You've Got Tail

by Renee George

  “Do you feel lucky, punk? Well, do ya?” I said in my best Clint Eastwood impersonation (which really wasn’t good on a good day).

  “By George, I think you’ve got it,” she said, grinning. I guess if I could channel Clint, she could channel Henry Higgins.

  “Loverly,” I replied, hoping we’d both stop before we broke out into song.

  Ruth laughed. “I think you’re smarvelous.”

  “And you…” I’d never been a fan of guns, but I wasn’t a fan of getting my ass kicked all the time either. I put the Ruger 22. pistol, with the safety on, in my purse. “…are swonderfully nuts.”

  “You like the classic musicals?”

  “Yes, very much.”

  “We’ll have to have a marathon one night. I have all the old musicals on DVD.” As an afterthought, she said, “Oh, and it’s semi-automatic. So, if some bastard tries to attack you again, don’t be afraid to shoot him with all ten rounds.

  Impulsively, I hugged Ruth tight. She was quickly becoming a really good friend when I needed one.

  I just hoped the bastard who I was hypothetically emptying the magazine into didn’t turn out to be her oldest son.

  Chapter 18

  Exhausted, I let Connelly drive me the few blocks back home. His front seat was littered with peanut shells, which struck me as funny. Squirrels do eat nuts. Also, he had a mullet. Again funny. Sort of like a bushy tail.

  I thanked him for the lift and headed inside. Ruth made me feel really good about being here, which meant my version of normal was definitely changing. I decided to look over the papers Neville had dropped off. The envelope was upstairs on my small kitchen counter where I’d left it. When I emptied it out on the table, the contents left me gawking.

  The pages were blank. Like someone had just shoved a stack of typing paper in there.

  Sheila. Of course it had to be that bi-otch. She was Neville’s assistant, after all. Well, no way in hell was I letting her get away with this. I stuffed the blank pages back into the envelope.

  I’d march down to the courthouse and give her a piece of my mind. She didn’t scare me. Much. My shadow, Connelly, followed me. He waited out in the patrol car when I went inside. Although, as I approached the mayor’s office, apprehension plagued me, and I wished I’d brought the deputy inside.

  Who was I kidding here with my bravado? Sheila could totally whoop me. I took a couple of deep breaths and steeled myself for the confrontation. Knocking on the door, I felt the twinge of panic rising again. I heard Neville say, “Come in.”

  I held my head up high, threw my shoulders back, faked a confidence I didn’t feel and walked into the lion’s den.

  Huh. No Sheila, but Neville sat behind a big maple desk. The smaller desk in the room was vacant.

  “Sunny, hi.” He did not sound happy to see me.

  “Hi, Neville.”

  He looked up, but didn’t get up. “Can I help you with something?”

  I sighed heavily. “Well, I’d actually come down to talk to Sheila.” The bane of my existence. “Those papers you dropped over the other day were blank, and I think she messed with them to mess with me.”

  “I’m really sorry, Sunny.” His wide smile was back, and he looked relieved for some reason. “That Sheila can be a pisser. But she’s usually very good at her job.”

  “I’m sure,” I said, not hiding the sour note in my tone. I was sure she was good at a lot of things, but I’m not sure the job was one of them. “When will she be back?”

  “I’m not sure.” He tapped one thumbnail against the other, and chewed the inside of his lower lip. “She took the afternoon off for personal reasons, if you catch my drift.”

  I not only caught his drift, I was skiing it like an Olympian. All that was missing from his innuendo had been the nod, nod, hint, hint, wink, wink. I wanted to stick a spike in my ear to un-hear the intimation. He was implying she was off playing hanky-panky hooky with someone, possibly Babel. My Babel. I wasn’t usually inclined to hurt people, but I was glad I left Ruth’s gun back at the apartment or I might have been tempted to shoot someone.

  “I guess I’ll stop by tomorrow. Will she be in then?”

  “She’s off tomorrow, but I’ll let her know you were looking for her.”

  I saw a picture on the wall behind his desk. A beautiful woman, pale-green eyes, and gorgeous auburn hair. The style of her hair dated the picture to the late eighties.

  “Is that your wife?”

