by Lakes, Lynde
She moved into the stairway corridor and pointed the gun at the man who now had Lisa on her feet, pinned against the wall.
“Let Lisa go! Or I’ll shoot!” Meta held the gun rigidly out in front of her. Without her glasses, everything looked blurry. She squinted, but it didn’t help. The man holding Lisa was no more than a towering dark shape. Her finger trembled on the trigger.
The man released Lisa and raised his hands. “Grandma! Don’t shoot! It’s Jay.”
Chapter Four
“Jay?” Meta lowered the gun immediately and held it limply at her side. “Oh, dear God.” Her voice cracked. “I almost shot you.”
Lisa wrenched herself free of her attacker’s loosened grasp. Her skin still burned from his hands grabbing at her slippery pajamas and bare skin. She took the gun from Meta.
The man lowered his hands, but kept his eyes on Lisa. Meta had called the attacker Jay… and he had called her Grandma. Good Lord, this was her grandson, Jay!
Meta opened her arms and rushed to Jay, moisture glistening in her eyes. Jay drew her close, holding her like delicate china. He kissed the top of her head. A muscle twitched in his jaw as though he was having trouble controlling his emotions.
Before Lisa could fully unscramble the unfolding scene and her own muddled mental state, she heard footsteps below. She glanced over the banister and saw Howard from next door standing at the bottom of the staircase with a rifle in his hands.
“You all right, Meta?” he shouted, aiming his rifle at Jay as he came up the stairs.
“Never better, Howard,” Meta said. “And if that’s a gun in your hand, don’t point it at my grandson. It might go off.”
“Grandson?” Howard wrinkled his leathery forehead and studied everyone’s faces. Then he lowered his rifle and asked, “What was all the shootin’ about?”
“That’s what I’d like to know,” Jay said.
Lisa glared at Jay. “I’d think a guy who spied on this place all day and busted through the front door would know the whole story. Those aren’t the acts of an innocent man.”
Jay ignored her. “I don’t get it, Grandma,” he said, drawing his dark brows closer together. “I heard shots. Then I found this woman in your bedroom with a gun in her hand.”
“This is Lisa Dixon. She was protecting me.”
“Looks to me like it was the other way around,” Jay said.
Heat flooded Lisa’s cheeks. “You had me pinned against the wall, but a knee to the groin and reverse body slam would’ve left you flat on your back, begging for mercy.” She weighed the gun in her hands, hoping he found her manner as intimidating as she’d found his steely grasp. His greater size and weight had been a challenge. A little inner voice added, If he had really wanted to hurt you, he could have. “Put away the gun, Lisa,” Meta demanded.
Lisa engaged the safety and jammed the gun into her pocket. Although unnerved by her lack of professionalism, she felt justified. His brown eyes looked innocent, but she wasn’t buying it.
Howard stepped closer, shaking his head. “I don’t get what’s going on here.” His craggy face contorted with worry.
“It’s just a misunderstanding.” Meta’s voice faded, her eyelids fluttered, and she swayed.
Oh, God, she’s going to faint. Lisa edged Jay out of the way and took Meta’s arm. “Let’s get you to bed. We can straighten out this mix-up later.”
Jay took her other arm. “Here, lean on me, Grandma.”
“She hasn’t been well,” Howard said, following them into the room.
Lisa darted a daggered look at Jay. “If you hadn’t stayed away for five years, you might have known that.”
Jay furrowed his brows. “Who is this woman?” His jaw muscle tightened.
Ignoring him, Lisa guided Meta to bed, fluffed the pillow, and tucked the comforter around her.
“When I heard the shots,” Howard said, “I called 911. Then I hightailed it over here.”
“I called them, too.” Meta sounded tired. Her heart-shaped face had no color. “I wonder why they aren’t here yet.”
Howard glanced at his watch. “It hasn’t been that long, less than ten minutes. It just seems longer.” He patted Meta’s hand. The elderly widower’s concern and gentleness were exactly what Meta needed right now. “So what started this shootin’ party?”
