by Lakes, Lynde
Oh, great. It was a struggle to go forward, and now she was supposed to back up? She heard a thump.
“I got the panel open,” he said. “I smell spices. We must be at the pantry exit.”
The whisper of cloth against metal told her he had slid through the panel door. There was no light, only more darkness. She heard a crash. Her breath caught. “Jay, are you all right?”
“I’m okay.” His low voice came from outside the passageway. “I just knocked over an ice cream churn.”
She went limp with relief. After a moment, she composed herself enough to continue her backward crawl. Something scurried across her leg. She pressed her lips together to keep from screaming.
“I found the light switch.” Jay’s words were muffled.
Dim light filtered in behind her. She followed its path and peered into the room. Jars of vegetables lined the shelves. Meta’s garden had produced so much that, if she hadn’t canned it, most of it would have rotted on the vine, and she said she never could stand waste.
“Come on,” Jay said, “I’ll help you climb out.” He eased her through the small opening and steadied her as she stood. Her knees felt rubbery. She started to tremble. His arms closed around her, and she leaned against him, needing his strength, his warmth. This was no time to go soft. She took a step, determined to go on. It was so close in the room she could barely breathe. She swayed, and he tightened his hold. “Better sit down a minute.”
The concern in his voice warmed her. Having a man care for her was a new and comforting experience. She heard a deep moan coming from the kitchen, which was just off the pantry. She stiffened. “Someone’s out there,” she whispered. Jay picked up a broom. She wished she had her gun. They eased around the corner. The kitchen reeked with the smell of whiskey. Bud lay collapsed on the floor “Bud’s hurt.” She rushed to him, checked his pulse—it was strong, steady. “Wet a dishtowel.”
Jay scowled. “A wet towel be damned! A bucket of ice water is what he needs.”
“Ease up, Jay. Something’s not right here—shoes on the wrong feet, shirt buttoned all wrong.” She let her words tumble out without a breath between. “Don’t you see it? He didn’t dress himself.”
Jay blew out a force of air. “Damn it, drunks do things like that.” Still, he dampened the cloth and handed it to her
She cleaned away enough blood to get a good look at the wound. “Does a drunk hit himself on the back of the head, too?”
“Probably hit it when he passed out.”
Jay’s skepticism was well earned, but she couldn’t miss that something had changed—before he had unyieldingly defended his brother. Well, she refused to let their bad blood cloud her sense of reason. She separated Bud’s hair to expose the long gash. “This wasn’t self-inflicted.”
Jay glanced at it. “Okay,” he said, “we’ll wait to hear his side. But it better be damned good.”
“Get the first aid kit out of the bathroom,” she said.
“I’m not leaving you alone with him. You could be wrong about this.”
“Jay, it wasn’t Bud. I’ll always remember the kidnapper’s eyes, icy blue and menacing. Those cold eyes were all I had to zero in on.” Jay stared at her for several seconds.
“I need the antiseptic and bandages now!” she shouted.
He yanked open a drawer, pulled out a paring knife, and handed it to her. “If Bud makes any suspicious moves, hold him off with this.”
She rolled her eyes. “Just go.” She watched Jay leave the room, wondering if her safety could really mean more to him than his brother.
Bud groaned. Lisa placed the knife behind her, close enough to get quickly, but out of Bud’s reach. “It’s okay, Bud,” she said, gently dabbing his wound. “You’re not hurt badly.”
He looked up at her with glazed-over eyes. “Lisa. What are you doing here?”
She brushed Bud’s tangled blond hair from his brow. “Just lie still. I’ll have you fixed up good as new in a jiffy. Jay’s gone for antiseptic and bandages.”
Bud’s usually hostile features softened as though he were seeing her as a friend for the first time. A pang of guilt shot through her. She had never tried to be a friend to him. She had merely tolerated him for Meta’s sake.
His gaze held her for a moment longer, the warmth in his eyes deepening. “Thanks, Lisa.” His deep tone and the intensity of his gaze brought back memories of the night he had made a pass at her. Maybe it wasn’t gratitude in his expression after all. When his hand slid intimately over hers, she withdrew from his touch, certain he was up to his old tricks. “Don’t get any wrong ideas, Bud.”