  “Yes, she was.”

  The “was” reminding me that she’d died. “I’m sorry, Neville. I shouldn’t have asked.”

  He raised a hand to stop me. “Think nothing of it, darlin’. Life and death. It touches us all in some way or another.” The sadness in his voice caught me by surprise. Gone was the charming slick man, and in his place was the grieving widow. I wondered if the real Neville Lutjen would ever stand up.

  He put his politician face on again and tapped his fingers in a staccato beat on his desk. “I’ll see you tomorrow night at the potluck.”

  I brightened. The small town grapevine was apparently more efficient than AT&T. “You heard about that already, huh?”

  “Ruth is our own little Martha Stewart. I also heard you had another run-in with Brady Corman today. Ruth was a little upset about the way he treated you. Don’t fret too much. He’s become a shell since his wife took off on him, but he’s harmless enough.”

  Was Neville concerned about my feelings? “Rose Ann worked for you, didn’t she?” Hah, he wasn’t the only one getting news from the rumor mill.

  “Yes.” He shook his head and clucked his tongue. “She was a beautiful woman. Good at her job. It’s just too bad about her extracurriculars.”

  He was implying the same thing about Rose Ann that he had about Sheila, but with Sheila I totally bought it. Rose Ann, well, I just wasn’t sure. “Do you really think she took off with a lover?”

  The word “lover” struck a nerve with him, as if he wasn’t used to hearing a woman say it so blatantly. “Yes, I do. You’ve seen Brady. While he hasn’t always been such a mess, I suspected that their marriage wasn’t as perfect as they made out. At least, that’s the feeling I got from Rose Ann.”

  Holy smack-down, Neville was as big a gossip as Ruth, but not nearly so nice about it. Even if she had been running around on Brady, I knew from my visions she hadn’t left him for another man. Suddenly, I felt very discomfited about the whole conversation. “The Johnsons told me that you saw Chavvah a few days before she disappeared. They said she looked really unhappy. What happened?”

  The question seemed to catch Neville off-guard. Good. He placed his palms flat on his desk and leaned forward. “I can’t remember. Something about the permits, I’m sure.”

  He was lying. I could tell it in his voice. Which meant it had to be a real doozy of a lie. After all, politicians lied for a living. I didn’t press for the truth. He wouldn’t tell me anyhow, and I didn’t want to make an enemy of the town’s mayor. At least the question had gotten me a little payback for suggesting Sheila and Babel were out doing the hot monkey. “Well, I’d better get going,” I said. “Thanks for trying to help with the paperwork.”

  “You’re welcome. Think nothing of it.” He didn’t offer to walk me out, but did say in parting, “I’ll see you tomorrow night.”

  “Looking forward to it.”

  I left the courthouse with a healthy sense of doubt. Had I been so wrong about Rose Ann? Not about her demise, but about the kind of wife and mother she’d been?

  It shouldn’t matter, I told myself. There was nothing she could have done in a lifetime of lifetimes to warrant such a horrifying death. And I couldn’t shake the feeling that I knew something more and just hadn’t put my finger on it.

  Chapter 19

  I roused from sleep in the middle of the night with a chilling shiver. A daunting awareness crept over me as a light brushing noise sounded across the room. I’d always been afra
id of rats, but now I had bigger beasts to be concerned about.

  Maybe it was Judah? Even though he was a ghost, I’d heard him bark, whimper, and whine.

  Shwish shhhh.

  I heard the sound again, and it wasn’t no ghost! Too late, I realized I was not alone. But how did someone get in? I’d double checked that I’d locked the door. I’d even had Elbert Smith come over in the late afternoon and put a slide bolt on the back door.

  Deputy Farraday had taken over for Connelly when it was time for the young man to go off shift, part of the sheriff’s whole twenty-four hour supervision plan. So, where were the freaking cops when I needed them? I resisted the urge to scream. Slowing my breathing to barely audible, I slid my hand beneath my pillow where I’d hidden the gun Ruth gave me. I felt the cold steel of the Ruger against my fingertips. Did I really want to shoot someone? I’d never believed violence was the answer, but after getting knocked around a few times, I was beginning to think I needed to fight brutality with brutality.