“An intruder.” Lisa pointed at the broken balcony window. “He busted in there.”
“I’d be dead if it hadn’t been for Lisa,” Meta said.
“He tried to smother her with a pillow,” Lisa said past the constriction in her throat.
“My God!” Jay said. “Did you see the man? Can you describe him?”
Jay’s look softened when he looked at her, but she wasn’t taken in. Puppy dog eyes won’t work with me, buster. “He was about your height and build.” She hardened her tone. “Then, by some odd coincidence, you busted in here only minutes after the trouble. Or is it such a coincidence?”
Jay winced visibly. “You really have a mouth on you, don’t you?”
“He was the one in the van, Meta,” Lisa said, hoping that detail justified her rudeness.
“Jay, you were the stranger in the van? But why?”
“I’ll explain when we’re alone, Grandma.”
Lisa released a small utter of disgust. “Why wait? We’d all love to hear that explanation.”
Jay darted a sharp look at Lisa. “What do you know about this woman, Grandma?”
“All I need to.” She turned to Lisa. “I know it’s late, but would you be a dear and make us all some hot tea? I’m sure Howard wouldn’t mind helping you.”
“I think I should stay,” Lisa said, folding her arms across her chest.
“I’m in no danger with Jay. I’d stake my life on it.”
Lisa wouldn’t stake zip on it. But she decided that with witnesses in the house and the police on their way, Meta would be safe for the short time it took to boil water.
Howard followed Lisa out of the room, chuckling. “She wants to talk to her grandson alone. The ol’ gal is as subtle as a kick in the tail feathers.”
Lisa frowned. Jay could have been the intruder who escaped. He could have circled the mansion, then busted through the front door. Money was a big motivator for murder. Had Bud brought him here, and were the two grandsons cooking up something devious? Or was this fake cowboy up to no good on his own?
“Shut the door and come here, Jay,” Grandma Meta said. She patted the edge of the bed and extended her hand. Her skin was cold, wrinkled, and its dryness reminded him of time-aged parchment paper. He lifted his gaze and was shocked to find her face so lined. But then she smiled, and the years evaporated. “Lisa has been with me during my illness, doing everything for me and for Bud, too.”
“I’ll bet,” Jay said.
Grandma’s eyes narrowed. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing.” He had to be more diplomatic. He didn’t want to force Grandma to come to Lisa’s defense. “Forget it,” he mumbled, wishing he could erase the memory of Bud’s woman from his mind. The little gun-toting trollop’s eyes were a brilliant green and combative as hell. And, damn it, those silky pajamas that clung to her body deepened the enticing greenness. What was it Tom had called her? Bud’s tart. Jay closed his eyes briefly, wanting to forget how Lisa had felt in his arms as she struggled to get away—those pajamas, sliding and twisting over a firm, curvy, hot body with enough perfumed softness to drive a man wild. It was no surprise that Bud’s taste ran toward a strong woman with lots of fight. It was the weakness Corning men had shared since the beginning of time.
Jay felt his Grandma’s eyes studying him and met her gaze. He’d come to know that those steady, sharp, hazel eyes missed very little. In the past, she’d always been several steps ahead of everyone. She certainly didn’t appear to be under anyone’s control.
“Look,” he said, “I might as well say what’s on my mind.”
“You do that, Jay, and then I’ll speak mine.”
He knew that tone. It had kept him on his toes when he was young—the quiet warning before an explosion that was sure to come. “The family is worried about you,” he said in his most reasonable voice. “And—”
“Worried?” Her voice had a bitterness he’d never heard before. “So worried that not one of them has dropped by since I left the hospital!”
“It’s not their fault, Grandma. Whenever they came here, Bud turned them away, saying you were sedated and not well enough to see anyone.”
“I was sedated for the first few days.” She smoothed loose strands of silver hair away from her face. “But it’s been eight weeks! What fool would think I was sedated all that time? If they were so worried, why didn’t they call or check with Dr. Hendricks?”
