The Southern Comfort Prequel Trilogy Box Set

by Lisa Clark O'Neill

  Jack frowned, but his phone chimed before he could respond. He checked the readout.

  “It’s Evan,” he said. “My investigator. I need to call him.”

  “Please. Go right ahead.”

  “Do you mind if I step into your bedroom?” He cocked a brow. “And that’s not even a line.”

  She chuckled. “Be my guest.”

  Jack had every intention of doing so at some point, although he kept that to himself for the moment. Evan, as usual, got straight to the point.

  “Henry Cox is in a long term care facility in Atlanta. The police ID’d the wrong guy.”

  “Yeah, I know. His twin brother Hal is the one on a slab in the morgue.”

  There was a beat of silence. “You knew?”

  “Obviously. Now tell me something I don’t know.”

  “Harold Cox – the dead twin – did a stint in rehab. He was there at the same time as another actor in this particular scene. Lydia Fasteland.”

  Jack froze, and then looked toward the closed bedroom door as if he could see Caitlin on the other side. “Fasteland and Cox knew each other?”

  “They at least had the opportunity to know each other, let’s put it that way. I’m going to dig some more, see if I can find out exactly how well. There are confidentiality agreements that people in recovery have to abide by, however, so a lot of them are reluctant to talk. But I also discovered that Cox attended the same high school as Peyton Easton. Along with Lance Cavanaugh.”

  This, Jack also knew, since Lance had already informed him. “That’s a whole lot of dots waiting to be connected.”

  “I’m on it. Just wanted to touch base with what I had.”

  “Appreciate it. Any luck on Lydia Fasteland’s current whereabouts?”

  “Wherever she is, she’s not using her credit or debit cards.”

  “A car identified as possibly belonging to her dead husband attempted to run over my client today. My former client.”

  Another beat of silence. “If she’s your former client, why am I still working on this?”

  “She’s Ainsley’s client now. I would have caught you up to speed if you’d answered your phone earlier.”

  “I wasn’t in a place where I could talk,” Evan grumbled. “Text me – or have Ainsley text me – the details on the vehicle. I’ll see what I can find and get back to her.”

  “I’d prefer you contact me first with any relevant information. Ms. Cavanaugh is Ainsley’s client, but I have a… personal interest in her safety.”

  The silence this time stretched out for several seconds. “Whatever you say.”

  Jack ended the call, and imagined that Evan’s tongue was nearly bitten in two. But he wouldn’t give Jack shit. Not yet, anyway. That would wait until they were off the clock, like during one of Jesse’s poker games.

  Although Jesse probably wouldn’t be hosting any poker games for a while. Not when he had a new baby.

  Jack smiled, picturing Jesse trying to figure out hair ribbons and baby dolls, but it faded when his mind snapped back to the information Evan had just told him. The cast of characters continued to grow, and it defied logic that their connections were purely coincidental.

  A man Caitlin had grown up with, loaned and lost money to, and with whom she wasn’t on the best terms. The estranged wife of her ex-boyfriend, currently wanted for questioning in connection with her husband’s murder, and who’d previously stalked Caitlin. And an addict who knew them both – as well as Caitlin’s brother – and who’d ended up dead on the floor of Caitlin’s bedroom.

  And then there was Caitlin’s brother himself.

  Jack frowned, not liking the turn his thoughts were taking, but he’d been doing this long enough to know that his cynicism was well-founded. He wondered about the terms of Caitlin’s will, assuming she had one.

  Wouldn’t it be easier to inherit rather than buy?

  He was going to have to ask Caitlin about it, but understood that it needed to be handled delicately. He couldn’t risk having her tell him to take his suspicions and concerns out the door with him.

  And speaking of going out the door, Jack realized he didn’t want to. He wanted to stay right where he was, standing as bodyguard. Preferably from a very short distance.

  He glanced at the bed. Wondered what it would take to convince Caitlin that she’d be safer with him sleeping beside her.