  The grip of the gun weighed heavy in my palm. I slipped my finger onto the trigger. My attacker would be a therianthrope. He or she would be faster and stronger than me. I hoped I could pull the gun out and get a shot off before the creature could get to me.

  A rattling noise convinced me I had to try. I pulled the weapon out in a not so smooth motion. It tangled on the pillow case, but I managed to toss the pillow to the floor and raise the gun. I squeezed the trigger.

  Nothing happened.

  I tried to squeeze again, but it was like the damn trigger was stuck. Shit! The large shadow of the intruder moved against the wall. I tried to shoot it again. But still, the trigger wouldn’t move. Fear gripped at my throat, choking my breath while my heart pounded in my ears, my hands shaking so bad I could barely keep hold of the useless fucking weapon.

  The light came on. I screamed and smacked the gun against my hand to unjam whatever was jammed. When that didn’t work, I threw it toward my would-be attacker. He ducked as the gun bounced harmlessly off the wall.

  “Sunny!”

  I’d been afraid to really look until I’d heard my name. “Babel?” Jeezus H. Christ and all twelve of his disciples. “I could have shot you!” I panted trying to control the anxiety attack moving into full-blown hyperventilation. “What the hell are you doing here? You scared the shit out me!” Which I was hoping wasn’t true, but I would have to check myself later.

  He’d already moved closer to me and the bed, his eyes on the gun. “Those things work better when the safety’s off.”

  Well, duh. My cheeks were hot with embarrassment. So much for my first time at playing Rambo. “How did you get in?” He’d obviously forgotten the whole “screw you” and “get out” moment we’d had this morning.

  “I have keys, remember? Besides, Eldin said it was okay.”

  “Oh. Well.” I huffed. “If Eldin says it’s okay, then it must be okay!” If Deputy Connelly thought Sheriff Taylor was scary, just wait until Farraday got a foot up his ass from me. I wore high heels and I would make sure those bitches hurt. That man would be lucky if he’d be able to sit by the time I was finished. He’d have to stand just to take a crap after I was done.

  I held out my hand. “Keys. Now.”

  Babel sighed. “I made a promise to watch over you, Sunny. That’s all I’m trying to do. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

  Yes, I’d been scared, but one thought prevailed in my head, what if I’d shot him? What if I’d been responsible for hurting or even killing Babel?

  “Stupid, stupid man.” I was shaking all over now. I think I’d had a big enough shot of adrenaline to burn all the calories I’d eaten earlier. Fear was not a diet plan, I reminded myself.

  “Can I stay?” he asked.

  “You can’t. We can’t.” It wasn’t even the anger talking at this point. It was defeat. Sheila was a cow, but I wouldn’t be in a tag-team relationship with her and Babel.

  Babel’s gaze snapped to mine. He looked stricken. “Why? I don’t understand why you keep pushing me away?”

  There were a couple of ways I could go with this question. He was too young. Too my-best-friend’s-brother. Too man-beast. I decided to go with the most honest response. The real reason I couldn’t give in to my attraction to him. “I can’t be the other woman.” Why, oh why did I want him to hold me? Because I felt vulnerable and scared and sad. This too would pass. We would both move on with our lives, but I didn’t think time or distance would ever be able to heal my heart.

  “You can’t be the what?” His shoulders rounded as he leaned forward. “What in the world are you talking about?”

  He was close enough to touch now. All I needed to do was reach out. I hated that my entire being wanted his entire being. I scooted up the bed to put more inches between us. “You know. I’ve been cheated on. I can’t do that to someone else, even if that someone is the spawn of evil.”

  Babel looked even more confused, if possible. “Are you talking about Sheila?” Okay, so maybe he wasn’t so confused. Just clueless.

  “No. I’m talking about Demi Moore.” Gah! I threw up my hands. “Yes, I’m talking about Sheila. You know, your girlfriend!”

  “She is not my girlfriend.” His denial was like a knife twisting in my gut.

  “Your lover, then. Fuck!”

  He sat down on the bed and shifted his position until he was right up next to me. “She is not my lover.” He lowered his voice, making it soft and gentle. Sexy.