Jay loosened his collar. “They did. Apparently, the doc backed Bud up.” Jay only had Tom’s word about that. But one thing was glaringly apparent. Tom’s description of his helpless grandma under the control of Bud and his lover didn’t fit this quick-witted, strong-willed woman.
Grandma’s face had more lines than the last time he had seen her, and her eyes had sunk deeper into her face, but she was as sharp as ever.
“Look, Grandma, I can’t speak for them. Hell, I can’t even defend myself. I should have visited you before now. I’m ashamed it took a blasted crisis to get me here, but I swear if I’d known about the stroke, I would have been on the first plane here. I know it shouldn’t have taken something like that to get me here, and I’ll try to make it up to you.”
Grandma was silent for a moment. Then she lifted her chin high. “You can. Your offer fits right in with my plans, Jay. Lisa saved my life. And she’s been good to me, better I must say, than most of the other members of the family. And since she has no family, I want to make her part of my mine.”
Jay felt like she’d kicked him in the gut. “You want to make Bud’s lover part of your family?”
“Lover?” Meta’s sharp eyes blazed like the fires of hell. “They’re not lovers. Whatever gave you a crazy idea like that?”
“I think they may have pulled the wool over your eyes, Grandma.”
“Did Tom tell you that?” Grandma asked. “Well, forget it—and get that defensive look off your face, Jay Corning. I intend to provide for Lisa in my will, equally, along with the rest of the family—and that’s final.
“You can put whomever you want in your will, Grandma.” It was starting to look like Tom was right. Lisa had wheedled her way into Grandma’s heart and into a part of the inheritance.
“I’m well aware, my dear,” she said stiffly, “that I can put whomever I wish in my will. But once I’m gone, the family can contest it. That’s why I need you to back her up.”
“No way. I don’t want any part of this.” Even Grandma’s determined look wouldn’t work this time.
“Didn’t you, just a few minutes ago, promise to make something up to me?” Grandma’s tone barred reneging. “Now, here is the deal. You make sure that she has no trouble with the rest of the family. And if anything happens to me, you must promise to take care of her. Always.”
“You’re asking too much, Grandma. I can’t promise that.” How could he agree to take care of the woman he’d come there to get rid of?
“Jay, I’ve never asked anything of you until now, and I won’t ever ask anything again… but do this for me.”
A knot tightened in his stomach. How could he deny her? She was the only one who hadn’t treated him like an outcast, like one of the tainted sons of bank robbers. Instead, she’d always told him he was the prince of the bunch. He had no choice in this. No one else had been willing to raise him. By the time his mother had served her time and came to get him, he was already a mature twelve-year-old and well on his way to being a man. Grandma had provided him with a strong foundation, and it had served him well—without it, he would have ended up in the gutter.
She squeezed his hand. Sudden moisture glistened in her eyes. “Jay, you have to promise me.”
He’d never seen her teary before. Damn! Damn! “It means that much to you?” He was barely able to speak past the lump in his throat.
Grandma nodded, solemn-faced. She blinked her tears away, lifted her chin, and looked at him with piercing hazel eyes.
“Okay, Grandma, you win, whatever you want.” He had to swallow a bitter truth. When it came to Lisa, his grandmother was totally blind. His only hope was to find a way to force the little opportunist to reveal her true nature. Grandma was a smart woman. Once she saw Lisa’s devious nature, she’d be eager to release him from his promise.
Jay heard men’s voices downstairs. “I think the cops finally got here.”
“Good, maybe they will uncover something to stop all the trouble.”
Jay doubted it. He had a feeling it was going to get worse before it got better, especially after Grandma’s demand. When the officers tromped upstairs full of attitude, Jay knew that sweet Lisa had painted him as a possible suspect. While one investigator dusted for prints, the other grilled him relentlessly. If his grandmother hadn’t vouched for him, the cops might have marched his tail off to the pokey on the spot.