  A shouted “No!” from the other room brought his head snapping up, and he was through the door within moments. A quick survey told him that there was no external threat in the form of someone intending to harm Caitlin. But something had obviously hurt her, judging by the look on her face as she stared at her phone.

  “What happened?”

  She glanced up, her expression one of horrified shock. He’d seen it far too often on her face in the short time he’d known her, and it was starting to piss him off.

  “Darius. He’s… dead.”

  “Darius?”

  “Presley. The retired detective who consulted on my novels.”

  “How?”

  “What?”

  “How did he die?” Jack knew he probably sounded callous, but the hairs on the back of his neck were marching in formation.

  “He drowned. While fishing. I decided to check my email, and the last one I received from him was written by his wife. She didn’t know how else to get hold of me since I’d changed my number and moved, and wasn’t responding to posts on social media. The funeral was last week.” She squeezed her eyes closed. “I feel just awful that I missed it.”

  “Were there witnesses? To the drowning, I mean.”

  “I… I don’t know.” Her brows drew together. “Why?”

  “Because a lot of people close to you are turning up dead.”

  She gaped at him for several moments. “He drowned.”

  “I get that. But I’m going to check the details.”

  Jack pulled out his phone to see what Google had to offer. He would call Evan back if he had to, but hopefully the standard news reports would have some information.

  He pulled up several, most of which provided the bare minimum of details, including the man’s name, age, former occupation, and the fact that he drowned while on a fishing excursion to a local lake. The last article, however, went into more detail.

  Retired Atlanta police detective Darius Presley, age sixty-one, blah blah. Jack scanned through the information he already knew. In the third paragraph he found what he was searching for.

  Mr. Presley left his wife sleeping in the bed of their vacation cabin, as he had for the past three mornings, to find the best fishing hole. When he didn’t return for their standing lunch date however, Mrs. Presley grew worried. She went searching for him, and after finding his abandoned fishing tackle and cooler along the bank near their cabin, she discovered his body face down in the lake approximately thirty feet away. The nearby shoreline is particularly rocky, and investigators speculate that the former detective may have slipped and hit his head…

  Jack considered. It was certainly no smoking gun, but he still didn’t like it.

  He glanced up to find Caitlin glaring at him, arms crossed tightly across her chest. “Well?”

  “There were no witnesses.” He went on to summarize what he’d learned.

  “Poor Naomi.” Caitlin shook her head. “That had to have been horrible. But it sounds like an accident.”

  “You hadn’t talked to Detective Presley since you moved?”

  “No. And not for a while before that. I wasn’t at a point in my current book where I needed his input, and aside from that I was embarrassed. About how things ended up with Ryan, and then Lydia stalking me. Given how many times Darius and I talked about the folly of trusting people without doing your due diligence in checking them out, I didn’t want to disappoint him. Or have him lecture me. So I avoided him.” She sighed. “I wish I hadn’t.”

  “Your brother asked him to keep an eye out for you.”

  Her head snapped up. “How
do you know that?”

  “Lance told me. He was concerned that you weren’t taking the danger posed by Fasteland’s wife seriously enough, and so he alerted Presley in lieu of contacting the police. And don’t be angry. You might see it as an invasion of privacy, but he did the right thing. Pride makes people do stupid shit, and hoping Mrs. Cuckoo would go away if you pretended she wasn’t a problem falls within that category.”

  Red stained her cheeks. “Is this part of your so-called irresistible charm? Because I think we need to review your misunderstanding of that definition.”

  “No, this is me being straight with you, because I think that you’re smart enough to recognize the truth of what I’m saying, and tough enough to face the implications. Your brother asked Darius Presley to keep an eye on you. Assuming he did so, we don’t know what all that entailed. Maybe he stepped on some toes, asked the right question of the wrong person, saw something he shouldn’t have. Maybe someone simply didn’t like the idea of having a former cop sniffing around.”

  “Or maybe it was a fishing accident.”