  “I think you already know that my visions are real, asshole. I know what I saw, and I saw things that make my brain bleed every time I think about it.”

  “She’s not my lover,” he repeated. His blue eyes drank me in. I felt myself growing weak and powerless. I took a deep breath through my nose and my stomach jittered. He smelled so good, all earthy and musk.

  I would be strong. “Don’t lie to me. What about yesterday? You totally threw me over for her, even after she attacked me.”

  “Sunny, I took her away from you, so she wouldn’t hurt you. Sheila is insane. And yes, regretfully, I did sleep with her, but only the one time, and I was pretty drunk. She was Judah’s girlfriend. They’d been dating for a couple months before he disappeared. She’s kind of fixated on me, but only because she was in love with him, or at least she thinks she was.

  He only slept with her the one time? “So, when you were comforting her…”

  “I felt bad. I was having a hard time as you well know.”

  Oh, I remembered just how hard he’d been.

  “When she showed up all bat-shit and stuff, I was afraid she’d really hurt you if I didn’t get her away.”

  “Really?” I sniffed. “You were protecting me?”

  “Jesus, woman. You’re frustrating.”

  Tell me about it. He was grinning now and looking so damned sexy I wanted to pounce on him. But I’d been suffering for days, and it was all his fault. Okay, maybe a little bit my fault, but I decided to let myself off the hook and blame him for the most part.

  “Damned sexy, huh?” He wiggled his eyebrows and smirked.

  Crap. Had I said that out loud?

  Babel drew his large hand across his tightly tee-shirted chest. The corner of his mouth crooked up on the right and he said, “You move me, Sunshine Haddock. I’m sorry if I ever gave you the impression that I might feel any other way.”

  Okay, I’d seen this tactic before. I liked to call it the “man-pology.” And when he leaned over and stroked my arm with his fingers whisper-soft against my skin, I considered complete forgiveness. I couldn’t let him off that easy though. “A body built for sin does not give you an all-access backstage pass to the Sunny Show. Sorry. Ticketmaster is closed. And the main event is all sold out.”

  “Come on, darlin’,” he said softly.

  Damn it! He knew he had me.

  “You don’t want to stay mad at me, do you? That’s not fun for either of us.”

  “You know wha
t?” I patted his shoulder. “I do want to stay mad at you. I don’t need fun right now. And I want to go back to bed and sleep. So, get.” I shooed him.

  “I’m staying.”

  My skin went all goosey bumps and shivers. “You’re going.”

  “You’re not safe.” His eyes were soft at the corners, and his mouth was begging to be kissed.

  “Farraday is watching the place.”

  “Farraday couldn’t rescue his ass from the toilet.”

  I chuckled. “Could so.” At least I hoped he could.

  “Could not.”

  We were quickly disintegrating into schoolyard tactics, soon it would devolve to “did so, did not, did so, un-uh, uh-huh.”

  He kissed me gently.

  “Hey,” I said against the press of his lips.

  “Woman, you talk too much.” He kissed me again, his tongue slipping across my lips as I opened for him. I didn’t usually like to agree with a man when he was being insulting, but in this case, I thought Babel was definitely right. The passion of our kiss grew intense. I didn’t even mind the ache in my jaw. It was secondary to his hands roaming around my body.

  He pulled me closer until I was on his lap, my chest plastered against his. Our kiss was filled with passion. He moaned against my mouth, making everything south wet and hot and needful. I wanted this man and I loved everything about him, even beyond the sharp angles of his gorgeously rugged face, beautiful blue eyes, a body any MMA fighter would be proud to have, and an ass you could bounce quarters from. He was sweet and gifted—he moved down my neck with his kisses and nips and licks—sooo gifted.

  “Wow,” I said, my brain too electrified for anything more intelligent. His slipped his hand between my thighs and I moaned my pleasure.

  “Damn, Sunny,” he panted, lust shining hotly from his eyes. “You’re so goddamned beautiful. So sexy. I want you. I want only you.”

  Hot damn! My body yearned for him, and I maneuvered to make it easy for him when he tugged my nightgown up over my head and took my naked breasts into his mouth, first one then the other. I squirmed under his talented ministrations.