After the officers left, Lisa brought the tea up. She had only three cups. Her stunned glance told Jay that she expected that the cops had hauled him away in handcuffs. And this was the woman he was supposed to protect!
Howard followed Lisa into the room, looking at her with a fatherly affection. She had caught the old geezer under her spell, too. Lisa was good. He’d give her that. He glared at the jezebel outsider who had wormed her way into his grandmother’s heart. Those brilliant green eyes, accentuated by dark spiky lashes, didn’t fool him. He had to find a way to force this phony little Miss Innocent to reveal that she was really a gun-toting tiger with a devious nature.
Jay’s jaw tightened as he watched Lisa pour the tea—so sweet and caring, a real Florence Nightingale, while underneath she was planning her next move. It was clear that she had hoped the police would lock him up so she and Bud could continue their little game without his interference. Maybe the breakin was a fake too—a plan she and Bud had concocted to make Meta grateful to her.
“Lisa makes excellent tea, Jay,” Grandma said. “But, of course, she does everything well.”
Too well, he thought. And he couldn’t do a damned thing about it. Not yet anyway.
At least Lisa had slipped on a robe, instead of roaming all over the house in nothing but clingy silk. Please Lord, don’t let it be my downfall that I know how womanly she feels under that robe, a robe that is probably as soft and cuddly as it looks, and matches her eyes, and those damnable thin, slippery silk pajamas.
Lisa handed him what he knew was supposed to be her cup of tea. Her cool expression was a contradiction to the smoldering look in her eyes. He wished he knew what she was thinking. He needed an edge to use against her—or was it to use against his own traitorous feelings and lustful desires? She smiled warmly as she handed a cup of tea to Howard. Jay’s grip on his saucer tightened. Her phony angelic performance made him want to smash something.
She topped Meta’s tea off with the last of the hot water. “What’s this?” she asked, looking closely at the edge of Grandma’s pillow. She picked up something on the tip of her finger. “Meta, do you know anyone who wears contact lenses?”
“No. At least I don’t think so. Why, dear?”
Jay had almost reined in his anger when Lisa met his gaze and asked, “Do you wear contact lenses, Jay?”
“Twenty-twenty vision,” he said as civilly as he could.
“I never liked things in my eyes,” Howard said. “And I only need glasses for reading.”
“The lens must belong to the intruder,” Meta said.
Lisa studied the filmy disk. “When I hit him, the impact must’ve knocked it out.”
“It’s possible. You play rough.” Jay hated to admit that he had a couple extra bruises himself, thanks to her.
Lisa’s eyes glistened with green fire. “I wasn’t p
laying!”
Grandma beamed. “She’s a tough little scrapper.”
“Not that tough,” Jay pointed out with some satisfaction. “The guy got away.”
“My first priority was to protect Meta,” she said, her tone defensive.
Jay smiled at the barely detectable flush on Lisa’s cheeks. “I irritate you tremendously, don’t I? Why so hostile? We’re just talking here, right?”
“But you’re not saying anything. I’d like to hear how you happened to be lurking about when the gunplay started.”
Howard looked confused again. “I thought we were talking about a contact lens.”
“We are,” Meta said. “We just took a small detour.” She patted Lisa’s hand. “You’ll need an envelope or container to protect the lens until you can deliver it to the police. How about that empty pillbox on my dresser?”
Lisa inspected the box. “It’ll work.”
“Give me the lens,” Jay said. “I’ll run it by the police station for you in the morning.”
“And give you a chance to make a switch? I think not.” She dropped the small box into her pocket. “I’m not letting the police get their grimy hands on it until I run it by a few local optometrists. Maybe one of them can identify the prescription—and if we’re lucky, the patient.”
“That’s called withholding evidence,” Jay said. “Besides, no doctors will give you personal patient information.”
“Want to bet?”
Howard moved toward the door. “Since everything’s settled down, I’ll be going. Get some rest now, Meta.”
Lisa smiled. “Thanks for repairing the damage to the front door, Howard.”