“Your loss,” he said. His wobbly voice made his attempt to sound macho and cocky fall flat. She suddenly felt sorry for him.
She was relieved to hear Jay’s confident stride returning. He crouched and handed her the first aid kit. His nearness soothed her while the touch of his fingers sent a charge of electricity through her. Her face warmed. She met his gaze. The knowing gleam she saw there confirmed that he had felt the spark, too. As though fighting it, he dropped his gaze and glared at his brother. “What’s your part in all this, Bud?”
“My part in what?” He winced as Lisa dabbed antiseptic on his wound.
“Where’d you get those clothes?”
Bud looked down and shrugged. “Hey, what the hell? These shoes aren’t mine, and they’re on the wrong feet.” He groaned as he sat up, then slowly put the loafers on correctly.
“They seem to fit,” Jay snapped.
“They’re at least a half size too big.” Bud got to his feet and gripped the back of a chair to steady himself.
Lisa scooped up the paring knife as she joined the standing men and placed it on the counter. “Do you remember anything, Bud?”
“Clinking noises. I came to check them out.” Bud’s voice trailed away as he stared at the bottle of whiskey on the table.
“Do you deny that’s yours?” Jay growled.
“What difference does it make? You’re not my keeper!”
Lisa sighed. “You have to admit that someone went to a great deal of trouble to make you look guilty.”
Bud frowned. “Of what?”
Jay arched a sharp, accusing brow. “Kidnapping. Attempted murder.”
“Are you crazy?” Bud threw up his hands.
The brother’s harsh words hung in the air as the sound of heavy footsteps came from the dining room. Lisa stiffened.
Jay’s gaze met hers. “Someone else is in the house. Hide, Lisa.”
Before she could move, two armed men with nylon stockings over their faces charged into the room, grabbed Bud and Jay, and wrenched their arms behind their backs. The brothers bucked like Brahmans and dragged their attackers around the room. Chairs toppled and crashed to the floor. Their assailants had the advantage of size. The brute wrestling with Jay was well over six foot with shoulders as wide as a battering ram. The thug trying to control Bud was slightly shorter, but well-muscled. Their hard-core cursing suggested that they were badasses who had known the inside of jail. Nevertheless, as big and bad as they were, they hadn’t taken the brothers down. Lisa tried several times to leap onto the back of the brute pounding Jay, but couldn’t get close enough. She picked up a huge steel pot and lifted it to throw. A third thug in white coveralls vaulted into the room. The black nylon stocking flattened his features into a grotesque plane. He pointed his gun at Lisa’s heart.
“Freeze,” he growled.
She froze, not even breathing, her mind triggering back to the day Perry held a gun on her and it went off. She closed her eyes, fighting the paralyzing trauma.
Jay battered his attacker against the wall, trying to get an arm free while Bud spun like a top, dragging his assailant with him.
“Everyone freeze. Now,” the thug in coveralls bellowed. “Or Lisa gets it!”
Bud and Jay stopped all movement. Recognition flashed in their eyes.
“Tom!” they said in unison.
“That stocking makes
you uglier,” Bud said, “but it doesn’t hide your beer gut.”
“Shut up!” Tom growled. He glared through his mask at Bud with a mixture of hatred and fear.
Jay seemed to be silently sizing up the situation. Lisa exchanged glances with him as she moved in front of the counter where she had placed the knife. She shifted her gaze to Tom and watched him as she eased the weapon off the counter and tucked it into the back waistband of her pajamas. He still had his gun trained on her, but if he turned it away—
“Pretty brave with a gun trained on a woman,” Jay said. “Get rid of the gun, and see what happens.”
Tom laughed, ignoring the dare. “I knew you’d get out of the cellar. I counted on it.”
“And I was supposed to think Bud was behind everything. Then what?”
“You were supposed to kill him—or him you. Didn’t matter, just as long as one of you ended up dead.”
“Did you think up this complex setup all by yourself, or did you get a high school dropout to help you? And how did you get in to exchange the garlic for the lily of the valley?”