  “And maybe that car nearly hitting you today was an accident as well.”

  “Okay,” she finally agreed. “Okay. I understand your point. But what can I do? Call the police and tell them they might want to have another look at Darius’s death? He’s already buried. Are they supposed to exhume his body based on suspicion alone, especially when it’s coming from a defense attorney with a client to protect?”

  Jack hesitated, and then went with his gut. He rounded the table to where Caitlin was sitting, and pulled out her chair. Turning it around so that she faced him, he braced his hands on either side of her, effectively caging her in. Her eyes grew wide but she didn’t protest, so he leaned down until their faces were level.

  “Let’s get one thing straight,” he said quietly. “I started off as your defense counsel, and I do have your legal wellbeing in mind. But I’m not your attorney now. I’m a man who wants to protect the woman he wants for his own. So I’m going to explore every avenue, turn up every clue, suspect every damn person who I even think might have a motive to harm you. And I don’t give a shit who it inconveniences or pisses off. Are we clear?”

  Her eyes were incredibly blue from this distance. Blue, and meeting his gaze without a flinch.

  “Crystal.” Then she surprised Jack by placing her hands on his chest, curling her fingers around the lapels of his shirt and then dragging him down for a kiss.

  Something inside Jack flashed hot and bright, like a match head freshly struck. Her warm clean scent coupled with the feel of her lips moving against his ignited every one of his masculine instincts. Instincts he’d been suppressing.

  Because Caitlin had to be the one to make the first physical move. Under the circumstances, he couldn’t risk it. But now that she’d opened the door, he didn’t hesitate to stroll right in, taking the kiss deeper, hotter. He wanted to do so much more, wanted to grasp her by the hips and plunk her down on the table, and then dive between her thighs. He wanted to conquer her and protect her. To dominate and cherish. He didn’t fully understand how she’d gotten beneath his skin so quickly, but right now he didn’t much give a damn.

  When she gave a little hum of approval deep in her throat, Jack thought fuck it and slid a hand into the V of her shirt. Moving aside one of the cups of her bra, he cradled the warm, full breast which had tantalized him through her damp dress. Since she offered no resistance, he slid his thumb and forefinger together, gently pinching her nipple. The sound she made in response to that caused his groin to tighten, and his breath to kick up a notch. He liked vocal women. Liked to know that they were enjoying him as much as he enjoyed them. And he enjoyed the hell out of Caitlin, her spirit and her fire and her vulnerability and her wit.

  And then there was her body. He had little doubt he was going to enjoy the hell out of that, too.

  But he didn’t want to overwhelm her, which he had to admit was a first. Using his height, his presence, his mind, his position to overwhelm people was something he did best.

  But this was different. She was different. So he forced himself to pull his hand back, to raise his face several inches above hers.

  “I don’t want to scare you.”

  Her eyes, cloudy with passion only moments before, cleared. Unfortunately what chased the desire away appeared to be irritation.

  “Don’t coddle me.”

  He raised a brow. “I’m not.”

  “Yes, you are. I told you before that I’m not some china doll to be kept on a shelf. Nor am I… damaged goods.”

  “Wait.” He wrapped his hand around her wrist when she pushed against his chest. “I did not mean to make you feel damaged, or sullied. Or like someone that I thought would break into pieces if I played too rough. I’ve been around courtrooms long enough to understand the psychology. That’s why we call people who have experienced things like you’ve experienced recently survivors instead of victims. But you also need to cut me a little slack. Being with someone new is always a learning curve, and ours is pretty steep, considering what you’ve been through, and the fact that only hours ago our relationship was a professional one. I’m trying to be honest, and being honest, I’m going to admit that I’m a little leery of doing something to hurt you, or frighten you away.”

  Caitlin frowned, and then sighed. “I get it. I don’t really like it, but I get it. And I guess I am a little… off right now, so I do appreciate your consideration. How about this.” The hand which had clenched into a fist beneath his once more spread against his chest. “If I have a problem with anything you do, I’ll tell you. And you treat me like you would any other woman.”

