car not being here. I never meant to take it. I needed a ride. It was just sitting there, collecting dust. No one would drive me up here. They told me I was crazy, even certifiable under the circumstances. What am I to do now? Tell me? What am I to do now, Jake?”

  She rose her gaze to his, pleading for help.

  Jake Giotti would have said nothing in this world or within a normal man’s life could have shocked him more than his wife’s startling confession, however, Liddy Humphrey-Giotti telling him she was a car thief just about did him in.

  Chapter Six

  Okay? So what if perhaps this day was not going so well for her? And it was becoming eerily similar to yesterday? Life in general was not going good for her. Yet she could get through this. She’d gotten into far worse jams in her life, then, gotten out of those jams without anyone’s help. She couldn’t exactly recall any of them now, but given time she’d be able to.

  But the car?

  And now Jake daring to stand before her—judge, jury and executioner—exactly as he was?

  A stolen car she could. . . Damnit! She would have dealt with it, in time. She knew the legal system of this great country like the back of her hand, Thank you very much! She had rather intimate knowledge of what could, and usually did happen to those labeled as car thieves. And now she was going to be considered as one. A loophole here or there could’ve surely gotten her off, with good behavior.

  But Jake Giotti judging her? Mr. All around Criminal himself?

  Liddy knew for fact he was judging her. She could see it in his face. One upturned eyebrow was mocking her very existence. The other, bending down just to tell her she’s a damn fool. He was perfecting his distancing act whenever he didn’t want to deal with something he couldn’t comprehend.

  His rigid stance, Jake bunching up the beefy muscles he was oddly trying to hide under a suit coat . . hell, he was the damn fool who’d taught her how to steal a car in the first place! Though they’d never done the deed for real, and only practiced on a few old beaters behind the used car lot whenever Billy’s dad too inebriated to care, and whenever they had nothing better to do besides having great, mind-numbing sex.

  Hey! She already said the sex with Jake had been great. During what little time they’d had together sex had been indescribably awesome with this man.

  She just wanted . . . Liddy just wanted the day to end. Was this too much to ask out of life? Too much to want out of her life, when most everything else she’d ever wanted before never gave to her?

  A girl wanted normal parents. She wanted a decent house to grow up in. She did not want to be looked at as though she had the plague, or being born on the wrong side of the tracks meant others were to look away.

  Was it simply too much to ask to be able to close her eyes, look the other way. . . and have all of today—all of this—go away? Certainly not!

  The facts were this wasn’t about to be swept under a rug as easily as she would’ve wanted it. And Jake’s snake tattoo was not a cute, cuddly, or at all what a respectable person adorns their body with.

  Liddy’s groan pulled at her insides. Damnit. She would give anything, even her eyeteeth, just to see his tattoo one more time. Savor the image of it until her dying day.

  Debra would have a field day with this news. That fat ass deputy would eat Liddy alive . . . whole.

  Oh, this was bad. This was very, very bad. Mack Wells’ car stolen . . . technically stolen twice, and in the same bloody damn week, was bad.

  Even though not exactly stolen from the same city or even on the same day, nor by the same bloody damn car thief . . .nevertheless, twice was twice no matter how an individual looked at it.

  Surely there was a loophole she could figure using for her defense just to get her out of this mess. Right?

  Mack wasn’t an easy man to deal with when something of his, or should she more loosely said something having tremendous value to him, was taken from him. If anyone could attest to this fact it was her. He about crucified one of his maids who’d pilfered a small, insignificant candy dish from the kitchen. The woman said Mack wasn’t paying her as much as all the others were being paid, and the crystal dish considered as compensation toward her undeniable efforts of serving the man and his relentless demands of her, both day and night. Not sexual, just physical.

  For a lousy dime store dish, his maid was now looking at ten to fifteen with time off for good behavior. Liddy chuckled at the thought of good behavior. It was not as if the maid hadn’t been right. Mack didn’t pay his employees well. The men were getting far more than the women were.

  Liddy found she would have done the very same thing had the shoe been on the other foot. Mack could truly get a person angry over very little. It was the very reason he was so damn good at what he chose as his profession. And why she hadn’t been able to tell him about her actually taking the car, nor said a word to her betrothed about Jake.

  Her opinion might be a bit slated; because though he had three other cars to choose from, the one she’d borrowed from the mansion’s garage was the only one he’d considered his priceless baby.

  Jesus! A fucking car was more important to him than his fiancés pride.

  Mack had a private chauffeur to drive him most places. A large sixty-foot yacht moored down at the Miami Marina for use on the weekends. He had eight live-in household staff, within a thirteen thousand square foot mega-mansion, who atoned to his every demand. Six men and two women catered to him night and day. He had his very own personal shopper. He didn’t need the car.

  She did.

  Well . . . had.

  Now, with said car stolen right here in barely noticeable, little ole` Preacher’s Bend, the very place Mack did not want to hear about . . . ever?

  There really was no way she could tell Mack about the car without ending up in jail. Good God! She couldn’t end in jail or be hated by Mack! They’re getting married to each other in less than three weeks, technicalities aside.

  And now she had to deal with Jake, on top of everything else?

  Good grief! This just kep
t getting better and better.

  And why in God’s name did her soon-to-be ex-husband have to be so damn good looking, smell so great, and look so unbearably sexy dressed in a suit and brown loafers, her lower half heating up far faster than ever before with this man. Why did she foolishly turn her head in that miserable restaurant and find him today, of all days?

  Jake did not calculate his life as efficiently as Mack Wells did. He grabbed life by the horns and with both hands held on for dear life, for the full eight-second ride. Darling Mack could barely make it through three seconds on a bull, mechanical or otherwise. Not that Liddy would’ve held any less than physical skills against him . . .

  Jesus! Why on Earth was she even comparing the two? Doing so was not a smart thing; Mack was so much more compared to Jake.

  The Jake she remembered would’ve shrugged off a stolen car. He would’ve had a cold beer down at local watering hole with his best friend Gill. A hearty laugh, much later on, about the distasteful episode. He would’ve simply waited for his car to be brought back to him.

  Arrogant bastard!

  She, on the other hand, did not have the time to wait for its return. She had places to go, people to meet, and a wedding to finalize.

  Time was always on Jake’s side. Liddy was running out of it.

  And if anyone dared get her started on what arguing inside Rachel’s with this man had felt like . . .

  A good pair of white socks, bleached and put through the wringer—repeatedly, until stripped to the bare threads—was feeling far less pain than she. Most of her shed tears had been made because he’d caught her completely off guard. The rest were quite unexpected from what she could only guess to be ten years of missing this arrogant jerk, so terribly; at times it’d been all she could do not to have coming running back to Preacher’s Bend with her tail tucked between her legs, and just forgive the egotistical bastard for being such a complete and utter jackass.

  Mack benefited her greatly. When she needed him the most, when she needed answers and comfort from someone who did not know her, or knew of what she’d done, Mack had been there. He’d held her head up high, kept her in check and on track; especially when she’d about thrown in the towel those first years.