“I hired my construction buddy, Slim, from the slammer, to replace them. For him, in spite of the security, getting in was no biggie. He’d been breaking into houses for years, coming down through roofs. Air conditioning systems were his specialty, but thanks to the unique construction of this place, he was able to remove the air vent and the fan. Then all he had to do was oil his body-glove and—”
Tom’s explanation brought more questions, but at this point, Jay didn’t give a damn. He went on to a more relevant question. “What do you hope to gain?”
“Big bucks. Drake will pay top dollar for this property, but if the deal isn’t sealed soon, he’ll find another location, and the chance will be gone. So where’s Grandma?” His fingers twitched on the trigger.
Bud lunged toward Tom, dragging his attacker halfway across the room with him. “Not if I wring your neck first, you yellowbelly.”
Lisa used Bud’s distraction to catch her wits, darting out of the line of fire just as Tom’s gun went off. Before Tom could get her back into his sights, Jay wrenched himself free, lunged, and grabbed the gun. Unfortunately, his unyielding opponent tackled him again, so he tossed the weapon to Lisa, who was ready. She aimed between Tom’s eyes. “Now you freeze!”
He stepped toward her. She shifted her aim a few inches to the left and fired, grazing his ear with the bullet.
“What the hell?” he said. He touched his ear and looked at his bloody fingers. “You bitch!” He came at her again.
She lowered the gun about six inches and fired again, catching him in the shoulder. Her finger twitched on the trigger. “One more step and I’ll blow away your manhood.”
The thug trying to deal with Bud had drawn a gun, and they were struggling for control of it. They stumbled against the kitchen table, knocking it over. The whiskey bottle crashed and shattered, sending shards of glass skittering across the floor. Flush-faced, Bud struggled to keep the tip of the barrel away from his temple. Lisa aimed at the hand that held the revolver, but Bud kept getting in the line of fire and blocking the shot.
Jay and the other thug scuffled on the floor, exchanging blows and cursing. The thug got the advantage and hit Jay repeatedly in the face. She aimed, but Jay rolled, taking his opponent with him, and ended up on top. He finished his foe off with a blow to the jaw.
Bud’s attacker inched the barrel to his temple. Jay sprang to his feet and charged forward. He grabbed the man’s massive arm and, groaning with the effort, bent it away from his brother, giving Bud a chance to perform a forearm thrust to his opponent’s neck. Together, the brothers struggled to take him down. The man beat the air until he yanked his arm free. Then in a reverse move, he pressed the gun against Jay’s stomach.
Lisa’s breath caught—she didn’t have a clear line of fire. Her heart skipped a beat.
Jay stepped to the side, grabbed, and straightened the man’s arm, and brought his knee up into the guy’s elbow. The man cried out, opened his hand, and the gun fell to the floor. Bud used the man’s belt to bind his wrists while Jay sat on his shoulders, pressing them into the tile. Bud gave the belt a final twist.
Lisa felt the impact as Tom lunged and knocked her against the counter. He grabbed the gun she was holding, pointed it at Jay—and fired.
Her heart stopped. Jay didn’t fall. Had Tom missed? She couldn’t let him shoot again. She yanked the paring knife from the back of her waistband and charged Tom. She had only one chance to make her strike count. Gritting her teeth, she raised the paring knife. In one fluid movement she brought it down, slicing a deep gash across Tom’s gun hand. Tom jerked back, grimacing. Blood spurted. He clung to the gun. She drew a deep breath. With the knife raised, she charged Tom again. He turned his gun on her, murder in his eyes.
A shot rang out. She felt nothing. That’s how it had been when Perry shot her.
Suddenly everything seemed to be happening in slow motion. Tom’s face contorted. His fingers opened and his gun dropped with a thud to the floor. Blood streamed from his right shoulder, down his arm, and met the blood flowing from his hand.
Jay had made it to the other gun. He had saved her! She rushed into his arms, and he closed them around her.
Days later, Emily, the cook, wheeled in the cart stacked with the hot breakfast entrees into the dining room. Aromas of bacon and freshly baked rolls wafted on the air.
Lisa glanced at Jay sitting next to her at the dining room table, his face ruggedly handsome, even with black eyes and bruises. Bud’s face looked just as battered, and it didn’t seem to bother him any more than Jay’s bruises bothered him. They were all lucky—the trouble was over, and they were alive—and Meta was out of danger.