  Jack studied her face as he lifted her hand. “The first stipulation I can agree to.” And pressed a kiss into her palm. “The second one is going to have to be renegotiated, since you’re not just any woman.”

  She hesitated a beat. “You’re good.”

  “Irresistible charm, remember?”

  Jack started to lean in again, but the sound of voices in the hallway stopped him. “Remind me again why I booked you a room connected to your brother’s?”

  “Because there’s safety in numbers?”

  “Not for your brother,” Jack muttered “if I had a choice right now.” But he straightened, putting himself between Caitlin and the door just in case someone else should walk through it. Not that he expected any trouble of that sort, but he also wasn’t ruling it out. Especially after learning about the death of Darius Presley. There seemed to be a storm gathering, with Caitlin at the center.

  Connie and Lance came through the door, the latter’s blurry eyes clearing a bit when he spotted Jack. Then his gaze shifted toward Caitlin. “Wellington,” he said after a moment. “Didn’t expect you to still be here.”

  “There’s safety in numbers,” Jack said, and Caitlin made a choking sound behind him.

  “Why don’t you go to bed,” Connie suggested to her fiancé. “You’re exhausted.”

  After a warning look aimed at Jack, the other man nodded. “I will. Goodnight, Caitlin. Jack.”

  He disappeared through the other door and after it shut, Connie rolled her eyes.

  “He still thinks of me as twelve,” Caitlin said, and Connie nodded.

  “He’s getting better overall, but this whole thing has really set him back. He spent most of dinner berating himself for not paying closer attention to who you were dating.”

  “Which is why I generally don’t tell him who I’m dating. He’d be running background checks. And don’t point out that a background check would have revealed that Ryan was still married, because that’s beside the point.”

  “Can I point out that I already passed the background check?”

  Caitlin shot Jack a retiring look. “Professionally. However, the personal background check will be conducted by me. To put it in your vernacular, you can think of it as discovery.”

  “I’d rather think of it as you show me yours and I’ll show you mine.�
�

  “Since I’d prefer not to think about any of this, let alone be witness to it, I believe I’ll follow Lance in.” After a brief hesitation, Connie came over to give Caitlin a tight fierce hug. “See you in the morning.”

  When the door closed behind Connie, Jack looked at Caitlin. “Despite Connie’s vote of confidence, I don’t expect any more show and tell tonight.” He reached out, pulled her gently to her feet. And framed her face with his hands. “You should go to bed, too.” He brushed a thumb over the dark circle beneath her eye, part bruise, part fatigue. “You’ve had a shitty week.”

  “You could say that. Jack.” She glanced down and then returned her gaze to his. “Thank you. You’ve been like a life preserver. I feel like I would have drowned in fear, in uncertainty, if it weren’t for you.”

  “No you wouldn’t have. You have too much fight in you for that. But I’m glad to know I’ve made you feel more secure.” He leaned forward, found himself kissing the tip of her nose. It was tender, something he normally was not. But normal seemed to have no precedent here. “Get some rest.”

  “When will I see you again?”

  The fact that she asked sent a little zing through him. “Why don’t you call me when you wake up?”

  She nodded. “Okay.”

  “Make sure you engage the security latch,” he said as he started toward the door. “And before you ask: no, I don’t think you’re stupid.”

  “Just defensive?”

  “Only when it comes to domineering men. Of which I happen to be one. Although I’m trying to tone it down.”

  “Jack?” she said when he was almost out the door. “Domineering isn’t always a bad thing. Given the right circumstances, that is.”

  The zing turned into a furnace that went into blast mode behind his zipper. “You know I’m going to be thinking about that the rest of the night, correct?”

  “If not, my delivery needs work.”

  “I thought you said you weren’t good at banter?”

  She lifted a shoulder. “Maybe I underestimated.”

  “You’re just a little bit evil. I’m going to like that about you.”