Emily parked the food cart near the table. “I see you’re wolfing down my fresh-baked sweet rolls, Bud,” she said in her light Mexican accent. “The way you’re always firing me, I thought maybe you didn’t like my cooking.”
Lisa held her breath, waiting for Bud’s usual sharp comeback.
He grinned, looking innocent. “What are you talking about? I love your cooking. It’s magnifico!” He threw her a kiss.
Emily stared at him for a moment. “Is that Bud sitting there, Mrs. Corning, or did you trade him in for someone likable?”
Meta smiled.
Jay’s eyes darkened, and a muscle twitched in his jaw. Obviously, he wasn’t buying Bud’s exaggerated turnabout. She didn’t buy the total “good guy” act herself. But whatever Bud’s motives, he had pleased Emily, and she disappeared into the kitchen, chuckling.
Howard cleared his throat. “I suspected from the beginning that Gus had a part in all the trouble. After you fingered him as the thief who robbed my house, I took his threat of revenge seriously. But he was just small potatoes. I still find it hard to believe that Tom was the mastermind.”
Meta sighed. “I loved him…” Her voice was choked. She paused, unfolded her napkin, and gracefully laid it over her lap. She lifted her chin. “But, he always was a greedy boy, always wanting more than he had.”
Howard patted Meta’s hand. She nodded, acknowledging his support. Then she turned to Lisa. “You saved my life, dear.” Meta put her coffee cup back into the saucer and sat very still, very proud. “I’ll never forget that.” She paused a moment and, pretending to be stern, raised an eyebrow at Lisa and Jay. “Of course, I was angry at both of you for whisking me away without my having any say in the matter.”
“There wasn’t time for arguments, Grandma,” Jay said. “But if I’d known how dangerous it would be for Lisa, I’d have found another way.”
He entangled his strong fingers with Lisa’s. A giddy warmth surged through her. She glanced sideways at him. “There wasn’t any other way, Jay. We did what we had to do.”
Jay withdrew his hand, leaving her to wrestle with a sense of loss. He didn’t have to pull away so quickly, she thought. It was enough that tomorrow he would leave her for good.
An un
readable expression flickered in Jay’s eyes. “Sometimes doing what you have to do isn’t enough.”
Lisa opened her mouth to ask what he meant, but Bud got in ahead of her.
“Try trusting me next time,” he said. “If you two heroes had clued me in to what was going on, maybe I could’ve helped.”
“If you had stayed home once in awhile,” Jay said, “and been more concerned about Grandma, you’d have seen some of it coming.”
“Look who’s talking. You stay away for five years, then come back here and upset everyone’s lives, and now tomorrow you’re running away again.”
“Running away? Is that what you think?” Jay’s angry words hung in the air.
Bud ignored him. Lisa sighed. When the brothers combined forces as a hard-hitting team against Tom and his thugs, she believed they had put aside their differences, but apparently, it had only been temporary. Still, Bud was right—Jay had been running away all these years. Now he was about to run away from her, and they would both lose the best thing they ever had. Lisa blinked back the moisture that threatened to flood her eyes. She mustn’t think about him leaving, or it would spoil the short time she had left with him. Why couldn’t he have been a plumber, a mailman, or anyone who wouldn’t leave her?
“It’s sorta’ ironic,” Bud said. “After the trial, Tom will be transferred from jail to the prison where he once worked and will learn firsthand what it’s like to live in a cell, maybe even share one with Gus, Perry, or his other partners in crime.”
“Since this is Jay’s last night here,” Lisa said, “why don’t we talk about something more pleasant?”
Bud smiled. “Hey, whatever you say, Lisa. I would never argue with you after seeing you in action.” Playful sparks danced in his eyes. “And you’re a good nurse, too. I’ll never forget regaining consciousness with my head in your lap and your soft fingers smoothing my brow. Thought for sure I was in the arms of an angel.”
Jay narrowed his eyes and pointed a fork at Bud. “If I’d had my way, you would have regained consciousness with a pail of ice water over your head. When I saw that half-empty whiskey bottle on the table and you on the floor—”